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“We’re not getting out of here alive,” Gran complained. “This is the end. I can feel it in my bones. My not-so-old bones. They’ll carry us out of here in a coffin.”

“Oh, stop it, you silly woman,” said Scarlett. “It’s going to be fun!”

“Fun! You call this fun?”

“Just think of it as a holiday in a luxury retreat,” said Scarlett, as so often the epitome of optimism. “All expenses paid. And who knows? Maybe we’ll meet some great people and become friends. We might even get lucky,” she added with a wink.

“Never!” said Gran. “I’m gonna steer clear of the inmates as much as I can.” She leaned in and dropped her voice to a whisper. “You never know if they won’t shank us!”

“What’s shank mean, Max?” asked Dooley, who was quietly trembling now.

“It’s a prison term,” said Brutus. “It’s a self-made knife prisoners use to settle scores.”

“We’re all going to die!” Dooley cried.

Okay, so maybe not exactly the most auspicious of beginnings, but look at the bright side: things could only get better. Right?

The room Sara Brooks had managed to arrange for us was a spacious one. It didn’t have a pet flap, but it did have a window, and unlike the picture my treacherous mind had conjured up, the window didn’t have bars. It could even open, and we could slip in and out as much as we liked. Though Gran implored us not to. We needed to watch out for shanks!

The man who carried our luggage from the taxi—Odelia had bowed out of driving us over here just in case someone recognized her—was a nursing assistant named Desmond Palka. I would like to say he was a nice man, but unfortunately he wasn’t. He looked like the Incredible Hulk, only instead of green he was pink, and instead of a nice full head of hair he proudly boasted a shiny bald dome.

He was also not very friendly, and seemed to communicate mostly in grunts.

“What’s this?” he asked when he was handed a bulky litter box.

“For the cats,” Gran explained. “We’ve got four of them.”

“Can’t they do their business outside like normal cats?”

Clearly the guy was not a cat person!

He swore under his breath when he took hold of Gran’s suitcase, and he even swore out loud when it was time to tackle Scarlett’s three suitcases. “What’s in here?” he asked. “Bricks?”

“Just some of my clothes,” said Scarlett sweetly. “Mind that you don’t drop that one,” she added, pointing to a particularly bulky specimen. “Those are my shoes.”

“Who are you?” asked Desmond, sweating at this point. “Imelda Marcos?”

“I happen to think it’s important that a girl takes care of herself,” said Scarlett.

The man’s eyes dipped down Scarlett’s vertiginous cleavage for a moment, and he went all googly-eyed and started to sway. Scarlett often has that effect on men. Before he toppled over like some felled mighty tree, he managed to drag his eyes away from Scarlett’s frontage long enough to lug that lady’s luggage into our new home.

“Good thing Gran didn’t bring those bags of kibble and litter she planned to take along with her,” said Dooley. “Or else that man would have popped a vessel.”

“Indeed he would have,” I said. This meant, of course, that we didn’t have kibble or litter, two essential ingredients in a cat’s life. Chase had promised he’d drop by later with a couple of bags, and some other stuff Gran said she couldn’t do without, like clean sheets—even though management had assured Marge she didn’t have to bring beddings—and some snacks—even though the cooking was supposed to be top-notch.

The room we had been assigned came furnished, and even though Gran caviled about the furnishings, and then caviled some more about the room being too hot for her taste, all in all it looked less austere than we had expected. Then again, at this point anything that looked a step up from Alcatraz was great.

And so while the humans checked cupboards and selected their beds—Gran and Scarlett were supposed to be two sisters named Janelle and Janette Corr—and Desmond finally finished the heavy lifting and let us settle in, a young man with a pleasant face popped his head in.

“Hi, there,” he said. “Anything I can help you guys with?”

“How do you switch this thing off?” asked Gran as she pointed to the radiator. “It’s like a sauna in here.”

“Our residents do like things toasty,” said the young man as he showed Gran how to work the thermostat. “My name is Isaac, by the way, and if there’s anything you need, just give me a holler. Or better yet, press that button over there.” He pointed to a button on the wall. “There’s also one in the bathroom, and one next to the beds.”

“Is this like room service?” asked Scarlett as she studied the button.

Isaac laughed.“Not exactly. It’s a panic button. In case a resident is in trouble they can push that button and a nurse will try to ascertain what’s going on, and in case of a medical emergency or some other problem, someone will be here within seconds.”

“Now isn’t that great?” said Gran, nodding approvingly. “I’ve always wanted one of these at home, but my son-in-law was dead set against it. Said he didn’t need the aggravation.”

“So where are you folks from?”

This is where Gran got a little cagey, and Scarlett directed her eyes to the ceiling, trying to remember the story she and Gran had rehearsed.“We’re two sisters from Iowa,” she said finally. “Where we’ve lived all of our lives. Um…”

“But we always said we wanted to retire near the ocean,” Gran jumped in. “And so here we are!”

“We organize regular excursions to the beach, and other places of interest,” said Isaac. “Just check the bulletin board in the cafeteria and sign up whenever you want. A lot of our residents love the excursions. “

“I bet they do,” said Scarlett as she eyed the young man with distinct interest. She placed a hand on his arm. “Say, are all the men in here as handsome as you, Isaac?”

Isaac’s face flushed, and he said in a husky voice, “I wouldn’t know about that, Mrs. Corr.”

“Miss Corr,” said Scarlett, a distinct purr in her voice now. “I never married. Never found a man who suited my needs. Are you married, Isaac?”

“Let’s leave Isaac be, sister,” said Gran, feeling that enough was enough. “We have a lot of unpacking to do.”

“We have?”

“Yes, we have,” said Gran, her tone brooking no contest.

“Well, too bad,” said Scarlett, reluctantly relinquishing her grip on the young male nursing assistant.

“Before you go,” said Gran. “By any chance do you know a man named Henry Kaur?”

“Oh, sure. He’s right across the corridor,” said Isaac, who seemed quietly relieved to be rid of Scarlett. “Why? Do you know Henry?”

“Not personally,” said Gran. “I guess you could say we have a mutual friend.” I could tell that Isaac’s expression had become a little clouded at the mention of Henry’s name, and Gran must have noticed the same thing, for she now asked, “Not a big fan of the guy, are you, Isaac?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” said Isaac, suddenly turning cautious. “I respect all residents,” he said diplomatically.

“So what about your boss?” asked Gran. “Brian whatshisface?”

“Brian Brooks,” said Isaac.

“What about him? Is he okay to work for?”

“He’s great,” said Isaac. “Just very busy all the time, you know.”

“That’s a good thing, though, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just that…” He hesitated, clearly ill at ease to discuss his boss with these new residents.

“Lousy pay, is that it?” Gran prompted. “Forces you to work all hours of the day and night and pays you chicken feed?”

“No, the pay is fine, and the hours, too. But Brian used to be around a lot more. He used to take a tour of the rooms every day, greet the residents, organize meetings.”

“And he doesn’t do that anymore?”

“Lately he seems preoccupied for some reason. Spends a lot of time in his office with the door closed, and lets his personal assistant handle things.” He shrugged. “I can understand that running a place this size takes a lot of work, but his door used to be open all the time, and we could always walk in whenever we had something that was troubling us, or when we wanted to talk. He even encouraged that.”

“And now he doesn’t.”

“Now he doesn’t. But like I said, I can’t complain. He’s a good boss. Just busy.”

“Busy with his girlfriend, I’ll bet,” said Harriet.

Gran must have heard her, for she grinned.“What I heard, and correct me if I’m wrong,” she said, “is that Brian is having an affair with this personal assistant you just mentioned. Which could be the reason he spends so much time in his office.” She gave Isaac a meaningful look, and the young man’s face became thoroughly flushed again.

“I’ve also heard the same rumors,” he confessed. “But honestly I think there’s simply no truth in them. Brian is a happily married man, and he’s also an honorable man, so I’m sure he would never do such a thing.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” said Gran. “So where did you say we can find this Henry fella?”

“Right across the corridor,” said Isaac, pointing in that direction. “You can’t miss him. And usually he leaves his door open, so you can always go in and introduce yourselves.” He eyed Scarlett for a moment. “He seems to like… female company.”

And that said, he excused himself and left.

“I have the impression that Isaac isn’t too happy about the attention Henry is giving Kirsten,” said Gran keenly.

“He’s such a sweet boy,” said Scarlett, then sighed. “Though he’s probably a little young for me.”

“Now will you look at that,” said Gran.

And as we all watched on, a young woman walked into Henry’s room. Isaac, who just stood there as if nailed to the spot, had seen the same thing. His face was working, and he had balled his hands into fists. He did not look happy.

Gran immediately seized the moment.“Who’s the young woman who walked into Henry’s room just now?” she asked.

“That’s my colleague Kirsten Williams,” said Isaac, his eyes never leaving the door to Henry’s room, which had been closed shut by its resident.

“I thought you said Henry never closes his door?”

“Except when Kirsten is in there,” said Isaac unhappily.

“I guess they like their privacy, huh?” said Gran, closely studying the young nurse’s face.

But he didn’t respond. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away. Judging from the tense way he walked, he was a very unhappy young nursing assistant.

6

The moment Isaac was gone, Gran gave us a sign, and Dooley and I quickly snuck across the corridor. Gran gave the door handle a gentle nudge, and we crept into the room, hoping our special set of feline skills hadn’t deserted us, and we would be able to spy on our target unseen and unheard.

Henry’s room was similarly furnished as Gran and Scarlett’s new lodgings, with heavy antique furniture and plenty of old prints on the walls. To offset the rather gloomy interior, he also had lots of plants that gave the room some much-needed air.

“And how are we feeling today, Mr. Kaur?” Kirsten was asking.

Henry was in a barcalounger in front of his television watching an episode of a daytime soap.

“Oh, I love this one,” said Dooley. “See that doctor? He has a big secret.”

“So what is it?” I asked, intrigued in spite of myself.

“I don’t know,” said Dooley with a shrug. “I guess that’s why it’s a secret.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Henry?” said the old man.

“Fine,” said Kirsten, who was a sparkly and energetic young woman with lovely features and nice blond hair in a ponytail. “So how are you feeling today, Henry?”

“Now that you are here? Fine,” said the old charmer with a toothy grin.

“Now, now, what did we say about comments like that?”

“That they’re perfectly harmless and a sign of my appreciation for all that you do?”

Kirsten decided not to press the matter, but instead went into the bathroom and started rummaging around in there.

“Kirsten?” said the old man as he lowered the sound of the television. “Can you come in here a moment?”

“What is it?” said Kirsten.

“You didn’t tell anyone about our little secret, did you?”

“Now Henry, not again.”

“No, but I mean it. You can’t tell anyone about what I told you yesterday.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know that I haven’t.”

“Good. Cause if people knew…” He lowered his voice, even though no one was present except me and Dooley. “The thing is, Kirsten, that I did some bad things in the past. Some things that would shock a sweet-natured girl like you. And the only reason I’m telling you this is because I know Ican trust you.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Kirsten decidedly. “I don’t believe you have a bad bone in your body, Henry.”

“Well, you better believe it,” said Henry. “Oh, this was all a long time ago now, of course. I was young and stupid, as they say, and thought I was going to teach them all a lesson. Well, the only thing I did was put myself into an impossible situation, and hurt a lot of people in the process.”

“That’s all fine, Henry,” said Kirsten, clearly not believing a word the man was saying. “Now if you don’t need me anymore…”

“Wait,” said Henry, suddenly sounding urgent. He had reached out a hand and grasped Kirsten’s arm. When she frowned, he immediately let go. “You didn’t ask me what I did.”

“That’s because I don’t think you did anything bad, Henry,” said Kirsten kindly as she patted his shoulder.

He shrugged.“The reason I did what I did was because I wanted to be rich, you see. Like a lot of people I thought having money was going to solve all of my problems. It was going to make me happy. But what I discovered was that it didn’t. On the contrary, it made me deeply unhappy, since now I couldn’t see the people I loved anymore. My family, my friends…” He got a faraway look in his eyes as he gazed out the window for a moment. He wasn’t looking at the trees that had been planted in the garden, though. He was looking at a long-ago past, that only he could see. But then he snapped out of itagain. “The thing is, I did get rich, even though the way I did it wasn’t exactly kosher. And one day I’m going to make you rich, too.”

“Of course, Henry,” she said with a light laugh. “Now you won’t forget to take your medication this time, will you? You know how cranky you get when you forget.”

“Just you wait and see,” said Henry, wagging a crooked, bony finger in Kirsten’s face. “I’m going to make up for what I did. And when I do, you’ll be amazed.”

“That’s fine,” said Kirsten, and then quickly walked out. Unfortunately for us, she closed the door as she did, which meant we were now trapped in there with this strange old man!

“Do you really think he’s rich, Max?” asked Dooley, who hadn’t noticed yet that we couldn’t get out.

“I don’t know,” I said, glancing to the window but seeing that it was tightly shut. And even though the heating was on full blast, the man was still dressed in a thick sweater. I was starting to get too hot, and wondering why this room felt like the inside of an oven and the man didn’t seemto notice!

“It’s possible he’s rich, of course,” said Dooley. “But it all sounds a little suspicious to me. If he’s so rich, why is he staying at Happy Home? Rich people, even when they’re old, live in their own homes, surrounded by a hundred-strong staff who cater to their every need. I saw that in a documentary last week. It was about this media mogul who’s ninety-something, but he’s still running his company, and jetting across the globe, and only recently got married for the fifth time or something. He doesn’t have time to spend at a retirement home in Hampton Cove. He’s busy busy busy.”

“Maybe Henry is a rich man who likes the peace and comfort of a retirement home?” I suggested. “Not all rich people like to keep busy until their dying day.”

“Mh,” said Dooley. “It still sounds pretty fishy to me. And then the way he was acting with Kirsten just now. All very suspicious, if you ask me.”

I agreed with him wholeheartedly. All this talk about being rich, and going to make her rich, too.“Looks like Kirsten’s mom was right to worry about her daughter,” I said. “This Henry is clearly working up to something. And if Kirsten doesn’t watch out, he’s going to jump her in the bathroom one of these days.”

“He doesn’t look as if he’s capable to jump anyone in any bathroom, though,” said Dooley as he studied the lonely figure slumped in his brown leather barcalounger.

“Looks can be deceiving,” I told my friend. “He might look old and weak now, but I’ll bet that once he gets going, he’s a lot stronger and more agile than you think.”

“It’s all part of the ruse, you think? Of the trap he’s setting?”

“Yeah, to lull Kirsten into a false sense of security. And then suddenly, when she least expects it, he’s going to pounce.”

“Like a cat catching a mouse.”

Just then, Henry turned a pair of lizard eyes on us, and his face crumpled into an expression of anger.“What are you doing here? Who let you in? Get out of my room! Get out!”

We wanted to get out, we sure did, but the door was locked. Lucky for us suddenly it opened, and Gran’s face appeared.

“Oh, there you are!” she said. And then turning to Henry, “I’ve been looking for those two everywhere. They must have snuck out when I wasn’t looking.”

“Who are you?” Henry demanded coolly.

“Vest—I mean Janelle Corr,” said Gran, and approached the man with outstretched hand. “I’m new. And this is my sister Scarl—Janette,” she added when Scarlett poked her head in.

“Coo-coo,” said Scarlett cheerfully.

But Henry would need a lot more than‘coo-coo’ to wipe that angry look off his face.

“Take your cats and go,” he advised. “I don’t want them in here, you understand.”

“You don’t like cats?” asked Gran.

“No, I don’t. So get out. And close the door,” he added when Gran and Scarlett made to leave.

We wasted no time tripping after Gran, putting as much distance between us and this nasty old man as possible.

“He’s not very nice, Gran,” said Dooley. “But he’s very rich. Or at least that’s what he told Kirsten.”

And as we informed Gran about the conversation we’d just overheard, a thoughtful frown appeared on her brow. “Looks like we got here just in time.”

7

Practically the moment Kirsten had left Henry’s room, she had already forgotten about the things the man said, more or less dismissing them as the ramblings of an old man who doesn’t know what he’s saying. And besides, she had other, more pressing matters to think of. And just as she walked down the corridor on her way to the kitchen, she almost bumped into this pressing matter, in the form of Desmond Palka.

As usual, her stomach tightened when she caught sight of the man’s grin. His bald head was glittering as it caught the light of the sun slanting in through the skylight, and it might have been her imagination, but his sharp teeth seemed to glitter as well.

“Kirsten!” he said. “Just the person I was looking for.”

“Not now, Desmond,” she said curtly, and kept on walking, hoping to discourage him from following her. But of course that’s exactly what he did, much to her annoyance.

“Is it true what I heard?” he said. “Has old Henry been harassing you again?”

“Henry has not been harassing me,” she said. “And I don’t know who told you, but whatever they said, it’s all lies.”

“So it’s also not true that he likes to expose himself to you? Open his dressing gown and show you—”

She turned on him.“What do you want, Desmond?”

“You know what I want, sweet cheeks,” said the burly nurse with a lascivious expression on his face. His hand stole out but she deftly avoided it, turning away from this pest.

“You can’t keep running away from me, you know!” he called out after her.

“Oh, yes, I can,” she murmured under her breath.

From the moment she’d arrived at Happy Home the thickset obnoxious nursing aide had been hounding her, trying to get her alone, and basically forcing himself on her at every possible opportunity. He seemed to think he was a prince amongst men, and a great catch, and had asked her out incessantly and with increasinginsistence. And when that didn’t work, and she turned him down every time, he kept badgering her.

She had hoped that in time he would see the pointlessness of his actions, and that he would stop, but it had been months, and he still wasn’t giving up. If anything he’d become more brazen, and she had now resorted to making sure never to be alone with him for fear of what he might do to her.

She had thought of telling Brian, but would he believe her? Desmond had been there for years, and she only started six months ago, at the same time as Isaac, in fact. So what if she told Brian, and he sided with Desmond, and told her to quit?

But apart from Desmond, she loved her job. She loved the people, and landing this job in one of the most prestigious retirement homes in Hampton Cove had been a real coup for her, and a dream come true. Should she let one sex pest ruin things for her?

So she had decided simply to ride it out, figuring that at some point even a man as thick as Desmond would get the point and back off. And if that didn’t help, maybe she could pretend to have a boyfriend. For that seemed to be one of the reasons he kept hounding her, figuring that since she was single, she must be interested in him.

The best thing would be to get an actual boyfriend, of course, and preferably one who could put Desmond in his place. But so far no such luck.

Oh, she’d enjoyed her share of flings in the past, but never anything serious. And now that she was working long hours, she simply didn’t have the time to go out and socialize. The only men she now met were either colleagues or residents, and both were off limits. Residents for obvious reasons—that part was even in the contract she signed when she started there. And colleagues was a rule she had instigated herself, figuring it would make things too complicated if she got involved with anyone.

And besides, there simply wasn’t anyone she was particularly interested in.

She hurried into the kitchen, knowing it was almost time for lunch, and she wanted to lend a hand to the kitchen staff, who were understaffed today.

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Henry wondered if he hadn’t said too much this time. He wanted to tell Kirsten everything, of course, but knew that he couldn’t. The girl would be too shocked if she found out what it was he really wanted from her. And he couldn’t have that. No, better to ease her into it. Gain her trust. And once she trusted him, hemight take things one step further. But not now. Not yet. Not when she was still so innocent and naive. All he had to do was to be patient. It had taken him this long to get her to confide in him. To tell him what it was that was bothering her. He couldn’t go and spoil everything by simply blurting out his big secret—his big reveal.

The most important thing was that he had found her. His heart had rejoiced when he had, and when she had started showing up in his room every day, and accepting the small attentions he liked to bestow upon her.

The watch had been too much, probably, but he simply couldn’t help it. He had to make her see how much he cared. How much he loved her and wanted to be near her. All his life, all these years, and now when he was so close he wasn’t going to spoil everything by rushing into things.

No, he was going to play it cool—take it easy. And then when she was ready, he was going to lay it all out for her. Tell her the truth, and hope she wouldn’t run away screaming.

8

It had been a while since Harriet had been tasked with the important missions the Poole family seemed to have specialized in of late. Mostly they seemed to pick Max as their go-to feline to solve their most complicated puzzles and work out what was going on. Now, though, since they were actually on a double mission, and Max was only one cat and couldn’t clone himself, even if Odelia would have wanted to, they had recruited Harriet and Brutus to take on part of the burden.

Theirs was the task to ascertain whether Brian Brooks, the general manager of the retirement home where they were currently ensconced, was in fact being unfaithful to his spouse of long years Sara Brooks.

“And with his personal assistant, no less,” said Brutus as they traversed the halls of the home in search of Brian’s office, where presumably these acts of adultery had been taking place.

“It’s very common for humans to cheat on their wives with their secretaries,” said Harriet. “You might even call it a time-honored tradition.”

“It seems a little strange,” said Brutus. “I mean, aren’t they supposed to be working for the good of the home? And instead they’re playing hooky and conducting nookie in his office.”

“It could also be her office,” Harriet said, not wanting to limit the scope of their investigation before it got started. “Both offices will do for the purpose of cheating on the man’s wife.” She could have added that it might also be a broom cupboard, a conference room or even the empty room of one of the residents. Men like Brian Brooks were presumably creative when it came to indulging in the sins of the flesh.

Gran had shown them the way, and now stood watch as the cats slipped into the office.

“Good luck!” the lady loud-whispered.

“Thanks!” Harriet whispered back. “I think we’re going to need it!”

And that’s how their mission began. It seemed like an ignoble mission to her, but then Gran had explained that no missions were better than others. And even though it appeared to her that Max had gotten the easiest task: trying to figure out whether this Henry Kaur guy was actually a menace to Kirsten Williams or not—according to Gran the large blorange cat’s mission was in no way either superior or easier than theirs.

“I still think they should have asked us to keep an eye on the sleazeball,” she grumbled as they carefully ventured into the outer office of Happy Home’s mogul.

“So we’re tackling the young sleazeball and Max is tackling the old one,” said Brutus. “Big difference.”

“No, but there is a big difference,” said Harriet. “The difference being that in Mr. Kaur’s case the life of a young woman is in peril, while in the young sleazeball’s case no life is actually hanging in the balance, only a potentially tricky divorce.” She had to admit that Odelia had apoint when she told them she wouldn’t have accepted this divorce case if it hadn’t offered her a way to insert Gran into Happy Home. Divorce cases could get nasty, and Odelia had a feeling this one would be no exception.

“Okay, so let’s see what this Brian is up to,” she said now as they traipsed through the office where presumably Miss Dee Phillips had made her home away from home.

There was no Dee Phillips in evidence, though, and judging from the cries and moans coming from the inner office, the PA was currently busy entertaining her boss.

“I think we’ve hit the bull’s eye,” said Brutus, gesturing to the door where a sign indicated that behind it Brian Brooks, General Manager, resided.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she said, her face displaying a look of utter distaste. “And in the middle of the day, no less.”

“Of course in the middle of the day,” said Brutus. “He can’t do it at night, cause he’s supposed to be home with his wife at night, and she probably wouldn’t take kindly to the presence of a third person in the marital bed.”

“No, I guess not,” she admitted. “So how are we going to work this thing?” she asked, not having first decided upon a strategy before they got to work.

“First we need to identify this couple,” said Brutus. “Make sure they are who we think they are, and they’re doing what we think they’re doing. Then we tell Gran, and then it’s up to her to decide how to proceed.”

“Sounds like a sound strategy,” she said, and eyed that door closely. It’s one of the perennial annoyances in a cat’s life that humans have a tendency to close their doors. And since cats are not in the capacity to open them without the assistance of a human, it tends to cause a lot of frustration.

“We need to get on the other side of that door,” she said now, stating the obvious, “but we can’t be seen by the occupants of that office.”

“Easy peasy,” said Brutus. “All we need to do is go around the back, and take a peek through the window.” He was gesturing to a window that was open a smidgen to let some much-needed oxygen into the room.

Harriet smiled at her mate.“You’re an ace, snickerdoodle.”

“Gee thanks, snowflake,” said Brutus, looking much pleased.

It had been a while since they’d gone on a serious mission like this, and admittedly they were both a little rusty. Not like Max, who solved about a hundred crimes a week, with Dooley as his perennial loyal sidekick.

And so they jumped up onto the windowsill, careful not to dislodge the two small cacti Miss Phillips had placed there, or the card that read‘Happy Birthday, Dee!’ and was positioned strategically in front of the window. But cats have an innate ability to move about with extreme stealth, sidestepping objects that other species might bump into, not disturbing even a single mote of dust that had settled upon the windowsill.

They reached the opening, gently bumped it open with their heads, and hopped down onto the gravel path that lined the back of the building. Hopping up onto the next windowsill was but the work of a moment, and they soon found that the scene that met their eyes didn’t disappoint. It hurt their eyes, for sure, but it proved beyond a reasonable doubt that Sara Brooks’s fears were justified: her husband was having an affair with his secretary. At least if the woman who was currently straddling the man in that office was indeed his secretary—and if that manwas indeed Brian Brooks.

“He could be some other guy,” said Brutus now, as they watched, transfixed, as the couple enacted some very enthusiastic and acrobatic scenes from the Kama Sutra.

“It’s possible,” Harriet admitted. Though they could only see the back of the man’s head, he did look like she had always imagined a retirement home general manager to look like: powerful and in control. Though at the moment the only control he was exerting was making sure that he didn’t fall from his chair.

At that moment the chair swiveled, as swivel chairs are prone to do, and his face came into view.

He had a pronounced nose, and his hair was thinning a little on top, and graying on the sides, but all in all he looked exactly like the picture Gran had shown them.

“It’s Brian Brooks all right,” Harriet said, with no small measure of satisfaction.

“And the woman?” asked Brutus.

They got an equally good look at Brian’s partner, and if they discounted the expression of intense rapture and satisfaction on that face, she did share a strong resemblance to the picture of Dee Phillips Gran had shown them on her phone.

“Yep. That’s her,” said Harriet.

“Gotcha,” said Brutus, mimicking her sentiments exactly.

“I wonder what she sees in him,” said Harriet. “He’s not that handsome, is he?”

“No, he certainly is not. Though beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so maybe Dee Phillips thinks he’s the most handsome man on the planet, and that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Harriet.

They watched for a few moments more, fascinated by the strange sight, then decided to skedaddle.

“Wait, something is happening,” said Brutus.

And indeed something was happening. Brian’s phone must have alerted him of an urgent meeting, for suddenly the couple uncoupled, and started adjusting their costume with some haste. Dee buttoned up her white blouse, and Mr. Brooks made sure he looked decent and that no extraneous bits of his anatomy were left dangling.

Moments later Dee left the office, and only a couple of seconds later a second female entered, this one considerably older, but definitely younger than Gran.

“Now who is this?” asked Harriet.

“Probably one of the residents,” said Brutus.

“No, she’s too young to be a resident.” She was probably in her early fifties, and was dressed in one of those power suits your professional go-getter seems to favor. She was wearing glasses and looked the epitome of a successful businesswoman.

“Maybe a business partner?” Brutus suggested.

“Or a relative of one of the residents,” said Harriet, “coming to discuss the wellbeing of her mom or dad.”

But instead of taking a seat in front of Brian’s desk, as is the custom on these occasions, instead the woman moved behind the man’s desk, took a seat upon it, and suddenly there was kissing going on and…

“Oh, my golly,” said Harriet, a little shocked.

“The man’s got stamina, you got to give him that,” said Brutus after they had watched, mouths agape, at the spectacle that was unfolding inside the office.

“Two women in the space of half an hour—the man is a serial philanderer!”

“He doesn’t look the part,” said Brutus.

“And what does a serial philanderer look like?” asked Harriet, genuinely curious.

“Big and strong and handsome. You know, like a dark, handsome stranger.”

“These are no strangers,” said Harriet, then closed her eyes. “Frankly I think I’ve seen all I need to see, teddy bear. Let’s go.”

“Yeah, there’s only so much one can take of this stuff.”

After all, they were cats, and as such not unaccustomed to the baser instincts of any biological species prone to the dance of reproduction, but there are limits to what one can process on an empty stomach, and that limit had definitely been reached.

So they hopped down from the windowsill, and proceeded to head into the office of Dee Phillips once more. The woman uttered a little shriek of surprise when two cats suddenly materialized next to her cacti, and she adjusted her glasses to take a closer look at them, before saying,“Oh, it’s Mrs. Corr’s cats, isn’t it? Did you get lost, sweeties? Did you lose track of your human? Let me take you back to your room.”

“Poor woman,” said Harriet as Dee escorted them along the corridor. “She’s being cheated upon by her cheating boyfriend and she doesn’t even know it.”

“The cheat is being cheated,” said Brutus. “Frankly I don’t feel too bad for her.”

Soon they were back where they belonged: safe in the presence of Gran, and before long they were pouring the details of their successful mission into that woman’s very receptive and very eager ear.

9

Dee left Mrs. Corr feeling happy that she had returned that sweet old lady’s cats to her. She hoped they wouldn’t go wandering off again, for she could tell that it would break Janelle’s heart if something ever happened to those precious cats. She wasn’t a big cat lover herself, though she could condone the creatures, of course, but having worked at Happy Home for all of fifteen years now, and having met quite a few cats in her time, as well as dogs and other pets, she knew how important they were to their residents. And how much comfort they drew from the presence of their beloved pets.

The moment she closed the door to the Corr sisters’ room, the smile was wiped from her face, though, and the problem of the missing cats from her mind. She had other problems to deal with right now, and one problem stood out most prominently: the problem of Brian’s divorce. Or, more accurately put: the lack thereof.

Their affair had lasted almost as long as her employment, and in all that time she’d often asked him when he would finally get a divorce. His excuse had always been that he couldn’t divorce Sara when the kids were small, for it would traumatize them, and she wouldn’t want him to inflict that kind of emotional damage on them, would she?

But now that they were bigger, he still wasn’t getting closer to getting a divorce, and she was starting to feel that he hoped to keep stringing her along for as long as he could. Or as long as she was foolish enough to stay with him.

And then of course there was that horrible Gladys Judder woman, who kept showing up unannounced, and demanding exclusive access to Brian. She didn’t know what the woman was up to, but she had a feeling it was nothing good. The daughter of Jane Judder, one of their residents, Gladys had become ubiquitous in these past couple of weeks, and Dee didn’t like it. Even though Brian said it was because Jane’s health was failing, and Gladys wassimply worried, somehow she didn’t buy it.

As far as she could tell, Jane was just fine, and Gladys was using her mother simply as an excuse to see as much of Brian as she could.

All in all it had caused her to worry to such an extent that she had developed a slight and persistent headache, not to mention a lot of stress!

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Vesta was pleased to see her spies returning to base with so much actionable intel. It proved to her that she made the right decision in demanding that the cats accompany them to Happy Home.

“You did good,” she told Harriet and Brutus, giving them a pat on the head and a cat snack, which they happily gobbled up.

“Brian isn’t having one affair but two?” asked Scarlett, visibly astonished.

“Looks like,” said Vesta. “Though we have no way of knowing who this second woman is.” Nor did it matter, anyway. Their brief was to prove without a reasonable doubt that Brian Brooks was having an affair, and to that end they needed to collect photographic or videographic evidence of the man in flagrante delicto, as the term goes. “We need to smuggle a camera in there,” she said, having given the matter some thought. “And the best time to do that would be tonight.”

“Where are we going to get a camera?” asked Scarlett.

“Simple. We ask Odelia. I’m sure she’ll have something we can use. And then all we need to do is find the best spot to put it. Brian mustn’t find out, of course, or Dee, and preferably we’ll need to get them from different angles so we should spread them around his office.”

“If you say so,” said Scarlett, who didn’t look entirely convinced this was the way to go.

Max and Dooley’s report had been equally revealing, and as she related the events as they had transpired to Scarlett, they both realized the seriousness of the situation.

“Looks like Henry is working up to something,” she said. “We need to be vigilant, people. Make sure that whatever his plans are, we’re right there to thwart them.”

Dooley laughed at this.“Thwart isn’t a real word, is it, Gran?” he asked.

“Oh, yes it is,” she assured him. “And thwart is exactly what we’ll do. And to that end I’m going to divide you into teams. Harriet and Brutus, you keep an eye on Brian and Dee and this mystery woman Brian is seeing. I want to know who she is, and I want to know how often they, um, engagein these extracurricular activities. Dooley and Max, you’re Team Kirsten. You’re going to make sure that nothing Henry Kaur does in connection with that young woman escapes your attention. If that man so much as sneezes in the poor girl’s direction, I want to know.”

“Yes, Gran,” said Max dutifully.

“The four of you are going to be my eyes and ears in this place—is that understood?”

“Yes, Gran!” the four of them said in unison.

“And what am I supposed to do?” asked Scarlett. “Or you, for that matter?”

“We are going to put those cameras in Brian’s office,” said Vesta. “And we’re going to make sure that no harm comes to Kirsten. And so we’re going to put our ear to the ground and find out what Henry could be up to.” She would have said more, but a tap at the door interrupted this most-important briefing. “Yes!” she yelled, with just a touch of annoyance. No general likes to be interrupted when addressing their troops.

The door opened and a little white-haired old lady appeared. Behind her, another little white-haired old lady stood, and a white-haired old man. All three of them looked eager to have speech with them, so she gave up any hope of continuing her briefing, and vowed to come back to it later.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” asked the first little white-haired old lady in a shaky voice. “We thought we’d introduce ourselves. I’m Liz Murphy, and this is my husband Bill and my sister Olivia. We’re right down the hall, so I guess you could say we’re neighbors.”

“Howdy, neighbor,” said the woman’s husband, holding up a coal shovel of a hand.

“Howdy,” said Gran. “I’m Janelle Corr and this is my sister Janette.”

“See?” said Liz. “I told you they were sisters.”

“You don’t look nothing alike, though,” said Olivia. “Which is why I was wondering if you were actually sisters.”

“Oh, we’re sisters, all right,” said Vesta. “Only we’re not identical twins, of course.”

“We’re the same age, though,” said Scarlett. “Well, with some time in between to give our mother a chance to recover, of course.”

This little joke cracked them up, and broke the ice. Liz ventured deeper into the room, followed by the others, and soon they were chatting pleasantly about this and that, and about life at Happy Home in particular.

“Do you like bingo?” asked Olivia, directing her question at Scarlett. “We’re having bingo night tonight.”

“Oh, yes, you should come,” said Liz. “Bingo night is always fun. Almost everyone attends, and it’s always a fun night for all of us.”

“I never win, though,” said Bill. “But that doesn’t stop me from trying,” he concluded with a wistful expression on his face. He was a big man, and towered over his wife and sister-in-law. He reminded Vesta of Dick Van Dyke for some reason, and had the same goofy expression on his face.

“Is it true that you had Justin Bieber playing a show here last week?” asked Scarlett, who didn’t seem particularly excited about bingo night for some reason.

“Justin Bieber?” asked Liz. “Who’s he?”

“He’s that Canadian kid,” said her sister.

“Canadian kid? So what’s he doing in Hampton Cove?”

“Singing!” said Olivia. “He’s a singer.”

“Ooh, I like singers. Is he any good?”

“He wasn’t here,” said Bill, while the two ladies discussed Mr. Bieber’s singing qualities or lack thereof. “We had Daddy Crawfish, though. I don’t know the genre, but it’s like the stuff they sing on cruise ships. Very mellow and fun. They had to cut the show short, though. Somethingabout his ticker.”

“How old is Daddy Crawfish?” asked Scarlett.

“Eighty-eight, but still going strong. Though last thing I heard was that he’ll be joining us again, only this time as a resident.”

“Oh, whoopee,” Scarlett murmured.

10

“Such a pity none of these people have pets,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, it would make our lives a lot easier, not to mention our mission,” I said.

With a fellow pet it’s much easier to communicate, and find out what’s going on. But then we’d faced tougher odds than these, and since most of the residents at Happy Home left their doors open at all times, and didn’t seem to be annoyed when we walked in and out, it wasn’t all bad.

“So Brian is having a lot of affairs, is he?” asked Dooley as we trudged across the corridor to see what Henry was up to. “At least two, but there could be more. That makes him some kind of Casanova, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly seems that way,” I agreed. His wife wouldn’t be happy. Or maybe she would, cause now she would be able to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that her husband was cheating on her.

Henry wasn’t alone in his room, but this time it wasn’t Kirsten who kept him company but a fellow resident named Bob.

“Look, it’s going to be great,” Henry was saying. “With your contacts in the business, and the kind of life I’ve lived, you and I are going to write a bestseller, buddy.”

“I don’t know, Henry,” said Bob. “I’m afraid my writing days are over.”

“Nonsense. Once a writer, always a writer. So what do you say? All you have to do is write down my life story, and turn it into something readable. And then once you’ve managed to snag us a publisher, we’re in business.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Bob, who was a smallish man with a bulbous sort of head and a hangdog look about him.

“Great. I’ve got all these notebooks, and they’re filled with the stories I want to write about.” He chuckled freely. “You’d be surprised by some of the stuff I’ve lived through, Bob. And it’s all highly entertaining! And I do mean entertaining. We’re going to give that James Patterson fellow a run for his money, you and me!”

“That’s wonderful,” said Bob, looking particularly glum all of a sudden.

“He doesn’t look happy to give James Patterson a run for his money,” said Dooley.

“No, he certainly does not,” I agreed. “More like unhappy that he’s going to have to write Henry’s autobiography.”

“But it’s not going to be his autobiography, is it? Since he’s not going to write it himself.”

“Well, technically I guess Henry is using a ghostwriter to write his life story, but it is still going to be his autobiography since he’s the one dictating the story.”

“He’s going to use a ghost to write his life’s story?”

“Not an actual ghost,” I hastened to say. “It’s called a ghostwriter, since the so-called ghost does all the work but his name is never mentioned. In other words, he remains invisible, like a ghost.”

“Oh, I see,” said Dooley. “So I could write your life story, and be your ghost?”

“Yeah, if you were an actual writer, you could be my ghostwriter.”

“Gee thanks, Max,” said Dooley, bringing a paw to his chest. “That means so much to me.”

I glanced up at Henry’s notebooks, which were thick and presumably handwritten, and wondered if we shouldn’t organize a mission to take a look at those. They might tell us something about this guy, and why he was targeting Kirsten. Though after hearing Harriet and Brutus’s detailed field report about what Brian Brooks was up to, the motivating factor behind what a lot of men are up to could probably be summed up in one word: libido.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Bob left Henry’s room feeling a little out of sorts. On and on the man talked about his autobiography, and how keen he was on Bob writing it. The truth was that Bob had given up writing a long time ago. His arthritic hands wouldn’t support the habit, and neither would his failing eyesight. And besides, even when he was still a full-time professional writer, he preferred to write his own books, not other people’s stories. And to be perfectly honest he didn’t think Henry’s story was all that interesting.

Henry might think he’d lived an eventful life, but if Bob got a penny for all the people who’d walked up to him at some point and told him they had the most interesting life story to impart, only to turn out to be complete and absolute bores, he’d be a very rich man.

And having to sit there and listen to Henry drone on and on about that boring life while he took notes? No. Just no. All he wanted was to be left alone and spend the final years of his life in peace.

He actually would still be writing if he’d lived at home with his daughter Sharon. But Sharon had met a man who wanted to marry her, and since Bob didn’t want to stand in their way, he’d suggested Happy Home as a solution. That way Sharon’s fianc? Pete could move in, and eventually the couple could get hitched. The last thing Sharon and Pete needed was some old fogey hanging around cramping their style.

But the move to Happy Home had somehow put the kibosh on his writing. When Sharon was around, she helped him out from time to time, and even bought him dictation software and installed it on his computer so he could dictate his stories. And then she helped him to correct them, acting as his editor and also his first reader.

But of course now, at Happy Home, he didn’t have the puff to do all of that, and without Sharon he’d lost the habit, and didn’t think he’d ever pick it up again.

He shuffled into his own room, dropped down into his favorite armchair, and turned to the window to look out. He wondered what Sharon was up to right now. And Pete, of course. He hadn’t heard from his daughter in days. He missed her. Missed them both, actually, Pete being the son he never had. Great guy, and the perfect husband for Sharon. He was looking forward to the wedding, which couldn’t come soon enough for him.

11

Scarlett was feeling a little bored, to be honest. When she had suggested she join Vesta, she had been excited at this change of pace. But now that they were there, she realized she didn’t have anything to occupy her time. The cats were busy snooping around and generally keeping tabs on everyone, and Vesta was busy acting like the general of her private army. But Scarlett? She had nothing to do. Absolutely nothing, except sit around and watch television, or play bingo. Neither pastime held any particular interest to her, and neither did chatting with the other residents, most of whom seemed more interested in bingo night than sharing gossip with her.

And of course the lack of interesting men set the seal on her gloom. There were simply no guys under the age of eighty present, it seemed, except of course Brian, Desmond and Isaac. And so Scarlett being Scarlett, she had decided to start her own private little project, and focus her attentions on Isaac, Brian being far too busy entertaining his personal harem, and Desmond not being her type. At all.

So when Isaac dropped by later that morning, she halted him in his tracks long enough to try and extract some personal information from the young nursing assistant. It only took her about fifteen minutes to determine that he still lived with his mom and dad, didn’t have a girlfriend, never had had a girlfriend, wasn’t into boys but definitely into girls, and was deeply and desperately in love with Kirsten.

She got over her initial disappointment when she realized that here was a great new project for her. A mission of her own she could dedicate her energy to. And as she thought some more, already the contours of a challenge presented themselves to her.

Here was a young man who was in love with a young woman, but so far had failed to get to first base with that girl. And as it happens getting to first base—as well as all the other bases—was something she was particularly experienced in through long association with the male sex.

And so a decision was made: she was going to help Isaac get his girl.

“Have you talked to her? Told her how you feel?” she asked.

“Not as such,” Isaac confessed.

“Have you talked to her, period?”

“Oh, of course. I say hi to her all the time.”

“Just hi?”

“Well…” He thought for a moment. “I did tell her I liked her bike once.”

“That’s it? Hi and ‘I like your bike?’ That’s the extent of your conversations with her?”

“Well, yes,” he said sheepishly. “Though when I told her about her bike, she actually smiled and said ‘Thanks.’” He grinned. “It was the best day of my life, Mrs. Corr.”

“Miss,” she said automatically. How odd, she felt, that Isaac had worked with Kirsten for all of six months and never exchanged more than a few words with her. “But why?” she asked. “If you like her so much, why haven’t you talked to her?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to her,” said Isaac. “Just that the opportunity never seems to present itself. Every time I see her, either I choke, and don’t know what to say, or she’s with some other person.”

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend?”

“Not that I know. Though I could be wrong. All I know about Kirsten is what I read on her social media.”

“Mh,” said Scarlett, recognizing a lost cause when she saw one. Then again, she had never shied away from a challenge before, and since she had plenty of time on her hands, and was bored beyond measure even after having only spent a couple of hours at Happy Home, she decided to take up the gauntlet. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” she said. “We’re going to build up your confidence, and we’re going to make sure that Kirsten notices you, A, and B, starts taking an interest in you so that, hopefully, C, she might start to fancy you the way you fancy her.”

“I don’t think she’ll ever fancy me,” said Isaac, showing an astounding lack of self-esteem. “I mean, just look at me, and then look at her. She’s this… ultimate goddess. And I’m just some random idiot. I’m not handsome, I’m socially awkward, and—”

“Stop right there,” said Scarlett, holding up her hand like a traffic cop. “If you’re going to have a chance with this girl, you’re going to have to change that mindset, Isaac. And I mean a full reset, young man. First off, you’re handsome… ish, okay? Though you might want to do something about your hair. Who cuts it, your mother?”

“No, my grandmother,” said Isaac. “She lives with us.”

“Right. So I’m going to send you to a friend of mine who can work magic with a pair of scissors. His name is Fido and he’s a miracle worker. Tell him I sent you and he’ll give you a discount. Secondly…” She studied his clothes, which were the usual uniform all staff members wore. It wasblue with a white stripe and looked as unappealing as any uniform does. “Well, nothing we can do about that, I suppose,” she said with a sigh. It made him look like a eunuch, but that couldn’t be helped. “Now your social skills. We’re going to work on those. But what you need the most is simply some confidence. So we’re going to work on that, too.” She patted him on the head. “This is going to be just great. Exactly what I need—I mean, what you need.”

Isaac didn’t look completely convinced, but the prospect of at the very least being on speaking terms with the object of his affection gave short shrift to his objections. And so Scarlett’s new pet project began. She tentatively called it Pygmalion, unwittingly subscribing herself to a long and proud tradition.

12

While Scarlett dedicated herself to her pet project, Vesta decided to get acquainted with some of the other residents, and more in particular with Bob Sankiewicz, the reluctant biographer. If what Max had told her was correct, and she had no reason to doubt that redoubtable feline, Henry had selected Bob to write his autobiography, which meant he was perfectly placed to provide them with some background information on Kirsten’s stalker.

She found Bob in his room, reading his paper, which he put aside when she knocked on the door and walked in.

“Thought I’d introduce myself,” she said, taking a leaf from Liz and Olivia Murphy’s page. “My name is—”

“Janelle Corr,” said Bob. “And your sister is Janette Corr. News travels fast around here,” he said with an apologetic grin. “So this is your first day, huh? Don’t worry, you’ll settle in pretty quick. My name is Bob Sankiewicz, by the way.”

“How long have you been here, Bob?” she asked, entering the room, which was pleasantly furnished with an airy touch. She suspected the man hadn’t done this himself, and since he didn’t seem to have a wife, she suspected he had female relatives who’d done the honors.

“A year, give or take,” he said. “Though it feels a lot longer, I have to tell you.”

“So you’re alone here?” she asked.

“Yeah, my wife died two years ago. I’ve been living with my daughter Sharon since.”

He didn’t say why he had decided to move into Happy Home and she didn’t ask. He probably had his reasons and whatever they were, they were of no interest to her or her mission.

“So how long have some of these other residents been here?” she asked. “Take Henry, for instance. He been here long?”

Bob’s face clouded a little. He might be Henry’s future biographer, but clearly he wasn’t a great friend. “Henry? I’d say he’s been here the longest of all the people I know. Fifteen years maybe? Kate has been here probably ten years—that’s Kate Doyle.”

“I don’t think I’ve met Kate.”

“Oh, you will.” He made a whirling motion next to his temple. “She’s not all there, and tends to get lost from time to time, both geographically and mentally. So who have you met?”

“Well, Liz and Bill Murphy and Liz’s sister Olivia were the first people who introduced themselves to us just now.”

“They would,” he said with a smile. “Liz is a real pistol. Very sociable and easygoing, and her husband is a great fella. I’m not sure how long they’ve been here. I think they arrived before Ester. Ester Teasle? Oh, you have to meet Ester. She’s a great gal. A little lonely, though. Herson is some hotshot Wall Street banker, and instead of putting her in some nice place close to home, he put her all the way up here and then never visits! Can you imagine?” He shook his head at so much callousness. “She’s been here two years now.”

“Does your daughter visit you often?” asked Vesta, starting to realize that this was an important issue for Bob.

“Oh, sure. Sharon is in here all the time. Sometimes every day, if work permits. She works in town, you see, and drops by on her way home. How about you? Any relatives?”

Vesta took a deep breath.“Well, my husband died a couple of years ago, though frankly no great loss there, since we had been estranged for a while. And I’ve got a daughter and son-in-law and a granddaughter and even a great-granddaughter now.”

“Isn’t that great,” said Bob with feeling. “Sharon never had much luck in that department. Got divorced twice, before she had the chance to start a family. She met a wonderful fellow now, though. Pete Walker. He’s the reason I’m in here. I wanted to give them as much space as they needed. Newlyweds, you know. Didn’t want to cramp their style.”

“How long have they been married?”

“Well, they haven’t. Not yet. But it won’t be long now. They’re taking their time, though. Won’t rush into things.” He gave her a brittle smile, which told her that he was worried that this marriage wouldn’t last either, just like Sharon’s previous ones.

“I’m sure they’ll announce it soon enough,” she said.

“Oh, absolutely,” said Bob, perking up a little. “Anyway, enough about me. Today is about you and your sister. We should organize a welcome party or something. Let me talk to Brian and see if we can’t arrange something.”

“That’s not necessary,” she hastened to say. The last thing they needed was to attract the attention and the scrutiny of the entire community. In and out in a couple of days had been her plan—long enough to accomplish both missions, short enough not to attract attention and be recognized byone of the other residents. “My sister isn’t a big one for parties,” she explained. “She’s pretty shy that way. Hates attention.”

Bob’s eyebrows shot up. “Now is that a fact?”

“So how about this bingo night? Any tips?”

“Don’t go,” he said immediately. “Unless you want to be bored stiff.”

She grinned.“I have to admit I’m not all that big on bingo myself.”

“Sound reasoning, Janelle. Very sound,” he said with a wink.

“So you’re not going?”

“Oh, I’m going. Any excuse not having to sit alone in my room.” When he realized how sad this sounded, he quickly added, “There’s some great people here, you’ll see. And once you get to know them, you’ll be happy you chose Happy Home as your final destination.”

She gulped a little at this, then said her goodbyes and left. Final destination sounded so darn… final!

13

Brutus wasn’t too sure about this so-called mission they’d been handed. He might like to talk tough but deep down he was a real homebody, and liked nothing better than to spend time in his favorite spot, eating his favorite food, and cuddling up to his favorite human—in his case Chase. Even though the man was a self-professed dog person, Brutus wasn’t convinced. Deep down he knew that Chase was actually a cat person, and if he wasn’t now, he would be once Brutus was finished with him.

But if Harriet said they were going on a mission, they were going on a mission, cause he would never leave the side of his favorite cat in all the world—his sweetheart Harriet.

She might be cranky from time to time, and a little high-maintenance at other times, but that had never bothered him. In fact he still thanked his lucky stars every single day for putting Harriet on his path—the best moment of his life.

But now this mission. Following the strangely promiscuous retirement home manager around, trying to catch him in the act, had sounded weird enough, but having to keep following him was even worse. There were certain things Brutus felt no cat should ever have to see, and one of them was most definitely humans having sex. Yuck.

“I think I’m going to need therapy when this mission is over,” he confessed now. They were traipsing along the corridor, attracting a lot of attention from the residents, who couldn’t stop staring at them, with some of them even reaching out and trying to pet them—until Harriet emitted that low growl she was so rightly famous for, and immediately they retracted their hands, probably figuring they might lose a finger if they dared touch this prissy Persian and her big black sidekick.

“And why is that?” asked Harriet.

“Watching humans having sex,” he said, and shivered at the recollection. “It’s just so… gross.”

“I know, right? I don’t know why they do it. I mean, I know why, of course. To make babies. But they get all naked and stuff, with all of their flabby bits hanging out and shaking all around. It’s disgusting.”

“It’s my eyes, mainly,” said Brutus. “They haven’t stopped burning.”

“Mine, too,” said Harriet. “I think Gran should have given us a warning.”

“Nothing could have prepared us for that,” said Brutus, and he meant it, too.

At least cats had the dignity to keep their clothes on—not that they could take them off, of course, but still. When this mission was over, he was going to demand hazard pay in the form of extra-tasty Cat Snax for at least the next year or so. And no more divorce cases.

“Odelia had a point when she said she doesn’t do divorces,” he said. “I just didn’t realize why she didn’t want to do them.” Now he did, though, but it was too late. “The worst thing is that you can’t unsee what we saw back there.”

“In time I’m hoping it will fade,” said Harriet, but she didn’t sound convinced.

“I heard hypnosis helps. Makes you forget things.” Though he wasn’t banking on it. And besides, Odelia probably had better things to do with her time and money than to escort her cats to a hypnotist. Also, what hypnotist would take their case?

“This is it,” said Harriet, halting in front of a door that had been opened to a crack. “At least if the information Gran gave us is correct.” Which was always an iffy proposition with that old lady.

They entered the room, and saw that the resident they had come to meet was entertaining a visitor. Liz Murphy was seated across from Jane Judder—at least Brutus supposed the other person was Jane Judder, whose daughter Gladys they’d seen with Brian.

“I don’t believe it,” said Jane now. She was a rather plump old lady with her hair done up in intricate little white curls, her jowly face now trembling with indignation. “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. Your daughter is having an affair with Brian. It’s all over the home, Jane. And this is the reason she keeps showing up here—not to visit you, but to engage in carnal relations with that man.” She sat back, satisfied that her little bit of gossip hadn’t failed to grip.

Jane closed her eyes, then opened them again when a horrifying idea occurred to her.“She’s not going to marry him, is she? I’ve got nothing against Brian, don’t get me wrong, but having to call that man ‘son-in-law’ is simply too much!”

“I don’t think they’ll marry. Brian is already married, and to a fine woman, too.”

“Gladys is a widow,” said Jane sadly, as if it was her daughter’s fault that she’d lost her husband. “And a rich widow at that.”

“Which is probably the reason Brian is so interested in her,” said Liz, who was proving herself to be a regular gossip machine. She scooted a little closer to Jane and lowered her voice. “They say he’s got financial problems, and so maybe he’s pumping your daughter for a quick cash injection.”

Jane shivered at the mention of the words‘pumping’ and ‘injection.’ “Please don’t talk like that, Liz,” she implored. “Imagine having to look at Brian across the Thanksgiving dinner table, and having to watch him handling the carving knife. I’ll never live it down.”

“He won’t divorce his wife,” Liz said. “Sara is the one with the money. If he divorces her, this place is going down the tubes.”

They shared a look of concern.“Maybe he should marry Gladys,” said Jane. “Then at least we’ll both have a place here. Cause if Happy Home goes down the tubes, I don’t know where I’m going to stay!”

“Who are you then?” suddenly a voice demanded. Brutus had been so focused on the intriguing conversation that he had failed one of a spy’s most important tasks: always to keep an eye on one’s surroundings, so no adversary can surprise you.

He looked up now, and discovered to his surprise that all the while they were being observed by a very colorful parrot!

“My name is Harriet,” said Harriet haughtily. “And you are?”

“Polly,” said the parrot. “Very clich?, I know, but then no one ever accused Jane of being an original thinker.”

“So Jane is your human?” asked Brutus.

“That’s right. Who’s yours?”

“We have plenty,” he said. “Though one of them is staying here at the moment—undercover on a mission, just like we are.”

“Oh, so you guys are like spies or something?” asked the parrot, her interest piqued.

“That’s exactly right,” said Harriet proudly. “We’re feline spies, on a very important mission. And this mission involves your human, her daughter, and Brian Brooks.”

“Brian Brooks,” the parrot scoffed. “Now there’s a regular specimen. Did you know that he comes in here whenever Jane is out, and then uses this room to have some nookie with Gladys?” She closed her eyes in disgust and shook her head. “Terrible. Absolutely terrible. You wouldn’t believe the things I have seen.”

“I know,” said Brutus quietly. “We’ve seen the same things.”

“The horror, the horror,” said the parrot in a low voice.

“It’s terrible,” Harriet agreed wholeheartedly. “But as spies we have to be tough and not let it get to us. The mission is everything, you see, and we’re trained to withstand the worst kinds of torture.”

“Not that kind of torture, surely,” said Polly, her voice full of admiration.

Harriet nodded.“Even that.”

“You guys are braver than me. Much braver.”

“So Brian is in here all the time, is he?” asked Brutus, eager to glean some more tidbits of information they could relay to Gran.

“Oh, yes. You see, Jane likes to play cards in the afternoon. Every afternoon. And Brian knows this, and so does Gladys. Which is why they use this time to get up to all kinds of no good.” She made a face. “And I have to sit here and watch it!”

“You could always close your eyes,” Harriet suggested.

“Oh, but I do. But even so, I have to listen to them—and I’m not sure what’s worse: the sight of humans having sex or the sound!”

It was an aspect of the matter Brutus hadn’t considered. So far they’d only seen the couple through the window, without the sound being turned on. He dreaded the moment Gran would send them in there again, and this time they might be subjected to the version with sound!

“I salute you,” said Polly reverently. “You’re both very, very brave. And I unreservedly take back everything I ever said about cats being the nastiest creatures on the planet. I stand corrected. Absolutely corrected.” And to show them she meant what she said, she actually brought her right wing to her right temple in a salute!

Now those were the moments one lived for, and Brutus couldn’t wait to tell Max. The chubby blorange cat might be the greatest feline detective that had ever lived, but he probably had never been saluted by a parrot!

Score one for Team Harriet and Brutus!

14

While Harriet and Brutus were digging into the complicated love life of Brian Brooks, Dooley and I decided to look in on Henry once more. We hadn’t actually seen Kirsten walk in, but that didn’t stop us from spying on the man. I was still very much interested in taking a look at his notebooks, containing all the details of his long and adventurous life—as soon chronicled by Bob, at least if the latter accepted the job, which seemed unlikely.

“I want to look at his notes,” I told my friend.

“And I want to look at his bathroom,” said Dooley.

“Why his bathroom?”

“I once read that you can learn a lot about a person from looking at their bathroom.”

“The only thing you will learn is how good Brian’s cleaning staff is,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess,” said Dooley. “But still. Maybe he keeps all kinds of dark secrets in there. Secrets he doesn’t want to share with anyone!”

“Except with the cleaners,” I said. “Who are in there every day.”

“He could have organized a secret hiding place.”

“Why not,” I said.

And we would have snuck into Henry’s room once again, if the old man himself hadn’t stepped out at that moment, and we almost bumped into him. He hadn’t noticed us, though, his attention focused on the man who was sweeping the floor in the corridor. He was a slovenly dressed man, with greasy long hair and a dirty baseball capplanted on top of all of that grease. He also had some kind of facial growth going, though it looked a little ragged, just like the man himself.

“Hey, you,” said Henry now, possibly addressing the cleaner, though I very much doubted the man’s name was Hey You.

“Leave it, man,” said the cleaner, as he continued to sweep the floor with one of those mops that consists of a bunch of cotton strings.

“I’m not going to leave it,” said Henry, and tapped the man in the chest with a finger. “You’re making the floor even dirtier. You should be making it cleaner, but you’re making it dirtier.”

“Not again with this nonsense,” said the man, leaning on his mop. “How many times, man?”

“As long as it takes to get it through that thick skull of yours that you should use a bucket of clean soapy water, and fill a new bucket every couple of meters, and not keep pushing the same dirt around all the time.”

“I am a professional, man. I do this for a living. When was the last time you cleaned a floor, huh? Tell me that.”

“I don’t have to clean the floor. I live here. I pay for the privilege of living here, in a clean place. And since I pay through the nose for your salary, I have every right to tell you how to do your job, especially since you don’t seem to be bothered to do it well.”

“Look, if you don’t like the way I clean, take it up with the manager, all right? And now leave me alone, you old fart.”

“I’m going to leave you alone the moment you start cleaning the floor the way it should be cleaned,” Henry insisted, then gave the man a hard poke in the chest.

“Now why did you have to go and do that for!” the guy cried as he grabbed hold of Henry’s finger and pushed him away from him.

Henry stumbled and almost fell, and had to hold on to the wall to keep his balance.

“You could have killed me!” Henry cried. “You maniac!”

“Yeah, well, read the sign,” said the cleaner with a nasty grin. He gestured to the yellow folding safety sign that said, ‘Caution. Floor may be slippery when wet.’

The sign depicted a person slipping on a slippery floor, and looked exactly like Henry right now, so the reference was apt, even though a little mean-spirited.

“And now buzz off, you fool,” the cleaner growled unpleasantly. “Unlike you, I gotta work for a living. And you’re not making it any easier, you know.” And with these words, he returned to mopping the floor with an admittedly dirty mop.

“Henry is right. He’s simply pushing the dirt around,” Dooley said after we had watched him for a few moments.

Henry himself had grumbled something about filing an official complaint with the manager and had retreated into his room, this time closing the door for good measure.

“Yeah, he’s not doing a very good job,” I agreed.

“Maybe it’s a special technique? A technique us laycats don’t know about?”

“I think he’s just being lazy,” I said. “And he simply can’t be bothered to refill his bucket every once in a while and squirt in some fresh detergent.”

The water was very dirty, I saw, with not a hint of soapy suds at this point.

“I wouldn’t want to see his bathroom,” said Dooley with an expression of utter distaste. “I’ll bet it smells.”

I had the impression that this wasn’t the first run-in Henry had with this cleaner, and I wondered what the man’s name was. But I saw Gran had returned from her interview with Bob, and that Harriet and Brutus had returned from their quest to check in on Gladys’s mother. Even Scarlett had returned from her personal mission to bring together two sundered hearts, even though one of those hearts didn’t even realize it was sundered. And so we all headed into the room the ‘Corr sisters’ shared, and talked turkey.

15

The evening had come, and the six of us were attending something called‘bingo night.’

“This is so exciting, Max,” said Dooley. “I’ve never played bingo before. How does it work?”

Honestly I had no clue how bingo worked, never having played the game either. But when I saw the expression of displeasure on Gran’s face, I had the feeling it wasn’t as much fun as Dooley anticipated. Scarlett looked more enthusiastic, though that could have had something to do with the fact that Isaac was picking the balls, an essential part of bingo, apparently, and was standing in front of a room filled with dozens ofresidents, looking nervous—Isaac, not the residents, who all looked very excited.

And when I followed the young man’s gaze, I could tell why he was nervous: Kirsten was in the room, assisting residents to their tables and onto their chairs.

Apparently Scarlett had given Isaac strict instructions on how to behave in front of Kirsten, and now was the time to show us if her coaching had paid off.

“Bingo consists of a number of balls being drawn from that bingo spinner over there,” Harriet explained. “The caller, in this case Isaac, will pick a ball from the spinner and call out the combination—always a letter and a number. The players will check if they have that combination on their scorecard, and if they have, they will place a chip on that space. The caller will keep on calling out these letter-number combinations until one of the players—or several—manage to get five chips in a row on their scorecard. This could be a horizontal line, a vertical one or a diagonal row.”

Dooley had been listening with bated breath.“You have played bingo before!”

“No, I haven’t, but Shanille’s human has. Father Reilly loves bingo, and has been organizing games at the community center for years. Gran used to be a regular, but she gave up at some point. Too boring is what she said.”

“She does look bored,” Dooley determined.

“Probably because she reckons it’s a distraction from our mission,” said Brutus. “For your true spy the mission is everything, and anything that distracts from the successful completion of the mission is a nuisance.”

“But doesn’t James Bond get distracted all the time?” asked Dooley. “James Bond should be focusing on the bad guy, but instead he’s sitting at the bar of a casino drinking and looking at the ladies. That’s not part of his mission, is it?”

Brutus had to admit there was some truth in what our friend was saying. James Bond gets distracted all the time, and it often involves alcohol or women or both. And still he somehow manages to successfully complete his missions. It’s a mystery where he finds the time.

Gran was seated between the Murphy sisters and Bob Sankiewicz, and before long the show began. I had to admit that Gran may have had a point. There wasn’t a whole lot going on. Isaac kept spinning that spinner as if his life depended on it, picking out balls and reading out the combinations. Whereupon there was some rustling and murmuring as the residents placed their chips on their scorecards. From time to time someone would yell, ‘Bingo!’ and the whole thing would start from the beginning.

“How long does this go on?” I asked after a while. “I mean, it seems to me it could go on indefinitely.” Which would mean we would be locked in a sort of Groundhog Day scenario for the rest of our lives, playing bingo.

“I have no idea,” said Harriet. “Shanille didn’t tell me about this part. Just the general setup.” She nudged her mate. “Look over there, boogie bear. Brian is here.”

“Right,” said Brutus, and immediately I could see him tense up. Your true spy never relaxes his vigilance and is always ready for action. “Just look at him looking,” he grunted. “Like a predator hunting for prey. Three women is not enough. He wants more. He wants them all!”

“Somehow I doubt whether he’ll find what he’s looking for amongst this crowd,” said Harriet. But then we all had the same thought, and our eyes swiveled to Kirsten. And lo and behold: Brian was at that moment making his way in her direction!

“Will you look at that!” said Harriet. “He’s going in, you guys. Brian is going to hit on Kirsten!”

“I doubt that very much,” I said. “She’s his employee, after all, and that would be very much against the…”

But as we watched on, Brian struck up a conversation with Kirsten, causing the latter to listen intently. When the boss speaks, the underlings have to listen!

“Looks like our two missions have just become one,” said Brutus, giving me a serious look.

On the stage Isaac must have noticed the same interaction taking place, for instead of picking the next ball from the picker, he just stood there, gawking like an idiot.

“Next ball!” someone called out.

“Oh, right,” said Isaac, realizing his mistake, and resumed his important task.

“Fun, isn’t it?” said Liz as she placed another chip on her card. “I love bingo.”

“Me, too,” said her sister.

“Me not so much,” Liz’s husband muttered.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” said Liz now, as she leaned into Gran. “I don’t know if you’re into crime fiction, Janelle, or your sister maybe, but Bill and Olivia and me, we love a good murder mystery. In fact when we first got here we talked Brian into adding a nice collection of murder mysteries to the library, and now they’re amongst the most popular books.”

“My favorite is James Patterson,” said Olivia.

“Patterson isn’t murder mystery,” said Liz. “How many times do I have to tell you? Patterson is thriller.”

“I like him anyway,” said Olivia stubbornly.

“It’s important to know the genre,” said Liz. “But anyway, since we love a good murder mystery so much, we decided to form a club.”

“Is that a fact?” said Gran, who clearly wasn’t interested.

“A murder club!” said Liz with relish. “We will pick out some old case, and then try and work through the clues until we manage to solve the case. It’s so much fun. So now my question to you is: do you want to join our murder club? It’s not as much fun as bingo, of course, but it’s still a great way to pass the time.”

“A murder club?” said Gran, suddenly interested. “You mean you actually solve real murders?”

“Oh, no!” said Liz with a chuckle. “Not real murders, of course.”

“There has never been a real murder in this place,” said Bill, and sounded regretful. “But then it might happen one day—you never know.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t!” said Olivia with a slight shiver. “Imagine a murder happening here. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night!”

“No murder is going to happen here, Olivia,” said Liz. “Not at Happy Home.” She turned to Gran. “There’s plenty of true crime books out there, and there are TV shows, of course, or even podcasts—I don’t know if you know what a podcast is?”

“It’s like a radio show, only not live,” Olivia explained.

“It’s not like a radio show,” said Bill. “It’s on the internet.”

“Well, anyway, there’s plenty of material for us to work through,” said Liz. “And since these are old cases, we can check later who managed to pick the right suspect.”

“I picked out the murderer on the last one we did,” said Olivia proudly.

“Yeah, Olivia is a real pro,” said Liz with a smile. “Me, I never get it right!”

“That’s because you go for the obvious ones. You need to dig deeper, Liz!”

“I know, I know. But even though I never guess who the killer is, I still love it!”

“We’re like real detectives,” said Bill. “Only not really, of course.”

“So what do you say, Janelle? Do you want to join the club?”

Gran gave her a polite smile.“Can I think about it?”

“Oh, sure. But don’t wait too long. We’re just about to tackle a new case, and it’s important to be on top of it from the beginning. If you so much as miss one single clue, it might throw your entire investigation out of whack!”

“I never miss a clue,” said Olivia.

“Bingo!” someone yelled, and that was that.

Once the next game had started, Bob leaned in and said,“Did Liz ask you to join her murder club?”

“Yeah, she did,” Gran confirmed. “Why, are you a member, Bob?”

Bob grimaced.“I wouldn’t want to be seen dead in that club.” Then he realized how his words might be interpreted. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. What I mean is—who wants to deal with murder all the time? It’s depressing.”

“Yeah, I guess it might be,” said Gran carefully, not wanting to let on that she dealt with murder on a regular basis.

“They ask every new person to join,” said Bob. “My advice? Don’t do it. Focus on the living, not the dead.” He gave a knowing nod. “You’ll be much happier that way.”

“Thanks for the advice,” said Gran with a tight smile.

“I think she’s going to join the club,” said Dooley. “She has that determined look on her face. The look that says: I’m going to do what I want, whatever anyone says.”

Dooley was right. Gran did have that mulish look on her face. She’s one of those people who always does the opposite of what people tell her to do. And since Bob had practically told her not to join the club, chances were that was exactly what she would do. And besides, a murder club was right up her alley. Much more fun than bingo!

“Do you think we can also join the club, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I doubt it,” I said. “Liz and her husband and sister probably aren’t as accommodating to sleuthing felines as Gran and Marge and Odelia.”

“I’m going in,” said Brutus now.

“You’re going in where?” asked Dooley.

“I’m going to find out what Brian and Kirsten are talking about,” he said, and took off in that direction, with Harriet right on his tail.

“What about our mission, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Well, Henry is over there,” I said, “playing bingo, and Kirsten is over there, talking to her boss, so as far as I’m concerned, we get to take a break from our mission.”

“Just like James Bond!” Dooley said happily.

“Yeah, though I don’t think James Bond plays bingo on his breaks.”

16

Desmond had been harassing her again, and so this time Kirsten decided to say something to Brian about the guy. Only when she finally managed to snag her boss’s attention, he had seemed curiously distracted, darting occasional glances at the exit.

“And then he came up behind me as I was loading the trays, and placed his hand on my buttocks,” she said. “So of course I immediately turned around and slapped him across the face. But when I told him I’d report him, do you know what he said?”

“Mh?” said Brian, hardly paying attention.

“He said it was my word against his, and since there were no witnesses, no one would believe me!”

“Could you, um, put that in writing, please, Miss Williams?” said Brian. “Ask Dee for the correct form. Then hand it in and I’ll take it through the proper channels.”

“But…”

“That’s great,” he muttered, and took off again. And as she stood there, confused and annoyed, she saw that two cats sat staring at her intently. They were the cats that belonged to the two new residents—the Corr sisters. One was big and black and the other fluffy and white. She gave them afeeble smile and would have petted them but she wasn’t exactly in the mood.

She should have known that Brian would simply brush off her complaint. He would side with Desmond, just like that creep had predicted, and now her own job might be hanging in the balance!

But she couldn’t very well allow that man to keep harassing her on a daily basis now could she? She had to stop him somehow. Make him see that his behavior was not okay. Worse, it was probably grounds for dismissal—if Brian was a normal boss, and not the kind who simply didn’t care!

Shaking her head, she helped old Mrs. Teasle with her bingo card, and adjusted the pillow in Mrs. Doyle’s chair.

On the stage, the bingo picking was still going strong, with Isaac leading proceedings. She had to smile as she watched the young man. She didn’t know him very well, but he seemed nice enough. He was very shy, though, which made it hard to get to know him as a colleague. But at least he wasn’t a creep like Desmond. Isaac must have noticed that she was watching him, for a smile suddenly materialized on his face. It was just about the weirdest smile she had ever seen. More a rictus grin than an actual smile. It made him look like Pennywise, that killer clown from the movie IT.

She shivered and had to look away.

What was happening? Why was she surrounded by creeps and jerks everywhere she looked? For she had spotted Desmond now, who stood leaning casually in the doorframe, watching her intently, a lascivious grin on his face.

She quickly made her way to the front of the room, and joined Henry, who was playing bingo in a sort of desultory fashion.

“Can I join you for the next game?” she asked.

Henry perked up at this.

At least one man in this place was still normal and courteous. Probably the only one who had her back!

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Later that evening, Odelia dropped by with some much-needed tools: namely a series of small cameras that could be used for surveillance, and which Gran and Scarlett would have to plant in Brian’s office. She explained to them in simple terms how the equipment worked, and once she was satisfied that her team had been sufficiently briefed, she listened as Gran and Scarlett reported to her about the events as they had transpired that day.

Odelia had come in through the window, since she couldn’t be seen by anyone. It made the whole thing that much more exciting. Like an actual secret mission.

“It’s amazing how professional Odelia is,” said Dooley, his voice expressing his admiration for our human. “How she leads her team with such decision and ease.”

“It’s not hard to lead a team this great,” said Harriet. “For a leader is only as good as the team they lead, and Odelia has the best team in Brutus and myself… and you and Max, of course,” she added after a pause.

“So what did you find out about Brian and Kirsten?” I asked. We hadn’t had the opportunity to compare notes yet, since bingo had lasted for what felt like an eternity, and when the show was over, Scarlett had had to buck up Isaac, when the latter had been thoroughly ignored by Kirsten once more. He had followed her instructions and had tried to connect by means of a simple smile, but the moment Kirsten had clocked the smile, she had blanched and fled the scene. I hadn’t seen the smile myself, but by all accounts it would have made any actor playing The Joker jealous. Clearly the youngman had a lot to learn.

“The weirdest thing,” said Brutus. “Kirsten was complaining about Desmond, but Brian didn’t seem interested. Just told her to file a form with his PA and that was that.”

“Why was she complaining about Desmond?” I asked.

“Turns out that Desmond is some kind of sex pest,” said Harriet, “and has been harassing Kirsten from the day she arrived. Only he went too far this time, placing his hand on her buttocks and then daring her to tell Brian, figuring he wouldn’t believe her without a witness backing up her story.”

“And he was right,” said Brutus. “Brian clearly didn’t believe a word she said.”

“Brian wasn’t interested,” said Harriet. “I think he probably has bigger fish to fry. The man is juggling three women already, and doesn’t want to get involved with a fourth.” She shook her head. “I was wrong about that man. Or perhaps about men in general. There seems to be a limit to the number of women he wants to get involved with. And three is definitely the absolute maximum for Brian.”

“Or maybe he’s facing some other issues that we don’t know about,” I suggested.

“We’ll soon know more,” said Brutus, gesturing to the high-tech gadgets Odelia had placed on the table. “Once those are installed, Brian’s life will be like an open book to us.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

That night I had trouble sleeping. Even though technically we were allowed to go out, Gran had told us she preferred if we stuck around for the time being.

“You never know if this maniac attacks Kirsten in the middle of the night,” she said. And with maniac she wasn’t referring to Desmond but to Henry, of course. I could have told her that Kirsten didn’t live on the premises but went home every night, just like any employee anywhere, but she wouldn’t have listened. Once Gran has some idea in her head, it’s hard to get it replaced by some other, better idea.

And then of course there was Brian. Somehow Gran seemed to think that the man might cheat on his wife in the middle of the night. I told her that no secretary likes to work that late, but my protestations didn’t register.

“So when are we going to install those cameras?” asked Dooley.

All four of us were wandering the halls, enjoying the peace and quiet that the absence of the human cohort brings.

“Tomorrow night,” said Harriet. “Gran wants to make sure she knows how these things work. She wants to test them out. And also, she’s sending me and Brutus in again to check Brian’s office and decide on the best angle to put the cameras.” She shivered. “I hope he and Dee will take a break tomorrow. I don’t want to have to go through that terrible ordeal again.”

“It’s brutal, that’s what it is,” Brutus agreed. “Having to watch humans making love is like watching the worst horror movie ever made. I’m going to need intense therapy when this is all over. Multiple sessions.”

“Vena will know a good pet therapist,” said Dooley helpfully. But he received a nasty look for his trouble. I had the impression Brutus wasn’t actually going into therapy. “I once heard Odelia and Chase making love,” said Dooley now. “It sounded like hard work.”

Harriet and I shared a look of concern. We like to shield Dooley from these human peccadillos as much as we can, but sometimes some incident will slip through the cracks. He’s still very much an innocent, our Dooley, and we like to keep it that way.

“Chase was grunting and heaving and sounding exactly the same as when he’s in the gym,” Dooley continued with a frown as he tried to recollect the momentous occasion. “And Odelia was moaning as if she was in intense pain.” He shook his head. “I was very worried. But when I asked Odelia if she was in pain, she said she wasn’t.”

“Wait, you interrupted Odelia and Chase when they were making love?” asked Brutus with a grin.

“Yes, I did. And when they turned on the light I could see that I was right to interrupt. Chase was all sweaty, just like he is when he’s bench-pressing those heavy weights. And Odelia’s face was all red and puffy, and her pupils were dilated. And then when I asked what they were doing, Odelia said they were practicing a fire drill. But when I told her I hadn’t heard a fire alarm, she said that’s why they call it a drill. And then later when I told Kingman, he laughed and said it wasn’t a fire drill but something called sex. He didn’t explain, though, but it’s stuck with me ever since.” He glanced at Harriet and Brutus. “So maybe tomorrow I’ll come with you? I’m very curious about this sex thing, and how it works with humans.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dooley,” Harriet was quick to say.

“Not, human sex is not a great sight,” Brutus chimed in, then directed a look of concern in my direction.

“But I thought sex was just kissing?” asked Dooley. “But the way Odelia and Chase were kissing, it sounded more like they were wrestling.”

“Human sex does share certain similarities with the sport of wrestling,” I said. “And you know how violent wrestling can get, Dooley.”

“Oh, I know. They throw each other around all the time, and sit on each other, and rub their butts in each other’s faces.”

“Well, that’s exactly what human sex is like,” said Brutus.

“They rub their butts in the other person’s face?” asked Dooley, looking distinctly worried now.

“Um… they might,” said Brutus. “Absolutely.”

“What a strange way to make babies,” said Dooley.

“Humans are strange,” said Harriet. “We all know that. So is it any wonder that the way they make babies is also very strange?”

“No, I guess not,” said Dooley. “But I do hope they won’t make a second baby. If what I saw taught me anything, it’s that they might not survive the next time!”

“Wise words,” I murmured sympathetically. Though I hoped he wouldn’t share them with Odelia. She might not enjoy the implications.

We turned a corner, and suddenly found ourselves face to face with an elderly woman, who looked a little rough around the edges. She was dressed in a flannel nightgown, her long gray hair was flowing down bony shoulders, and she had a sort of haunted look in her eyes. She didn’t even seem to see us as those eyes were focused on a point in the middle distance. And all the while she was muttering strange oaths under her breath.

“What is she saying?” asked Brutus.

“I’m not sure,” I said, trying my darnedest to understand her message. “Something about… being late for school?”

She was heading for the emergency exit at the end of the corridor, and took a firm grip on the horizontal bar that unlocks the mechanism. She gave it a good rattle but lacked the power to push it all the way down, so the door wouldn’t budge.

“I’ll be late,” she muttered. “Late for school!”

“See?” I said. “I knew it was something to do with school.”

“Poor woman,” said Dooley. “She wants to go to school and they won’t let her. Such a pity.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Dooley,” said Harriet. “There is no school.”

“Maybe she means night school?” Dooley suggested.

“Night school doesn’t actually take place this late at night, though,” I said. “No, I think she’s probably confused.”

“Who is she?” asked Brutus.

“I think her name is Kate Doyle. Bob told Gran she’s a little confused.”

“Maybe she’s Henry’s wife,” said Dooley.

“Henry’s wife died, I think,” said Harriet.

“So maybe she’s the ghost of Henry’s wife?”

Harriet sighed.“Oh, Dooley.”

Mrs. Doyle kept on rattling that door, becoming more and more agitated. Until suddenly bingo meister Isaac turned up, perhaps alerted by the sound—or maybe they had CCTV in this corridor, and escorted the confused woman back to her room.

“Come along now, Mrs. Doyle,” he said as he gently took her by the arm and led her away.

“I have to get to school,” said the woman. “I’m going to be late. I can’t keep my students waiting.”

“It’s a holiday, Mrs. Doyle. Didn’t they tell you? There’s no school today.”

“Oh, why didn’t they tell me!” she complained.

“They must have forgotten,” said Isaac. “Now let’s get you back to bed, shall we?”

“Gosh darn it. And I graded all of those papers, and now there’s no school today?”

“That’s right.”

We watched the duo move down the corridor, and Dooley said,“Nope. That’s no ghost. Ghosts can move through walls, and no doors can stop them.” He thunked his head. “Silly me.”

17

The next morning at breakfast we sat with a woman named Ester Teasle. We’d already heard about her from Bob, but it was nice to put a face with the name. She was a heavyset woman with short-cropped hair and a fleshy nose who seemed nice enough, albeit a little sad. Which, if what Bob had told Gran was true, was understandable. And as she told us her story, it turned out that Bob hadn’t lied.

“It’s my evil daughter-in-law who got me into this mess,” she confided.

“What do you mean?” asked Scarlett as she expertly buttered a piece of toast, applied a thin layer of strawberry jam, and took the daintiest of nibbles.

“It’s a long story,” said Ester as she wiped her lips with a napkin. She was eyeing Gran and Scarlett and clearly wondering whether to tell the story or not.

“Go on,” said Gran. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Well, all right then,” said Ester, and seemed grateful for the listening ear. “My son is a banker, you see, one of those Wall Street hotshots, I guess you might call him. He works with hedge funds or whatever they are, and makes a lot of money. So he got this big fancy apartment in Manhattan, and another place in Scarsdale, and two lovely kids, and we were all doing just fine. I was still living in my own apartment back then, which he bought for me, and we were all very happy. The grandkids came to visit me all the time, and we spent all the holidays together as a family.”

“What about your husband?” asked Gran as she took a sip from her hot chocolate and made appreciative noises. Gran is an expert on hot chocolate, and knows how to separate the good ones from the bad.

“We lost Jack a couple of years back,” said Ester. “But that’s another story. So all of a sudden my son’s wife died. Sandy was a lovely person, and a wonderful mother to the kids. And so my son mourned her for a while, until he met this woman at a party.”

“Also a banker?” asked Scarlett.

“No, she’s what you might call a socialite. Which means she doesn’t do anything,” said Ester, and already I could tell she wasn’t very fond of her son’s new wife. “So they get married, and she moves into Kirk’s condo with the kids, and then she takes one good look at me—”

“You were living with your son at this point?” asked Gran.

“Yeah, I was. After Sandy died, Kirk invited me to come and stay with them. We mourned her as a family, you see, and I figured I could help out around the apartment, take care of the kids—do what little I could to help out. But so Prunella moves in, and tells me they’re going to need my room,since she wants to expand her dresser. And so Kirk tells me I need to move out again. Only we already sold my apartment, so I’ve got nowhere to go. He tells me not to worry. We’ve got plenty of options and Prunella will take care of everything.”

“And so she found you this place,” said Gran.

“She found me this place,” said Ester. “As far away from my family as she could manage, in a town where I don’t know a single soul. But it’s a fine home, she tells me. The absolute best. And I’ll be so happy here, with all of these other sweet dears. And so I tell Kirk what gives? But he says it’s the best solution for all of us.”

“Best solution for Prunella,” said Scarlett.

“Exactly. Now if my son would come and visit from time to time, I might have been able to cope, but he doesn’t.”

“He doesn’t?”

“Nope. No time. And granted, he’s a busy guy, and it’s a long drive, and the kids…” She choked a little as she spoke these words.

“The kids don’t visit?” asked Gran.

Ester shook her head.“The kids don’t visit. I haven’t seen them even once. And it’s been two years now, give or take.”

“Two years and they haven’t visited you once?” said Scarlett, horrified.

“Kirk tells me they’re busy with school and friends and whatever. They’re teenagers now and they’ve got the social life of a CEO, apparently. Busier than Kirk himself. But he hasn’t been here in two years, and of Prunella there’s no trace. Though according to Kirk they’re still married.”

“She got you out of the way,” said Gran.

“That, she did. Quick and easy.”

“But why?” asked Scarlett. “I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I. I asked Kirk, but he says I’m seeing things. That Prunella doesn’t have anything against me. But she so does have something against me. Otherwise why put me in some place on the other side of the state?”

“Can’t you text your grandkids? Or call them?”

“Oh, I’ve tried, but they must have changed phones, cause I can’t get through. And when I ask Kirk to give me their new numbers he keeps telling me he will but then he never does. It’s as if all of a sudden I don’t exist anymore.”

“If you want we could give them a call,” Scarlett suggested. “Find out what’s going on.”

“Oh, could you? I’m at the end of my tether here. Just figured I need to accept and move on, you know. I mean, what else can you do when your family suddenly doesn’t want you anymore? Your own flesh and blood?” A tear had stolen from her eyes, and she wiped it away. “Anyway, here I am boring you with my sad stories, and I haven’t even asked you about those lovely cats of yours! Just look at them, listening so attentively. Almost as if they can actually understand what I’m saying!”

“Oh, but they can,” said Gran. But when Ester gave an incredulous laugh, she quickly amended her statement. “Just kidding! Of course they can’t actually understand us. But sometimes it’s almost as if they can.”

“Must be nice to have a pet,” said Ester as she eyed me with fondness. “I had a cat, you know, but Prunella decided to get rid of her. Said she was allergic to cats, so we couldn’t keep her.” Then, with a touch of bitterness, she added, “And then of course she discovered she was allergic to me, and got rid of me as well.” But then she brightened. “God, I’m doing a great job of spoiling your appetite, aren’t I? Eat up, you guys. And I’m going to shut up from now.”

“Such a sad story, isn’t it, Max?” said Dooley. “This poor woman was kicked out by her daughter-in-law. And her grandkids won’t even speak to her! It’s absolutely terrible.”

“Gran will talk to them,” Harriet assured us. “And she’ll make sure that Ester’s grandkids come and visit her again. She just has to.”

Which shows you how Ester’s story had touched all of our hearts, if even Harriet Bond had momentarily forgotten about her mission enough to get sucked into a secondary mission: how to reconcile Ester with her family.

“Why is it that daughters-in-law are always evil, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Not all daughters-in-law are evil,” I said. “Only some of them, like Prunella.”

Though to be honest we didn’t know anything about this Prunella person. Maybe she had a good reason to get rid of her motherin-law. Maybe Ester was a psychopath who terrorized every person she lived with. Though she didn’t look like a psychopath to me.

“I’m going to have to leave you for just a moment,” said Scarlett, getting up. “I’ll be back in a sec, though.” And before confiding in us what she was up to, she hurried off.

“Isaac again?” said Harriet.

We glanced over, and saw that Isaac was on breakfast duty, and indeed Scarlett now joined him and took him aside for a quick word.

“The love doctor at work again,” said Brutus with a grin. “Let’s hope she succeeds this time.”

18

Never let it be said that Scarlett didn’t seize an opportunity when she saw one. The moment she walked into the breakfast room she saw that Isaac was on breakfast duty. But it was only when Kirsten joined him in the room, assisting those residents who had trouble eating independently, that she knew she had to strike while the iron washot!

So when Kirsten disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, she quickly sidled up to her pupil.

“And? How is it going?” she asked. She was eyeing the serving dish of scrambled eggs with some relish. This job was going to wreak havoc on her figure if she didn’t watch out!

“Not well,” said Isaac sadly as he wiped an elderly resident’s chin. “I tried to talk to her, but for some reason she doesn’t seem interested. I think that smile last night might have turned her off.”

“It was a freaky smile,” said Scarlett.

“You told me to go big or go home!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell you to smile like a serial killer.” Though truth be told, she hadn’t known that Isaac’s smile would rival the one displayed by Hannibal Lecter in his cage. Which just goes to show: even nice guys can have terrible smiles. “It was probably nerves,” she said soothingly. “Give me a smile.”

Isaac flashed her a halfhearted smile. The kid was trying but you could tell that his heart wasn’t really in it.

“Less teeth.”

He dimmed the smile to reasonable proportions and she nodded approvingly.

“See? That’s not so bad. That’s how you should have smiled last night.”

“It’s all lost now,” said Isaac morosely. “She won’t talk to me. She won’t even look at me.”

“Okay, listen to me,” said Scarlett. “I know from a reliable source that Kirsten has her own problems to deal with right now. So the fact that she’s not very responsive probably has nothing to do with you. Just… act natural. Be upbeat. Make some friendly conversation. And… oh, here she comes. Remember what I said: act natural!”

Immediately Isaac cramped up, and there was that horrible smile again.

“Okay, forget what I said. Whatever you do: don’t smile!” she hissed.

His smile faltered, and was replaced by an expression of pure helplessness.

“Hey, Kirsten,” said Scarlett pleasantly. “Just thought I’d give young Isaac here a helping hand.”

“That’s very kind of you, Miss Corr,” said Kirsten. She was frowning, Scarlett saw, and glancing in Henry’s direction. The man was seated next to Bob, and was talking a mile a minute, with Bob not looking all that happy.

“Everything all right?” asked Scarlett.

“I’m worried about Henry,” said Kirsten. “He seems very restless lately. And he’s been badgering Bob about writing his memoirs.”

“Yeah, I heard about that,” said Scarlett, and gave Isaac a poke in the rear.

Isaac piped up,“You like Henry a lot, don’t you?”

“I think he’s a good man, if that’s what you mean.”

Isaac simpered a little.“Isn’t he, you know, a little old for you, though?”

Kirsten turned a frosty look on her young colleague.“What did you just say?”

“I mean… He’s not very young and you’re… not very old and… well, I just mean to say…”

“Yes?” she said, her voice dripping with ice.

“I guess I don’t… I mean I just… well, you know…”

“No, I don’t, Isaac,” said Kirsten. “So maybe from now on you’ll keep your opinions to yourself, all right? Here.” She handed him her apron. “I think you can handle breakfast by yourself. I’ll go and check on Henry.” And then she was off, making a beeline for the old man.

“Isaac!” Scarlett hissed. “Why did you have to go and say that!”

“But you told me to make friendly conversation!”

“Conversation, not accusing her of having an affair with a resident, you fool!”

Isaac’s mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish on dry land, then his shoulders slumped, and he said, “Oh, gosh darn it. I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Now that she finally talked to me, I put my foot in it, didn’t I?”

“You can say that again. Don’t you ever think before you speak?”

“Normally I do, but when Kirsten is around my mind sort of stops working.”

Scarlett thought quick.“Okay, we can fix this,” she said. “We can come back from this, no problem. Next time you meet, you apologize. You hear me? You apologize and you keep apologizing until you’re blue in the face.”

“Apologize until I’m blue in the face,” said Isaac, nodding. “Gotcha. I’ll apologize and apologize… What am I apologizing for, exactly?”

“For accusing her of having an affair with Henry, of course!”

“Is Kirsten having an affair with Henry? But he’s too old for her!” He looked genuinely upset, so Scarlett refrained from smacking him on the back of the head, even though the urge was powerful. Very powerful.

Oh, why did she ever have to take on this lost cause? And poor Kirsten, having to contend with one colleague who was a sex pest, another who was an idiot, and a boss who simply didn’t care!

19

In accordance with our mission brief, after breakfast Dooley and I were back at work, keeping an eye on Henry. The man was in his room, having a conversation with Desmond, of all people.

“So you keep telling everyone how rich you are,” the burly bully was saying. “But how rich is rich, Henry? I mean, are we talking millions or billions or what?”

“Who told you I’m rich?” asked Henry suspiciously.

“Everyone! You can’t blab about how much money you’ve got squirreled away for a rainy day and not expect people to talk, Henry, old pal,” said Desmond, clapping the old man on the back in an overly familiar gesture. “And hey, I’ve got news for you. That rainy day? It’s already here. So if you’re saving up for later, well, later has arrived, buddy!” He laughed at his own little joke, but Henry wasn’t partaking in the merriment. Instead he eyed the other man with a touch of froideur.

Desmond, even though he lacked basic human traits like sensitivity, empathy and kindness, nevertheless must have noticed that his conversational skills had failed to click, for he now said,“Just kidding, old buddy! Just having some fun!”

“I’m not rich,” said Henry. “And whoever told you I am, is pulling your leg.”

“Okay, all right. So you’re not rich. Though if you were—I mean, hypothetically speaking for a moment—how rich is rich, huh? How many zeros is what I’m trying to get at.”

“My financial situation is of no concern to you, Desmond. Now did you bring me my candy or didn’t you?”

“Sure thing,” said Desmond, and took out a couple of bars of chocolate from his pocket and handed them to the old man. “But don’t tell Brian, you hear? He won’t like it that I’m helping you break your diet like this. So hide them under your mattress, or wherever you hide your valuables,but don’t leave them lying around in plain sight.” He grinned. “So is that where you keep your gold? Under your mattress? Huh?”

“Very funny,” said Henry, accepting the bars of chocolate and handing the nurse twenty bucks. “Keep the change,” he said.

Clearly Desmond had expected more from a millionaire—perhaps even a billionaire—for he gave the money a sour look, then tucked the bill into his pocket.

“So a little birdie tells me you’ve been spending a lot of time with Kirsten,” he said, changing the topic of conversation. “So what is she like? Great gal, right?”

“Kirsten is all right,” said Henry guardedly.

“Oh, she’s better than all right, old buddy. Kirsten is hot!”

Henry drew himself up to his full height, which was still considerable in spite of his age.“I won’t have you talk about Kirsten like that!” he thundered.

“All right, all right!” said Desmond, holding up his hands in a peaceable gesture. “No need to shout. I’m just saying the girl is fine. Nice body, great conversation—and those eyes. Mamma mia, those eyes! The way she looks at you—whoo-wee!”

“I think you better leave now, Desmond,” said Henry, who looked tired all of a sudden.

“So does she have a boyfriend?” asked the nursing assistant, not taking the hint.

“I don’t see how Kirsten’s personal life is of any concern to you,” said Henry stiffly. “Now please leave.”

“Or are you the boyfriend? Huh? Buddy?” He gave Henry a dirty grin. “The way you talk about her makes me feel that the two of you are more than just friends.”

“Just go,” said Henry.

“All right, fine,” said Desmond, his mood souring quickly now that he didn’t get what he wanted. “Be that way. But you can’t ask a guy for a favor and not expect him to want a favor in return.”

“Just leave already.”

“All right, all right, I’m going. Jeez. But this is the last time I’m doing your shopping for you, you hear?” And as he left, we could hear him mutter, “Old fool.”

“He’s not very nice, is he, Desmond?” said Dooley.

“No, he’s a very disagreeable person,” I said. “And Henry seems to agree with that assessment.”

“The way he was talking about Kirsten just now? No respect, Max. No respect at all.”

“Well, by now I think we know what to expect from Desmond,” I said. “And the last thing is respect for women—Kirsten in particular.” Or any person, for that matter.

“Odd that Brian keeps him around, though, isn’t it? You would think that a guy like Desmond would have been let go from a job like this a long time ago.”

“Yeah, that is odd. Unless Brian is so preoccupied that he simply doesn’t care.”

But that part of the mission was Harriet and Brutus’s concern. When working as a spy in the field, one thing one learns is that there is a great degree of compartmentalization going on. The left paw doesn’t know what the right paw is doing and so on and so forth. Though in our case we did know what Harriet and Brutus were up to, and frankly I was happy that I wasn’t in their place!

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

“Oh, do we really have to?” said Brutus. After their last close encounter with Brian’s libido the last thing he wanted was to go for seconds, since the sequel promised to be even worse than the first installment—as per definition.

“Yes, we do,” said Harriet determinedly. She wasn’t really all that excited about their mission either, but they made a promise to Gran, and in her book a promise was still a promise, and no spy worth their salt has ever left their post, no matter how tough the going gets.

“But we know where those cameras have to go,” Brutus argued. “One behind his desk, one above his desk for that all-important bird’s eye view, and then another one from that bust in the corner—the one that reminded you of Kingman so much.”

Harriet smiled at the recollection. Brian did indeed have a large bust in his office, placed on top of a cabinet in the corner of his office. It probably depicted some important person, though she had no idea who, and did indeed remind her somewhat of Kingman.

“I think it’s Churchill,” said Brutus now, surprising her with his knowledge of history. “I googled it last night,” he explained.

“Okay, look, I know this is a tough assignment, but we have to see it through, snow pea. Or else we won’t be able to give Sara the satisfaction of getting full custody of her kids once this divorce goes through.”

“I know, I know,” said Brutus. “But darn it if this isn’t the worst assignment anyone ever got. Give me Max’s job any day over this one.”

She had to admit that at first their assignment had sounded a lot more important and interesting than Max’s, who simply had to watch some old dude being friendly to Kirsten. But now that things were getting serious, it was obvious that Max had picked the plum job, as usual.

They had arrived at their destination, and once again snuck into Dee’s office, hoping that the PA had left her window open. And as luck would have it, she had.

“Okay, but this is the absolute last time,” said Brutus. “If he’s in there doing the horizontal mambo again, I’m out of here. Even it’s the vertical mambo—I mean it.”

“Promised,” said Harriet. “If he’s up to his old tricks again, we’re gone.”

“Great,” said Brutus, though he didn’t look or sound all that great. And Harriet could feel his pain.

But when they arrived, they could immediately see that they had picked their moment: Brian was in there, wrapped in a passionate embrace with the same red-haired woman as the day before. Gladys Judder had already divested herself of a great proportion of her vestments and Brian himself was also partly in a state of undress.

“Okay, so let’s go over this quickly,” said Harriet. “One camera over there, one over there by Kingman’s bust.”

“Churchill’s bust,” said Brutus, trying hard not to look at the copulating couple.

“And then another one over there, in that little salon.” Cause she was fairly sure that Brian used the salon for more than just entertaining potential residents and their family. “And we should probably install a camera in Jane Judder’s room as well.”

“Agreed. Can we go now?” asked Brutus urgently.

“Yes, please!”

But even as they made to leave, suddenly next to them a familiar figure appeared, sneaking up to the window and peeking inside.

It was Dee Phillips, and when she saw Brian and Gladys getting down and dirty, she uttered a scream of such volubility it actually hurt Harriet’s eardrums!

The next moment pandemonium broke out, with Dee pounding on the window with both fists, screaming all the while, then giving it such a hard push that it flew open, and before long she was actually climbing into the office and tackling Gladys!

Brian, who clearly hadn’t expected this, for a moment just stood there staring at the two ladies, but then finally sprang into action, trying to stop one of his mistresses from murdering the other one.

The screaming had only intensified, and was now accompanied by Brian hollering at the top of his lungs for Dee to stop, and since Gladys had been lying on top of the desk when Dee came upon them, that desk now toppled over and crashed to the floor, along with plenty of files, a portrait of Brian and his family smiling at the photographer in a picture of the perfect family, and other knickknacks a retirement home general manager collects throughout his fifteen-year tenure. Even Churchill couldn’t take the strain, and leaped from his perch, almost landing on Brian’s foot!

The other door now swung open, and a bevy of residents appeared, amongst whom Harriet recognized Gran, Scarlett, Liz Murphy, Bob Sankiewicz and a good many others, all jostling to take a closer look at what sounded like a massacre.

“I think Brian is in trouble,” said Brutus dryly.

“Big trouble,” Harriet agreed.

20

Vesta had been on her way to check something on the bulletin board when the sounds of some kind of hullabaloo reached her ears. Along with what looked like the entire Happy Home population, she made her way in the direction of the source of the noise. It turned out to come from Brian’s office, and once someone had managed to open the door and take a look inside, she was of course in the first row, having a great view of the scene as it played out in front of her.

Brian was standing there in his underwear for some reason, and in front of him Dee and Gladys were pulling each other’s hair and rolling on the floor. A bust had fallen from a great height, or so it seemed, for it had made quite a dent in the nice parquet floor, and the desk had been overturned. Behind the wrestling duo and the general manager in a state of undress, Vesta could see Harriet and Brutus, looking back at her with surprise written all over their faces.

“What’s going on?” asked Liz, who had materialized next to her and who, judging from the way she was panting heavily, must have been running.

“I think it’s pretty obvious what’s going on,” said Vesta. “Dee and Gladys Judder are fighting for the dubious privilege of calling themselves Mrs. Brian Brooks.”

“Good God,” said Liz as she emitted a shocked chuckle. “Wait till I tell Bill. He’ll never believe me. When I told him that Brian was cheating on his wife not with one but two different women, he said I was delusional.”

“You’re not delusional, you’re psychic,” said Vesta. “How did you know?”

“Oh, everybody knows everything about everyone around here,” said Liz with a throwaway gesture of her hand. “Apart from bingo, gossip is our favorite way to pass the time.”

“And that murder club of yours, of course,” said Vesta, who hadn’t forgotten.

“So have you had time to think about it?” asked Liz. “It’s a lot of fun, let me tell you. And we always get our guy, since he’s already been caught.”

But before Vesta could respond, suddenly a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, and another heavy hand landed on Liz’s shoulder, and the both of them were escorted out of the office. When she looked up, it turned out that it wasn’t a vice they were caught in, but the hands of Desmond Palka.

“Out,” said the thickset nursing assistant. “And stay out.”

And to prove to them he wasn’t choosy who he picked on, he went back in there and managed to remove no less than two dozen residents from Dee and Brian’s office, and close the door in their faces. He then took up a position as sentinel, crossing a pair of burly arms in front of his chest, tilting his chin, and giving themthe no-nonsense look of a professional bouncer.

“Spoilsport,” said Liz as they started removing themselves from the scene. “Ever since we arrived here that man has given us nothing but grief.”

“But I get now why Brian doesn’t fire his ass,” said Vesta. “He’s very loyal, isn’t he?”

“Oh, he is. He would take a bullet for that man—though don’t ask me why. Brian doesn’t deserve it. He’s a horrible person.”

“Brian is a horrible person?”

“Oh, absolutely. He overcharges us, and puts the money in his own pocket.”

“He does, does he?”

“Of course. He’s making bank on what we are paying him, and only a small percentage of that money is spent on us, the people it’s supposed to be spent on!”

“But isn’t there some kind of inspection system that keeps an eye on places like these?”

“I’m sure if there is, he’s got them in his pocket,” Liz assured her.

This was the first inkling Vesta got about corruption in the highest circles of Happy Home, and it added to her good mood. Not only did they now have evidence of Brian’s adultery, but if they dug a little deeper, they might be able to prove the man’s corruption on top of everything else!

Not a bad morning’s work for this elderly spy!

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Harriet wasn’t happy. In fact it wasn’t too much to say she was very unhappy!

“Why didn’t you tell us you already planted those cameras!” she cried.

“I forgot,” said Gran. “With everything going on, it must have slipped my mind.”

“Do you realize we just had to watch Brian do… that—again! The trauma might never heal!”

“I know, I know. But you did good, Harriet. You and Brutus both.”

Harriet would have slammed the door on her way out, but unfortunately cats aren’t in a position to express their anger in this way. So instead she vowed to rip up Gran’s favorite blanket once she had the chance. Or maybe even her favorite dress!

Brutus, who’d come tripping after her, was also appalled. “James Bond probably never has to go through this,” he grumbled. “James Bond gets his instructions straight from the top, with never a breakdown in communication like the one we just saw.”

Apparently Gran and Scarlett had passed by Brian’s office, had seen Dee leave the door open when she went for her coffee break, and had decided then and there to plant those cameras. And then instead of warning their team, they had forgotten!

“That’s what you get when you work with amateurs,” Harriet raged. “But I’m not going to let this go. I’m going to complain to Odelia, and demand a better handler. More professional, you know. More on top of things! Spies like us deserve the best!”

“I’m not sure Odelia has much of a choice,” said Brutus. “Gran and Scarlett are probably the best she has.”

And even though Brutus was right, Harriet couldn’t help vent some more. But when all was said and done, she realized that this is what you got when you worked for a pair of granny spies: sometimes things simply got lost in translation!

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Dee was feeling heartbroken. Not only had Brian cheated on her, but he had also made a total fool of her. Though it hadn’t helped, of course, that she had attacked Gladys in front of half the residents who occupied Happy Home. Or at least that’s what it had looked like once she had been plucked from Gladys and placed in one corner, with Gladys being placed in another by that wannabe he-man Desmond.

God, she would have to resign now, wouldn’t she? Or be fired. She had actually attacked a client—the daughter of one of their residents. And all because of Brian.

She was checking out a scratch on her arm, while Brian was comforting Gladys in his office. The woman strode out now, looking thoroughly incensed. She took one long look at Dee, then clicked her tongue in dismay and walked out.

Next came Brian, and he looked a regular sight. His shirt was buttoned up the wrong way, his tie was crooked, and his fly was undone.

“I’m sorry, Dee,” he said.

“You promised me, Brian,” she said. “You said I was the only one for you and I believed you!”

“I know what I said, and I meant it. I still mean it. But what could I do? My hands were tied.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. “What are you talking about?”

“She jumped me, Dee! I know I should have fought her off, and I promise you I tried, but she’s a client, so I suddenly found myself in a very difficult position. You can see that, can’t you?”

“What I can see is that you and Gladys Judder were making out on your desk,” she said, sniffling a little. “And you weren’t putting up a fight, Brian. Quite the contrary.”

“Okay, look, she came into my office to talk about her mother, all right? And next thing I know, she suddenly jumped on top of me! I tried to tell her I wasn’t interested in her like that, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. So I finally decided just to give in, and then tell her that this was not the way I saw our relationship. And that from here on out things would have to be conducted in a strictly professional manner. I mean, I can’t go around having relations with my clients. That would open me up to all kinds of allegations of favoritism, corruption, not to mention stepping across very obvious boundaries of propriety…” He dragged a hand through his mussed-up hair. “I’m telling you, Dee, I felt trapped in there. Actually trapped. I didn’t know what to do. If I told her no, and pushed her away, she might end up ending Jane’s stay with us. Or worse, spreading all kinds of vicious lies about Happy Home—ruining us!”

“So what are you saying? She actually forced herself on you?”

“Yes! I’m telling you that’s exactly what she did!”

Dee was quiet for a moment. She wondered whether Brian was making things up. Trying to fob her off with some weird lie about being the victim, not the instigator.

“Look, I love you, Dee,” said Brian now, as he placed his hands on her shoulders. The man actually looked desperate. “There’s only one woman for me and that’s you. You know that. And no one will ever come between us.”

“You’re saying that now, but when Gladys comes back—”

“When Gladys comes back I’m going to tell her, in the most diplomatic way possible, that what happened in there just now must never happen again.”

“And you think she’ll accept that?”

“She will have to, because I won’t go through that ordeal again.” He directed a gentle smile at her. “In fact next time when she arrives, tell her I’m not in my office. Make up some excuse. Because I’m through with that woman. Absolutely done.”

Slightly mollified, she allowed him to take her into his arms, and press a tender kiss to her cheek.

“I was very upset when I saw you with her,” she said.

“I could tell from the way you attacked her!” he said laughingly.

She smiled, and he kissed away her final tear.

“I’m sorry about your office. I wrecked it, didn’t I?”

“I deserve it,” he said fervently. “I hurt you, Dee, and I deserve everything you can throw at me. But I’m going to make it up to you, I promise. Sara and I are done. I’m going to talk to her about a divorce.”

Dee’s eyes lit up. “You will?”

“Absolutely. After what happened just now, I realize I came this close to losing you. And so I’m going to make it official. I’m divorcing Sara and I’m marrying you.”

“Oh, Brian!” she cried, and threw her arms around his neck and covered his face with kisses. “This is the best day of my life,” she whispered.

Which just goes to show how close heaven and hell can actually be!

21

Dooley and I were in the room with Bob when his daughter Sharon dropped by for a visit. Contrary to Ester Teasle, Sharon was in there all the time, sometimes daily.

“She’s a great gal,” said Dooley. “One day when Gran is in here for real, Marge will have to come by all the time also, and Odelia, and maybe by then also Grace.”

“I don’t think Gran will ever actually be in here as an actual resident,” I said.

“She won’t?”

“Oh, no. You know how she feels about retirement homes. She won’t be seen dead in one of these places.”

“But she’s in here now, isn’t she? And she’s not dead yet.”

“Yeah, but only because Odelia asked her to, and for a limited time. She wouldn’t want to become an actual resident here.”

“Oh, goodie,” said Dooley. “Cause me being Gran’s pet, I figured I’d have to move in here with her one day, and then I wouldn’t see you so much anymore, Max. And that would make me very sad.”

“You’ll see me all the time, Dooley,” I said, “cause there’s no way that Gran will ever move out of Marge and Tex’s house.” Unless Tex kicked her out, of course. But Marge wouldn’t allow that. She’d rather kick Tex out than her own mother.

“So how is Pete?” asked Bob now, as Sharon placed some snacks on the table. “When are you two finally going to tie the knot?”

Sharon hesitated for a moment before answering. She was a dark-haired good-looking woman in her late forties, and was dressed in a nice suit. I thought Bob had told Gran that she worked as an accountant in Hampton Cove.

“There won’t be a wedding, Dad,” she said now.

Bob sat up a little straighter, clearly surprised.“What do you mean there won’t be a wedding? What are you talking about?”

“Pete and I split up,” said Sharon quietly.

“Split up? But why? I thought things were going great between you?”

“Things were great for a while, until they weren’t,” said Sharon with a shrug. “It happens, Dad. Not everyone can have what you and Mom had. And the older I get the more I’m starting to think that kind of happiness is simply not in the cards for me.”

“But… but how? Did you guys have a fight?”

“It’s not important,” said Sharon with a weak smile. “I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t want to upset you, especially after you had that health scare.”

“I’m fine,” Bob assured her. “It’s you I’m worried about. When did this happen?”

“A couple of weeks back.”

“So he moved out, did he?”

“He never moved in,” said Sharon. “That’s one of the things we argued about.” She turned to him and placed an arm around his shoulder. “Actually I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Would you consider moving back in, now that Pete and I are done? I mean, I know the main reasonyou came to Happy Home is that you didn’t want to be in the way. But now that Pete is gone, there’s no reason for you not to move back. You can have your old room back,” she said with a smile. “I haven’t changed anything and it’s still exactly the way it was when you moved out.”

“I would love to move in again, honey, but frankly I’m too old and too tired to go through that whole thing again,” he said, though he didn’t look at her when he said it, which made me think there was something else going on here.

“But… are you happy here, Dad? Happier than when you were living with me?”

“Of course I’m happy here. Absolutely,” said Bob, but his words lacked the ring of true conviction. I think Sharon must have heard it, too, for she gave him a curious look, then looked away.

“Okay, I believe you. But I still want you to think about what I said, all right? If you want to move back in, just say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

“That’s very sweet of you, honey, but I’m fine here. I’ve made plenty of wonderful friends, and I even met a guy who wants me to write his autobiography for him.”

“Hey, that’s great, Dad,” she said. “I always knew you’d start writing again one day. What’s his name?”

“Henry Kaur, and he’s led a very fascinating and adventurous life, so we’re going to have a ball, him and me, as we start to work on these memoirs of his.”

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that,” said Sharon, and I could tell that she meant it. “Okay,” she said, lightly slapping her thighs. “If you’re happy, then I guess I’m happy, too.”

“I’m absolutely happy,” he repeated. “Me coming here was the absolute best decision we could have made. One hundred percent.”

“He doesn’t sound convinced, Max,” said Dooley.

“No, I have a feeling he’s not as happy as he’s making out to be,” I said.

“But then why isn’t he moving back in with his daughter?”

“I have no idea,” I said.

“And he told her he’s going to work on Henry’s autobiography, when he told Henry he doesn’t want to do that. That he stopped writing since he has trouble with his eyes and hands.”

“I’m sure we’ll find out what’s going on sooner or later,” I said, and had to admit I was intrigued by Bob’s obvious lies.

It was of course possible that he simply didn’t want to burden his daughter, but judging from what Sharon had said, he wouldn’t be a burden at all, and she would love to have him back.

After Sharon had left, Bob sat in his armchair gazing out the window. Then suddenly he thumped the armrests of his chair and cursed.

No, he definitely wasn’t as happy as he said he was.

22

Vesta popped her head in.“Everything all right with Sharon, Bob?”

“Not exactly,” Bob said. She noticed he looked thoughtful. “She just told me that she and Pete broke up. No wedding bells are going to ring out, she said.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine? After I moved out to give them some space, now she’s gone and broken up with the guy. I don’t get it. They were perfect for each other, anyone could see that.”

“Why did they break up, did she say?” she asked as she ventured deeper into the room.

“No, she didn’t. And I didn’t want to pry. I just don’t get it,” he repeated, and looked thoroughly upset.

“Do you have Pete’s number? Maybe you could call him? Is it just some lovers’ tiff or something more serious?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t want to get involved in their private affairs.”

“So what are you going to do? Move back in with her?”

“I can’t do that,” he said. “Not after I moved here and got settled in and all. And then maybe in a couple of years I might have to move out again.” He glanced up at her. “You know how hard it is to get a spot in this place. I got lucky, but there are people who’ve been on that waiting list for years.”

Vesta wondered how Sara had managed to get Scarlett and herself in, but figured she probably had a lot of pull with her husband and got them catapulted to the top of the list. At least they wouldn’t be in there long, and the next person on the list wouldn’t have to wait long before their spot became available.

“I still think you should talk to Pete,” she said. “You don’t even have to bring up Sharon, you know. From what I understood you and he had a great connection, and you could just ask him how he’s been and all.”

“Yeah, I might do that,” he said, though she had the feeling he said it just to get rid of her.

So she took her leave, and wondered where Max and Dooley were. She could have sworn she saw them sneak into Bob’s room earlier. She chuckled. Those cats really were the perfect spies. In and out of these rooms, spying on the residents, and no one had a clue.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

“He must be very rich,” said Dooley.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I mean, he’s a nursing assistant, Dooley, and I don’t think they actually pay these people the big bucks.”

“But look at his car!” Brutus said, his eyes wide and gleaming. “That fancy ride must have cost him a small fortune!”

Brutus was right. The bright yellow sports car Desmond was polishing in the parking lot looked like it might have set him back a bundle. And all that on a nursing assistant’s salary. It seemed inconceivable.

“He takes good care of it,” said Harriet. “Look at him scrubbing off that spot on the hood.”

Desmond was leaning over the hood, practically fondling his vehicle, making sure that every last inch of the paint looked shiny and new.

“You never see women fuss over their cars,” said Dooley. “Only men.”

“That’s because men have a lasting love affair with their cars,” said Brutus.

“Men love their cars?” asked Dooley. “But why? They’re just inanimate objects designed to take you from point A to point B.”

“Don’t let Desmond hear you say that,” warned Harriet. “For a man like him that car is nothing more or less than the love of his life.”

“I thought Kirsten was the love of his life?”

“I think when it comes to choosing between his car and a woman, Desmond’s car takes prevalence,” said Brutus. “And that might be said about a lot of men.”

“Unfortunately,” Harriet added with a touch of pique.

“Look, there’s Kirsten now,” said Dooley.

We watched as the young nursing assistant now came walking up, fresh from some errand. Desmond had also spotted her, for he yelled,“Wanna go for a ride, babe?”

“I’m not your babe,” Kirsten replied, “and I most certainly do not want to go for a ride with you, Desmond.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” said Desmond with a grin. He was leaning against the hood of his car, trying to look like a big macho man. “You know you want to.”

“No, I definitely don’t want to. In fact the further I can get away from you, the better.”

“I heard you complained to the big boss about me? How did that work out for you?”

But instead of replying, Kirsten simply tossed her blond hair over her shoulder and kept on walking.

“You should reconsider, you know,” he yelled after her. “Think about your future.”

“You have no future, Desmond,” she said.

“That’s what you think. I’m going to come into a great deal of money soon, and I’ll be able to give you everything you need, babe.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, and walked into the building.

She sailed right past us, and I could see that this confrontation with Desmond, even though she pretended not to be touched by the meeting, had greatly upset her.

“That man really needs to stop harassing her,” said Harriet. “Isn’t there something we can do? Like use our claws on him or something?” She had unsheathed a very sharp claw and was extending and retracting it, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“Or we could take our claws to Desmond’s car,” Dooley suggested. “I’ll bet he won’t like that.”

“Hey, don’t touch the car!” said Brutus, appalled that Dooley would even dare to suggest such a horrendous course of action. “Whatever Desmond did, let’s not take it out on that poor car.”

“Looks like Brutus also likes cars,” Dooley whispered to me.

“I heard that,” said Brutus. “And so what if I like cars? They’re wonderful machines. And if I were in charge, I’d urge our family to upgrade their car park. Every time I get into that old jalopy Odelia drives, I feel embarrassed to be seen with her.”

“It’s a great car,” said Dooley defensively. “And it’s cheap.”

“Odelia is cheap for not trading it in for a fancier model,” Brutus countered. Clearly he was no big fan of our human’s dinged-up old pickup.

“Let’s talk about Desmond, and forget about Odelia’s car for a moment, shall we?” Harriet suggested. “We came here to protect Kirsten from Henry, but instead now it looks as if we need to protect her from Desmond instead. So maybe we should propose a change of plan to Gran, and spy on Desmond.”

“I don’t know if Desmond is much of an actual threat to Kirsten,” I said. “He’s a bully and an idiot, but I don’t think he’s dangerous. Whereas Henry seems to have a definite plan in mind for Kirsten, and as long as we don’t know what that plan entails, we need to stay vigilant.”

“Agreed,” Brutus said curtly. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from Desmond’s vehicle, though. The nursing aide now entered the building, and as he passed, he made as if to give us a kick, then laughed as we flinched, and walked on.

“He’s a terrible person,” said Harriet.

“Did you see his watch?” Brutus said. “That thing must be worth over a hundred grand.”

“One hundred thousand for a watch?” said Dooley. “How is that even possible?”

“How can he afford such an expensive watch and such an expensive car is what we should be asking ourselves,” said Harriet.

She was right. There was definitely something fishy about Desmond. So maybe we should expand our brief, and keep an eye on him as well. Not because of the threat he posed to Kirsten, which I thought was probably non-existent, but to find out what the guy was up to.

“Happy Home is not such a happy home after all,” said Dooley, summing things up. “It’s full of crooks and cheaters and dangerous people who are up to all kinds of no good!”

23

As we stood there, next to the entrance to the building, suddenly there was a sort of commotion behind us. And when we turned, we saw that Kate Doyle was coming our way, a pep in her step and a determined look on her face.

“I’m late!” she declared to all who would listen, which was only the four of us, actually. “I’m late for school! And if I don’t get there in time, Principal Martens will be furious, and my darlings will be sad!”

“Poor woman,” said Dooley. “Always late for school.”

“I think Mrs. Doyle isn’t right in the head,” said Brutus, putting it a little crudely, I thought. “She probably used to be a teacher, and now she thinks she still is, even though she retired years ago.”

“Yeah, Gran told me that Liz had told her that Kate Doyle was an excellent teacher for a great many years,” said Harriet. “She retired twenty years ago, but she seems to have forgotten. She’s been very confused lately.”

Mrs. Doyle had reached the door and was about to make a final escape to freedom. Only the door was locked, and no matter how much she pulled, it didn’t budge.

“I’m late for school!” she repeated, getting more and more worked up. “The kids—I need to get there before my kids!”

Desmond must have heard the noise, for he came hurrying to.“Now, now, Mrs. Doyle,” he said, his voice as smooth as silk all of a sudden. “There is no school today, don’t you remember? It’s a holiday.”

“It is?” she said, looking thoroughly discombobulated. “Why didn’t anybody tell me? Principal Martens should have told me.”

“Well, I’m telling you now,” said Desmond. “So let’s get you back to your room, shall we?”

After a final longing glance at the parking lot, Mrs. Doyle allowed Desmond to escort her back to her room.

“I could have sworn it was a school day,” she muttered.

“Don’t you think I’d tell you?” said Desmond. “Trust me, Mrs. Doyle. When it’s time for you to go to school, I’ll tell you, all right?”

“I guess so,” she said dubiously.

“Poor woman,” said Harriet.

“Poor children,” said Dooley. “They won’t get their favorite teacher to teach them today.”

“Didn’t you listen to the man?” said Brutus with a grin. “It’s a holiday, Dooley!”

“I don’t trust Desmond,” said Dooley. “He’s not a nice person.”

“He seemed nice enough with Mrs. Doyle,” I said. He might be a bully and a sex pest, but at least he seemed to be good at his job.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

The big moment had finally arrived: we were going to retrieve the camera equipment from Brian’s office, and deliver the footage to Odelia, so she could give it to Sara. And that would put to bed the first part of our mission.

Gran and Scarlett had sent us out into the corridor to check if the coast was clear—we didn’t want to run into Desmond or, God forbid, Brian himself—and when we returned to sound the all-clear, the two women ventured out, the four of us in their wake.

“Why do we need that footage?” asked Dooley. “Don’t we have plenty of witnesses who saw what Brian did?”

“Those witnesses consist of a few residents, four cats, and Gran and Desmond,” I said. “A good lawyer won’t have any trouble getting them disqualified or their testimony declared inadmissible. But hard evidence as captured on film is a lot harder to get thrown out. Which is why we need thatfootage.”

“I see,” said Dooley, but I had the impression that he didn’t.

We arrived at the door to Dee’s office, behind which lay Brian’s inner sanctum, and Gran felt the door handle. “Locked,” she said. “As was to be expected.”

She took out a small leather wallet, unzipped it, and showed us its contents.

“What’s that, Gran?” asked Dooley.

“What do you think it is? Lock-picking tools, of course! Got them off the internet.”

“And do you know how to use them?” asked Harriet.

“Of course I do. Watched a YouTube video once, and then practiced a lot.”

“I hope this time you’ll know how to work this stuff,” said Scarlett impatiently.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” said Gran as she stuck a long sharp instrument into the lock, and jiggled it around a bit.

Nothing happened.

She jiggled some more, but still no dice.

“Maybe we should try a credit card,” Scarlett suggested.

“You want to buy your way in?” asked Gran. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this door doesn’t take credit cards!”

“Just slide it along like this,” said Scarlett, as she inserted a credit card into the opening between the door jamb and the door. “And that should do the trick.”

But her method didn’t work either.

“Darn it. She must have locked the door,” said Scarlett. “My credit card method won’t work if she locked it.”

“Of course she locked it. What did you think?” said Gran. “No, I’ve got this. Just you wait and see. The guy on YouTube had it open in seconds.”

She jiggled some more, but I think at this point we’d already lost our faith in Gran’s lock-picking abilities and had started looking for another way in.

“Maybe we could try the next door, and then see if they left a window open,” Harriet suggested.

And so that’s what we did. Or at least we would have, if we’d received some cooperation from our humans. But Gran was so fixated on this particular door that she ignored all other possibilities. Tunnel vision, I think this is commonly called.

And since she was so busy fiddling with her tools, she didn’t even notice that Brian was standing behind her until he cleared his throat.

“And what do you think you’re doing, Mrs. Corr?” he asked.

Gran jumped about a foot into the air, and so did Scarlett, and they both turned a pair of faces with guilt written all over them to the general manager.

“We locked ourselves out of our room,” said Scarlett, thinking on her feet.

“Yeah, so we figured we’d try and pick the lock,” Gran added, also thinking quickly.

“But this isn’t your room,” said Brian. “This is my office.”

Both ladies slowly turned to take in the door, on which a sign had been attached that read,‘Brian Brooks - General Manager.’

“Oh, gosh darn it,” said Gran. “I didn’t see that. Did you see that, Jeannine?”

“No, I didn’t see that, Jamelle.”

“I thought your names were Janette and Janelle?” said Brian.

“Of course they are,” said Gran. “My name is Janelle and my sister’s name is Janette.” She thunked her head lightly. “Silly me. I guess I get confused sometimes.”

“Yeah, I also get confused sometimes,” Scarlett added. “Must be because I’m old.”

Brian produced a kindly smile.“That’s all right. We all get confused from time to time. Do you want me to escort you to your room, ladies?”

“No, that’s all right,” said Gran. “I think we can find it, can’t we, Janette?”

“Absolutely,” said Scarlett.

“But how will you get in without your key?” asked the director, eyeing the leather lock-picking wallet with keen interest.

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” said Gran.

“If not…”

“No, we’re fine,” said Scarlett. “Thank you, Mr. Brooks.”

“Brian, please. Here at Happy Home we’re all on a first-name basis.” And after giving them a friendly nod, he used his key to enter his office, and we all stood there looking a little stunned, to be honest.

“We should have invited ourselves in!” Gran said. “Then you could have distracted him and I could have grabbed those cameras!”

“Oh, shoot!” said Scarlett. They both glanced at the closed door. “Maybe we still can?”

“It’s too late now,” said Gran. “He’ll think we’re nuts.”

“That might work in our favor. If Brian thinks we’re nuts, we might be able to get away with it. Just like we just got away with trying to break into his office!”

A slow smile spread across Gran’s face. “I think you just may have a point… Janette!”

“Why thank you, Janelle!”

24

Brian stared at us blankly.“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Scarlett. “But is this the way to the station?”

The director didn’t even flinch. Long association with the addle-brained and feeble-minded had hardened the man. “Unfortunately not, Miss Corr,” he said. “Where were you thinking of going at this time of night?”

“Night? But it’s only two o’clock in the afternoon!”

While Scarlett was entertaining the man, Gran and the rest of us snuck into Dee’s office, then straight into Brian’s inner office, where she began collecting the cameras. There was some haste required, for Scarlett might be able to stall the man for a few moments, but at some point his patience would wear out, and he’d send her on her way—to the station or elsewhere.

But Gran was quick on her feet, and had already collected three cameras when she was making for the door.

“Gran—the one next to the bust!” Harriet whispered.

“Oh, right!” said Gran, and collected that one as well. “Thanks, Harriet!”

“There’s no bust in team!” said Harriet happily.

And then we were out of there, our precious haul safely inside Gran’s pocket, and as we tiptoed past Brian, Scarlett was just saying, “I think you’re quite mistaken, sir. Cleveland is lovely this time of year.” When she saw Gran, she quickly added, “Though you’re probably right that New York isn’t so bad either. Well, goodbye, sir. I hope we’ll meet again soon!”

Brian didn’t seem to share this particular sentiment, as he stood eyeing us with a touch of distaste, before finally entering his office and carefully closing the door.

“And?” asked Scarlett. “Did you get them?”

“All of them!” Gran said proudly as she patted her pocket. “We’re finally in business, baby!”

Unfortunately as we soon discovered, we weren’t in business yet.

“But… There’s nothing on these!” Gran cried once she’d attached one of the cameras to her laptop. They were of the USB variety, and were supposed to be plug and play. “See?”

“There’s nothing to see,” Scarlett said.

“That’s what I mean. Nothing!”

Scarlett, who was as computer illiterate as her friend, shook her head sadly.“I’m afraid I can’t help you, hon. Computers and me, we simply don’t get along.” But then she got an idea. “Why don’t I call Kevin?”

Kevin is Scarlett’s great-nephew, and has helped us out with many a project, mainly when they are IT-related. You see, Kevin is what they call a computer whiz. He doesn’t actually whiz—mostly he stays in one place: behind his computer monitor, glued to his chair. But he does know an awful lot about computers.He calls himself an ethical hacker, whatever that might be, and it was clear that we were in need of his particular set of skills right now.

Kevin, who never seems to sleep, came by on his scooter, and climbed into the room through what we were starting to view as the official entrance: the window.

“So what’s the problem?” he asked as he parked his long limbs on the small couch and gratefully accepted the laptop and put it on top of his lap.

“Those cameras—there’s nothing on them!” said Gran, repeating her now well-known mantra.

“That’s because you need to turn them on,” said Kevin.

“Okay, so turn them on,” Scarlett suggested. “And then let’s watch the footage.”

“There is no footage because you didn’t turn them on before you planted them,” Kevin explained, with the kind of patience I thought was admirable. “First you turn them on, then you plant them, then you watch the footage. It’s not rocket science, Auntie Scarlett.”

“Auntie Scarlett,” Harriet said with a laugh. “Funny.”

“She doesn’t look like an auntie,” Brutus agreed.

“We’re all somebody’s auntie,” I said, feeling the philosopher in me raise his head.

Harriet and Brutus regarded me curiously.“So whose auntie are you, Maxie baby?” asked Brutus.

Okay, so I should have seen that coming.

Back in the corner with the adults, Kevin was patiently explaining how these cameras worked. And when all was said and done, the upshot was that nothing of what had transpired in Brian’s office had been registered on any of these devices!

25

I came out of our litter box—the litter box the four of us now shared—and after what I found there I admit I wasn’t in a good mood. So I told Dooley I was going on strike.

“On strike? What do you mean, on strike?”

“It means I’m not moving another paw until my demands have been met.”

“What demands?”

“Fresh litter in my litter box! Proper litter procedure at all times! And no more smelly surprises, thank you very much!”

“You don’t have to yell, Max,” said Dooley, rubbing his ears. “I can hear you just fine.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, realizing my faux-pas. “It’s not you I should be yelling at.” But because of a distinct absence of the people I should be yelling at, I’d directed my ire at Dooley. “For which I apologize,” I repeated.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I did notice our litter box is a little smellier than usual, but I figured it’s only for the time being. Until we wrap up this mission and go home.”

“You’re probably right,” I said with a sigh. “Maybe I shouldn’t be so touchy about these things. It’s just that when you’re used to having things a certain way, and then all of a sudden they’re not, it irks me, you know. Really rubs me the wrong way.”

“I hear you, Max,” said my friend with a sympathetic smile. “It’s not nice having to go in a litter box where others have gone before you. Like Odelia going to the bathroom and complaining that Chase left the toilet seat up. It’s not easy having to live together, is it? Especially when the others don’t follow the rules.”

“Exactly!” I said. “Thank you, Dooley!”

“You’re welcome, Max. Sometimes all we need is a listening ear. Someone to listen to our gripes. It makes you feel better already, doesn’t it?” He cocked his head.

“It does. It really does. Though this doesn’t mean I’m giving up my strike.”

“Oh, of course not. Strike all you want, Max. In fact maybe I’ll join you. I’ve never been on a strike before. I think it’ll be a lot of fun.”

And so we went on strike together. Though since we were all alone in the room, there really wasn’t much of a point. But then sometimes you have to stand on a principle, even if it doesn’t seem to make any sense!

And just when we’d discussed strategy—Dooley was going to announce our strike to Gran while I was going to try and have another word with Brutus, whom I had identified as the main culprit of my litter box surprise—the door flew open and Kate Doyle walked in, moved over to one of the two beds—Gran’s bed in this case—and lay down and closed her eyes. She let out a little sigh and promptly fell asleep!

“Why is Mrs. Doyle sleeping in Gran’s bed?” asked Dooley after a moment.

“I have absolutely no idea,” I said.

It didn’t take long for Gran and Scarlett and our two feline friends to return. But before I could warn them that we had a visitor, Mrs. Doyle’s eyes flew open and fixed on Gran.

“Intruder!” she screamed, and got up from the bed with such alacrity it took us all by surprise. She then fastened her hands around Gran’s throat and started to squeeze!

“Intruder!” she repeated. “This is my room!” And to show us she meant business, she squeezed even harder.

Scarlett, who’d been too shocked to respond at first, now sprang into action. She first tried to prize Mrs. Doyle’s hands from her friend’s throat, but the woman proved surprisingly tenacious and almost supernaturally strong. So when this strategy failed to yield results, she tried to place her arm aroundMrs. Doyle’s neck and bodily drag her away from Gran, whose face was starting to turn a ripe purple now!

But Kate Doyle must have been a wrestler in a previous life, or maybe a tax collector, for she simply would not let go!

Finally, and since cats are more attached to their humans than most people give us credit for, the four of us decided to intervene, lest we would find ourselves sans Gran!

So as one cat we jumped on the woman, and started climbing her like a tree.

And that finally proved the panacea we had been looking for. Immediately when she felt those tiny little pinpricks, she let go of her quarry, and tried to shake us off.

“Demons!” she cried. “You little demons!”

Clearly she wasn’t used to acupuncture, and didn’t enjoy the treatment, for she started whirling around like a whirligig, and even though we tried to hang on, soon we were all relegated to the floor, where we recovered from this most trying ordeal.

Scarlett once more placed her arm around the woman’s neck, and Gran, who was recovering quickly, punched that panic button Isaac had told us about the first day.

It didn’t take long for Desmond to come running, and when he surveilled the scene, to his credit he immediately grasped what was going on, and acted with decision. Taking Mrs. Doyle by the arm, he physically removed her from the scene, and when he returned moments later, announced that he had locked herup in her room and had called the doctor.

“She tried to kill me!” Gran cried, touching her throat. “Actually tried to kill me!”

“She kept yelling ‘Intruder,’” Scarlett explained.

“She must have walked into the wrong room, thinking it was hers,” said Desmond, “and then when she saw you, thought you were an intruder, and tried to fight you off.” He shook his head. “It’s happened before. Not with Mrs. Doyle, but with another resident a few years back.”

“So what happened to the other resident?” asked Scarlett.

“He couldn’t stay here after that, and so he was transferred to a specialized institution. And I think the same thing will happen to Mrs. Doyle, I’m afraid. We’ve kept her here for as long as we could, mostly because her family asked us to, but after this it doesn’t seem safe or reasonable to keep her here.” His phone chimed, and he said, “The doctor is here. Excuse me for a moment, will you?” He walked into the corridor, speaking into his phone. Then he popped his head in again. “I’ll ask him to take a look at your throat in a minute, all right? Just hang in there, Janelle.”

“Thanks,” Gran croaked. “What a day,” she whispered. “First this whole Brian business, then that camera fiasco, and now a murder attempt!”

“It wasn’t really a murder attempt,” said Scarlett. “The woman was simply confused.”

“Confused or not, she tried to kill me!”

“Oh, and Gran?” said Dooley, amid all this hubbub and commotion. “Max and I have something very important to tell you.”

“Not now, Dooley,” I hastened to say.

“We’re on strike,” said Dooley happily. “And we have certain demands. And if they’re not met, we’re going to stay on strike until they are. Met, I mean.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Gran.

“We have a list of demands,” Dooley reiterated, “and all of them are about litter.”

“Litter!” Gran cried. “I’ve just been the victim of a violent attack and you want to talk about litter!”

“Litter is important,” said Dooley. “In fact it’s probably more important than food.” He thought about this for a moment. “Okay, so maybe not.”

“Whatever you gotta tell me, can’t it wait until tomorrow?” asked Gran, who was clearly in some degree of pain. “Only I think she might have broken something.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” said Scarlett. “Oh, look. The doctor is here now.”

A man with a black doctor’s bag walked in, looking very much like a doctor. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked, and I had to say that his bedside manner was perfect. I think we all felt better simply because of his mere presence in the room.

“It’s my throat, doctor,” said Gran. “She grabbed me by the throat and kept squeezing until I almost passed out.”

“Let’s take a look, shall we?” said the doctor, and then he did just that.

“I’m going to get back to our list of demands as soon as the doctor leaves, Max,” Dooley assured me. “One way or another this litter problem is going to be solved.”

“Perhaps not now, Dooley,” I said. “I think Gran isn’t in the mood to listen to our list of demands.”

“What’s all this about a strike?” asked Harriet.

“Max is sick and tired of having to do his business in a dirty litter box,” said Dooley. “And so he wants proper litter box procedure established and he wants all of us to follow this procedure to the letter. Isn’t that right, Max? To the litter letter.”

“And what is proper litter box procedure, according to King Max?” asked Brutus.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Brutus,” I said. “It’s only natural to want a nice, clean litter box, don’t you think?”

“What I think is that you’re being overly critical again, Max,” said Brutus. “And that you’re calling me unhygienic and smelly.”

“No, of course not! You’re not unhygienic and you’re not smelly at all!”

“But your doo-doo is smelly,” said Dooley. “And because you refuse to bury it, it stinks up the whole room, and makes it impossible for the rest of us to go potty without feeling nauseous. And that’s you being very selfish, Brutus.”

A hush momentarily descended upon the room. I don’t think anyone had ever spoken to Brutus this way, and we waited with bated breath for how he would respond.

But when he finally did, his response surprised us even more.

“You’re absolutely right, Dooley,” he said. “I have been selfish by not burying my doo-doo and making the rest of you have to smell my smells. I promise to do better from now on, how about that?”

“That would be great,” said Dooley. “And if you could bury your wee-wee, too, that would be even better. Cause wee-wee may not smell as bad as doo-doo but it still smells, and it’s not okay.”

“No, I know it’s not okay,” said Brutus with a lopsided grin. “And it won’t happen again.” And then he actually gave me a wink!

“Okay, I guess that settles the matter,” I said. “So, um… thank you, Brutus. And thank you, Dooley, for bringing this matter to our attention, and doing it in such an eloquent way.”

“Yeah, Dooley certainly has a way with words,” said Harriet. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Dooley.”

“It’s the strike,” said Dooley. “It’s important to voice your demands very firmly and very clearly. And when you do, it’s a lot easier to open negotiations.”

“And where did you learn so much about strikes?” I asked, much surprised.

“The Discovery Channel,” said Dooley. “There was this documentary last week, about the dynamics of the strike. It was very interesting. And even though they were striking about fishing rights, and I’m not actually a fish—or a fisher—I still learned a lot.”

Dooley never ceases to amaze me, and more often than not in a good way!

And now if Brutus could be induced to keep to his promise…

26

The next morning we woke up to some kind of commotion or hubbub in the corridor. First there was a loud scream, followed by loud voices conducting a frenzied sort of conversation. And so of course we snuck out and decided to go investigate. The to-do seemed to center around Henry’s room, where a lot of people stood gathered, talking amongst themselves. And when we saw the doctor walk out of the room and shake his head, I think we had a pretty good idea of what must have happened.

Brian was there, of course, and also Isaac and Desmond, and as we watched, Kirsten left Henry’s room, sobbing uncontrollably.

Desmond immediately stepped forward, but she slapped his helping hand away. Isaac then stepped up and said,“Leave her alone, Desmond.”

“Back off, Isaac!” the big man growled.

“You back off, and leave Kirsten alone,” Isaac returned.

For a moment it looked as if Desmond might raise a hand in anger against his colleague, but he finally thought better of it and left.

The fact that they were being watched by half the residents of the home might have had something to do with that, of course.

“Thank you,” said Kirsten gratefully. “I’m not in the mood for Desmond’s nonsense right now.”

Isaac handed her a tissue, and placed a protective arm around her shoulder, and she actually let him!

“Now will you look at that,” said Harriet. “Progress!”

Scarlett and Gran, both still in their PJs and Scarlett without her usual extensive makeup, had joined the throng, and Gran asked,“What’s going on?”

Liz, who was there with her husband and her sister, shook her head sadly.“It’s Henry. He’s dead.”

“How did he die?” asked Gran immediately, and presumably out of habit.

“They’re saying he died in his sleep,” said Liz. “But I don’t buy it. I saw him yesterday, and he looked as healthy as an ox. Healthier, probably.” She lowered her voice and glanced left and right before saying, “I think he was murdered!”

“I think so, too,” her sister chimed in.

“We’re going to investigate,” Bill announced.

“Wanna join us?” asked Liz eagerly. “This is going to be a big investigation. Our biggest one to date, probably, and so we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“I’m not sure,” said Gran, wavering.

“Oh, look who’s here!” said Harriet.

We all looked in the direction she was pointing, and we saw to our surprise how Odelia and Chase came walking down the corridor.

“Of course,” said Brutus. “They have to investigate Henry’s death.”

“So this is an official police investigation now, is it?” asked Harriet.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “They have to ascertain whether Henry’s death was accidental or natural causes or not. If he did die in his sleep, it’s simply a formality.”

“And who’s to say it wasn’t murder?” asked Brutus.

“Why, the doctor, of course,” I said.

“I like this doctor,” said Dooley. “He was very kind to Gran last night when that crazy woman tried to strangle her.”

“Yeah, but what if he says it was natural causes, and he’s wrong?” asked Harriet.

And since cats can’t keep from poking their noses in other people’s business, we ventured into Henry’s room when no one was looking, and found that Henry was lying on his bed, and it looked as if he was fast asleep.

“He looks like he’s sleeping,” said Dooley. “Are you sure he’s dead?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I think the doctor is.”

“And he should know,” said Harriet.

“Poor guy,” said Brutus.

“He said he was a rich guy,” Dooley reminded us. “And he was going to make Kirsten rich also.”

“He’s not going to do anything anymore,” I said. “And with him gone, this looks like the end of our mission, you guys.”

Odelia and Chase had entered the room, and bent over Henry to study the man. Odelia then glanced down at us, then at the door, and gave us a wink.“I should have known I’d find you here,” she said.

“We didn’t do it,” Dooley was quick to say.

“Do what? According to the doctor he died of natural causes,” said Odelia.

“The members of the murder club think he was murdered,” said Dooley.

“Murder club? What’s a murder club?” asked Odelia.

But Brian walked in and that was the end of our conversation. He was followed by Abe Cornwall, the county coroner, whose presence Brian didn’t seem to enjoy.

“What’s he doing here?” he asked. “I thought this was simply a routine visit?”

“Just making sure everything is on the up and up,” said Abe, not bothered in the slightest by Brian’s attitude. “Now where’s the stiff?”

And while Abe did his thing, Odelia and Chase quickly checked Henry’s room, opening drawers and cupboards here and there, much to Brian’s visible annoyance.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why are you here? And why are you rifling through Mr. Kaur’s things?”

“Like I said, just making sure everything is in order,” said Chase curtly.

“I think Odelia told Chase about Kirsten’s mom’s complaint,” said Harriet. “And so when they heard Henry died, they figured there might be something fishy going on.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I said. Though if the doctor had declared the man’s passing death by natural causes, there wasn’t much they could do here. People did die in their sleep all the time, and there was nothing suspicious about that.

“Better take a look at this,” Chase grunted. He and Odelia had both donned plastic gloves and Chase was now holding up a letter.

“What’s that?” asked Brian nervously. “What did you find?”

“Can you please wait outside, sir?” asked Chase. “Thank you.”

Brian was quietly fuming as he left the room, but still did as he was told. On his way out, he caught sight of the four of us, and frowned in confusion. He probably thought he was seeing things. And he did see things: four cats everywhere he looked. Sneaking into his office, watching him through his window, and now sitting there, cool as dammit, while the police were rifling through a dead man’s things.

Odelia was frowning, then when she saw that Brian had left, and that Abe was busy with Henry, crouched down and whispered,“Henry’s will. He left everything to Desmond Palka.”

“Desmond!” cried Harriet. “But that’s impossible!”

“Well, it looks as if it’s very much possible. It says so right there in black and white.” She got up again, and continued her perusal of the deceased man’s things.

“Why leave everything to Desmond?” asked Brutus. “I didn’t even think Henry and Desmond got along very well.”

“The last time we saw them together they certainly didn’t get along,” I said. “But of course we don’t know when this will was made up. Maybe they used to get on fine, until Desmond started hitting on Kirsten, and that must have got Henry very upset.”

“Maybe it’s an old will,” Brutus agreed. “And Henry was going to change it to favor someone else, but died before he had the chance.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions here,” said Harriet. “We don’t know a lot at this point, and already we’re speculating about what must have happened. Let’s keep an open mind, you guys, and wait until all the facts are in.”

Wise words, I thought. And not just in this case but in all cases.

Abe now rose from his examination of the victim.“Looks like our boy died in his sleep,” he said, pushing his glasses up his bulbous nose. “Between two and three last night I’d say. No obvious signs of foul play, but I’d have to get him on my slab to tell you more.”

“Are you sure you need to do an autopsy?” asked Odelia. “Only if it’s natural causes…”

“You said yourself that his death is awfully suspicious,” Chase pointed out. “So let’s have Abe do the autopsy so we can rule out murder.”

“Yeah, I guess,” said Odelia.

“Okay, I’ll call in my team, shall I?” said Abe. He cocked an eye at Chase. “And I can rely on you to keep this busybody off my back? This Brian fella?”

“Of course,” said Chase. “You do what you think needs to be done, and I’ll square things with Mr. Brooks.”

And that’s how the investigation began: inauspicious and tentative.

27

When we told Gran that Henry had left everything to Desmond, she thought this was so suspicious that she and Scarlett promptly decided to join Liz’s murder club and investigate Henry’s death!

“That’s too much of a coincidence,” she told Scarlett. “Desmond was here last night, we know that for a fact, and as a certified nursing assistant he probably knows how to kill a person without making it look like murder.”

“And so what? He faked that will?” asked Scarlett.

“Not necessarily,” said Gran thoughtfully. “Maybe Henry did leave everything to Desmond, but since he met Kirsten six months ago, when she started work here, Henry’s head was turned by the young woman, and so Desmond decided he needed to act fast if he was going to keep that inheritance. Sohe killed him before Henry could draw up a new will, leaving everything to Kirsten. Remember how he told her that he would make her rich? That must be what drove Desmond to kill the man.”

“But Abe says he died of natural causes, and the doctor says the same thing.”

“Let’s just wait and see,” said Gran, mimicking my thoughts exactly. “I think you’ll find that this wasn’t natural causes at all, and that Desmond has blood on his hands.”

And so our small delegation went in search of Liz to tell her the good news. We didn’t have to look far. Liz and Olivia and Bill, the three members of the murder club, were conferring in the cozy little nook that occupies the end of the corridor, and where residents can sit and relax and enjoy each other’s company.

“We want to join your murder club,” Gran announced. “We don’t think Henry died a natural death either.”

“He left all of his possessions to Desmond,” Scarlett added.

Liz’s eyes went wide. “How do you know?”

Scarlett didn’t know what to say for a moment. She could hardly tell the murder club chairwoman that Odelia had told me, and I told Gran, who told her. “Um…”

“We heard the police talking,” said Gran, quick off the mark as usual. “They found Henry’s will, and there’s only one beneficiary and that’s Desmond.”

“Good God,” said Liz. “Did you hear that, Bill?”

“I’m not deaf, woman,” said Bill. “Of course I heard that.”

“Look,” said Olivia, and produced a list of names. “These are all the suspects we think might have killed Henry. But if you say that Desmond is going to inherit, I guess that puts him right at the top of the list.”

“My point exactly,” said Liz. “Desmond must be our number-one suspect.”

“He was here last night,” said Gran. “Cause he helped us deal with Kate.” And she proceeded to tell the others about her late-night run-in with Kate Doyle.

“She actually tried to kill you?!” Olivia cried.

“Well, she probably thought I was an intruder.”

“She thought our room was her room,” said Scarlett.

“Yeah, that happened to me once,” said Liz. “She was in my room and thought I was an intruder. But at least she didn’t try to strangle me!”

“Good gracious, imagine if she had,” said her sister. “You were alone that time, weren’t you? So if she had tried to strangle you, she might have succeeded!”

Involuntarily Liz touched her throat, and so did everyone else, for that matter.

Even I felt a sudden strange constriction in the vicinity of my windpipe! Not a lot of fun to be in a place crawling with murderers and potential murderers!

“Okay, so let’s have a look at that list,” said Gran, and took it from Olivia. “So Desmond is at the top of the list from now on. And then we have… Kirsten Williams?”

“Henry had been acting very strange around her,” Liz explained. “It seemed to me he had developed some kind of obsession with the girl. And so maybe he attacked her and she defended herself and he died in the process.” She shrugged. “It’s a possibility and so we have to take it into consideration.”

“Annette Williams?”

“Kirsten’s mother,” said Liz. “She came round once, to complain to Brian about Henry. Said she wanted Kirsten to be kept away from that man. Said she didn’t trust him. Of course Brian fobbed her off by telling her he’d make sure nothing happened to her daughter, and that he vouched for his residents and yadda yadda yadda.”

“Basically he did nothing,” said Bill with a shrug.

“Which is why we put her on the list,” said Liz. “Maybe she finally got fed up with Brian’s negligence, and knew something that we don’t about what Henry’s plans were with her daughter, and so she killed him.”

“Okay, so next is Kate Doyle.”

“You told us yourself what that woman is capable of. She could have been in Henry’s room last night, after she left yours, and attacked him the same way she attacked you.”

“Bob Sankiewicz?”

“Well, Bob got tired of Henry badgering him about writing that biography of his, didn’t he?” said Bill. “He kept hounding him about the thing, and so maybe Bob finally had enough, and made sure he would never bother him again.” He gave us an apologetic grin. “Hey, I know Bob is a great guy. But as official Murder Club members we’re obliged to look at every possible angle here, whether we like it or not.”

“No, I think you’re absolutely right to put Bob on the list,” said Gran. “He does have motive, and opportunity, and means… Though we haven’t discovered how Henry was killed, have we?”

“Probably smothered with a pillow,” said Liz. “That’s how I would have done it,” she added when we all stared at her. “And since most doctors don’t look too closely when examining the death of an elderly person in a retirement home, chances are you’re going to get away with murder.”

“When you’re as old as we are, people figure we’ve got one foot in the grave anyway,” Bill added. “And so they don’t really bother to look for evidence of murder when we actually do die. I think you’d be surprised how many of these so-called natural deaths are actually murders in disguise.”

I could see that both Scarlett and Gran gulped a little at this. Retirement homes? Dens of murder and foul play? Who knew!

“Okay, so Charlie… Moore?”

“One of the cleaners,” said Olivia. “Henry had a running feud with the guy. Always said he didn’t clean good enough, and kept badgering Charlie about it, threatening to report him to Brian. Charlie didn’t seem to care too much, but maybe he got fed up and decided to get rid of Henry once and for all.”

“Was he even here last night?” asked Gran.

“No idea,” said Bill. “But we figured he’s at least worth a look. He is a suspect,” he added when Gran gave him a skeptical look. “He’s got a motive, and now all we have to prove is that he also had the opportunity.”

“They all had means,” said Liz. “They all could have used a simple pillow to smother Henry with. So I think we need to focus on opportunity, since we’ve established motive for every person on this list.”

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” asked Scarlett.

“Who?” asked Liz curiously.

“Well, Brian, of course. A difficult customer like Henry must be the bane of the existence of any retirement home director. So he gets rid of Henry, and opens up a spot for a new paying customer, this one hopefully a little less troublesome.”

“It’s possible,” said Liz. “Though as motives go, it’s not a very strong one, I’d say.”

“No, if Brian wanted to get rid of the difficult residents, he wouldn’t have picked Henry. There are others who are a lot more trouble,” said Bill.

“Maybe he did get rid of some of the others,” said Gran keenly. “Maybe Brian is a serial killer, and has been murdering residents ever since he became manager!”

Liz cackled with laughter.“I knew you’d make a great addition to Murder Club, Janelle!”

“Well done,” Bill chimed in with an indulgent smile. “Brian Brooks as a serial killer. Even I hadn’t thought of that.”

“It’s possible,” Olivia conceded. “Though highly unlikely.”

And so the investigation was off to a good start. Tasks were divided, suspects were discussed, and soon the meeting was adjourned.

“So why didn’t they ask us to join, Max?” asked Dooley as we left the others to talk amongst themselves.

“Because Murder Club is reserved for humans, Dooley,” I said. “And not cats.”

“We could launch our own Murder Club,” Harriet suggested. “I’m sure we’ll beat them in solving this case.”

“It’s not about who wins, Harriet,” I said. “It’s about getting justice for Henry—if he was murdered, and that’s still a big if.”

“So you don’t think he was murdered, do you, Max?” asked Brutus.

“I don’t know is what I’m saying. Until Abe tells us that he was murdered, or until his team of forensic specialists digs up some evidence, I’m going to defer judgment.”

“Fine,” said Harriet. “But while we’re waiting, at least we can start our investigation, can’t we?”

“Of course,” I said. Because I had to admit that things looked very suspicious. Henry had seemed healthy enough, not suffering from any ailments that could have caused his sudden demise. So working from the premise that his death wasn’t natural was the correct approach in my book. And then ifAbe found evidence that he was indeed murdered, with a little luck we might already have found the man’s killer.

28

Murder Club didn’t sit still, but immediately went about its business of trying to ascertain who could be guilty of Henry’s possible murder. And since it was a little hard for us to follow all five members of Murder Club around, we divvied up the tasks, the way we had done since our arrival at Happy Home.

Dooley and I were present at Gran’s interview with Kirsten, and it soon became clear to us that Kirsten didn’t actually bear a grudge against the man, much less had murdered him.

“I thought he died of natural causes?” she asked now as she went about her duties, with Gran following her around, and Dooley and I following Gran around.

“We’re not sure yet what happened, but just in case it was foul play, we want to see who could have done it,” Gran explained.

“Well, if you think I did it, you’re very much mistaken,” said Kirsten, who still looked sad at this sudden demise of a man she considered a friend. “I liked Henry. So what if he was a little eccentric? That doesn’t mean he meant anybody any harm. He was a peace-loving person, and went out of his way to make my life easier, for which I’ll always be grateful. He even told off Desmond, when he caught him stalking me.”

“Henry told off Desmond?”

“Oh, sure, on more than one occasion. Desmond didn’t like it, but he couldn’t say anything. He was afraid Henry would report him to Brian, and as far as I know, he may have done. Though if he did, he never told me about it.”

“Okay, so what about all this talk that he was rich and that he was going to make you rich?”

“Who told you about that?” asked Kirsten with a frown. “I didn’t think anyone knew.”

“I don’t remember who told me, exactly,” Gran lied. “So it’s true? He said he was going to make you rich?”

“Oh, that was just talk. I didn’t pay much attention to any of that. I think deep down Henry was lonely, and he thought that by telling me how rich he was, and how he was going to make me a rich woman one day, he was simply trying to get my attention. But I could have told him it wasn’t necessary. I liked him just the way he was, rich or poor. I thought he was a kind man, and very wise, and also very funny.”

“He said he lived an eventful life, and that he had secrets that he never told anyone. Did he share some of those secrets with you?”

“No, he didn’t. And I honestly don’t believe he did lead such an interesting life, or had any secrets. I think he was a very nice person, but he made all of that stuff up.”

“So no secrets? And no big fortune?”

“No, of course not. If he really was a millionaire or a billionaire, do you think he would have been a resident here? This isn’t the kind of place where billionaires come to spend their final days, Mrs. Corr. So no, I never believed any of that.”

“Do you think Desmond might have believed it?”

“Oh, absolutely. Desmond would believe anything,” she said with a touch of bitterness. “He loves money, and if Henry told him he was rich, he would have lapped it up. But honestly I don’t think he talked to Desmond all that much. They weren’t friends or anything.”

“But Henry wrote in his will that he left everything to Desmond,” said Gran.

Kirsten looked astonished at this.“He did? How strange. I never would have thought…”

“It’s possible it’s an old will, of course,” said Gran. “Maybe dates back to when Henry first arrived here, fifteen years ago.”

“Yes, I guess that’s possible. But still. Why would he leave everything to Desmond? They didn’t even get along.”

“I don’t think she did it,” said Dooley. “If Henry was murdered, I mean,” he said. “But if he was killed, my money is on Desmond.”

“And Henry’s money, too, apparently,” I said.

“Remember how we were wondering about Desmond’s fancy car? And his expensive watch? And how he managed to afford it on his salary? Maybe he’s done this before. Maybe he’s killed other residents, and made them leave everything to him in their will.”

“It’s possible,” I said. Though unlikely, I would have added. Then again, in a long and checkered career as a sleuth I’ve seen so many odd cases nothing surprises me anymore.

We’d just finished talking to Kirsten when the girl’s mother popped in for a visit. She said she’d heard about what happened to Henry and wanted to see if her daughter was all right.

“I’m fine, Mom,” said Kirsten. “Just a little shocked, that’s all. I only saw Henry yesterday, and he was so healthy and so energetic. And now all of a sudden, he’s gone. I can’t really believe it, you know.”

“I know,” said Annette. “But maybe it’s for the best.”

“Mom, how can you say that! He was my friend!”

“Of course he was,” said Annette, but she couldn’t conceal she was secretly happy the man was dead, and wouldn’t be able to do whatever he planned to do to Kirsten.

Gran took Annette aside for a little chat.“So rumor has it that the police are conducting a full murder inquiry,” she said. “And so we’re trying to piece back together what actually happened last night. You wouldn’t have been in the vicinity, would you?”

Annette laughed a nervous laugh.“What are you talking about? If I wanted to kill Henry, do you think I would have asked Odelia to investigate the man? I’m the one who got you here, Mrs. Muffin, don’t you forget that.”

“Oh, I know, I know,” said Gran. “But I have to cover all of my bases. And you’ve got a motive to kill the man, Mrs. Williams, you have to admit that. You were afraid of what Henry might do to Kirsten, so maybe you received some troubling information and decided to act before he got the chance to do whatever he was up to?”

“I didn’t receive any information apart from what I told your granddaughter,” said Annette with a touch of stiffness. And I could see where she was coming from. If you ask a person to help you protect your daughter, and then this person turns around and accuses you of murder, it’s like nursing a viper in your bosom, if you see what I mean. Treacherous, you know. Not very nice.

“Look, I didn’t like Henry, that’s true,” said Annette, settling down somewhat after her first outburst of anger. “And I didn’t trust him. And I was worried about my daughter. But I’m not a killer, Mrs. Muffin. And you can tell Odelia that. And besides, I was home last night—all night.”