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“Yeah, the techies discovered that Frey used to sync his smartphone to his laptop, which was an automated process, apparently. The last time he did was September sixteen, which is also the last time the laptop was accessed.”

“Because it ended up in the cesspit along with the body.”

“Exactly.”

“Did you get anything off his phone?”

“Nope. We’re checking his laptop, but so far it hasn’t yielded any clues.”

“No webcam picture of the killer bending over the victim while he was busy working on his next masterpiece?”

He laughed.“Now wouldn’t that be something? But no. No picture of the killer.”

“Too bad.”

“Yeah.” He gave her a quick look. “Chase tells me you keep popping up wherever he goes?”

“I could say the same thing about him.”

“It’s driving him nuts,” said her uncle with a grin. “I guess NYPD cops aren’t used to reporters interviewing suspects and going over the crime scene.”

“I guess not,” she said with a smile.

“You talked to Aissa Spring and Gabby Cleret, so there’s not much you don’t already know, I guess,” he said, checking a file on his desk.

“Apart from the fact that Paulo Frey was not a nice person? I guess not.”

“Yeah, he was a piece of work, all right,” her uncle admitted. “I talked to Hetta Fried, by the way.”

“The owner of the Writer’s Lodge? What did she have to say?”

“Well, apparently Frey never paid his bills. He had this thing where he simply ignored any reminder she’d send him until she threatened with a lawsuit. Then he’d pay up, but only a fraction of the total amount.”

“But why? I thought he was rich.”

Her uncle shrugged.“Maybe that’s how he got rich? He hadn’t paid his bills for the last two years.”

“And she still allowed him to come back?”

“Sure. Having a big-name author like him was good for business. Just the mention of his name on the website attracted a lot of lesser writers, who wanted to write in the same place as the master, hoping to catch some of the magic.” The last word he said making air quotes.

“I can’t imagine Hetta would kill him over unpaid bills, though.”

“Me neither. She wasn’t going to kill the goose with the golden eggs, even if he didn’t pay his bills. Besides, this murder is murder on her business. She told me she’s received a dozen cancellations already and might have to close down the lodge if this keeps up.”

“I guess lesser writers don’t want to write where the master got killed.”

“I guess not,” he said with a grin. “Oh, and I also talked to the production company that went belly up after that Indiana Jones fracas.”

She sat up. Now that was a valuable lead.“And? Any suspects?”

He studied his notes.“I talked to one of the principals, and he didn’t have a lot of good things to say about Frey. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever heard so many four-letter words in such a short space of time. But he also assured me he didn’t kill Frey. And yes, I checked his alibi,” he said before she could ask. “You’re talking to an old dog here, honey. I know how to do my job. The guy was at a party in Beverly Hills, and so was his partner. So no dice.”

“Too bad,” she said, disappointed. That was such a good lead. Then she brightened. “Maybe they hired a professional to get rid of Frey?”

He stared at her.“Odelia, honey, movie producers don’t go around having people killed. It’s Hollywood, not the Mob.”

She shrugged.“Just saying. It’s a possibility.”

“A very implausible one.”

“So, um…” She stared at the desk. “Have you heard from Chase?”

He eyed her with a humorous expression on his face.“Yeah, he told me he saw you snooping around the lodge. He also told me you almost broke your neck.”

“I didn’t break my neck,” she protested. “I would have been perfectly fine if he hadn’t started badgering me, causing me to lose my footing.”

“So he caused you to lose your footing, huh? How did that happen?”

She noticed he was grinning from ear to ear, and glared at him. He was just as bad as Max and Dooley. Did everyone think she had the hots for Chase Kingsley?“He caught me just as I was trying to get into the place.”

“You should have asked for the key,” he said, still smiling.

“I didn’t think about that,” she admitted.

“Well, you wouldn’t have found anything of importance in there anyway. We searched that place top to bottom. Went over it with a crime scene team.”

“No fingerprints?”

“Oh, sure. Lots and lots of them. That place gets rented out on a weekly basis, honey, and let me tell you, Rohanna Coral, whatever her other qualities, is a lousy cleaner. We found dust that hadn’t been shifted in years.”

“Yeah, I talked to Rohanna. She said Frey was a good tipper.”

“At least someone got some money out of the guy.”

They stared at each other for a beat.“So who killed him, Chief?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” he grumbled. “And I’m also sure you’ll find out.”

She laughed.“And why is that?”

“You’ve got skills, honey. Skills that no one else has. So…”

She stared at him. She’d long suspected that her uncle knew about the special talent she’d inherited from his sister. Dad knew, of course. You can’t live with three generations of women and not know. Had Marge told her brother? Or had he noticed her uncommon affinity with cats growing up together? She gave him a grateful smile now. If he knew about their secret, he certainly hadn’t told anyone. “Thanks, Uncle Alec.”

He seemed taken aback.“What for?”

“For letting me be a part of the investigation. And for your confidence.”

He made a throwaway gesture.“Oh, nonsense. Anyone with a brain can see you’re a natural at this stuff, honey.”

“Chase Kingsley can’t see it.”

“Well,” he said with a grin, “Chase is new. He’s got a lot to learn about Hampton Cove and the way we do things around here. I’m sure that over time he’ll start to see what a great addition you make to the team, in a non-official capacity. Now what are your plans? Where do we go from here?”

She chewed her lip for a moment, then suddenly remembered something.“You know, when I talked to Gabby, she mentioned something about there probably being other people out there that Frey must have slandered. How about I try to find those other victims? Maybe one of them finally snapped?”

“Great idea,” he grunted. “Chase said something similar.”

“Oh, Chase is looking into that angle too, huh?”

Uncle Alec scratched his scalp.“He’s a great detective, actually.” He eyed her wearily for a moment. “You may not see eye to eye with the guy, but he’s a first-rate sleuth, and, just like you, a great addition to the team.”

She nodded.“I know. It’s just that he rubs me the wrong way, especially when he insists I’m just a nosy reporter and should mind my own business.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, he’ll get over that. I’m sure that’s just a big-city kind of thing. Now that he’s here in the sticks, he’ll see we do things differently.”

And with these wise words, he waved her off.

Chapter 17

Walking out of the police station, she wondered what her next course of action should be. How could she figure out who Frey’s other victims were? And then she got it. All manner of vile abuse these days was done on social media sites. So where better to start her search than by going through Frey’s feeds? If he’d targeted people, she was bound to find the evidence right there.

She headed back to the office and for the next couple of hours meticulously went through Frey’s Facebook page, his Twitter feed and his Instagram. She even read his blog, and when she finally had enough, her view of Paulo Frey had taken a nosedive, if that was even possible.

The man was simply a troll, and not one of the nice cuddly ones with the brightly colored hair either, but a vicious, nasty one who stalked anyone he disagreed with. He’d engaged in online warfare with so many people it was a miracle he hadn’t been killed sooner. Gabby Cleret was only the tip of the iceberg. Over the course of the last couple of years, he’d fought with so many people she wondered why people still bothered to read his books. Surely readers must have discovered what a dreadful person he was by now?

But instead of abandoning him in droves, he’d actually garnered support for his trollish behavior. A group of rabid followers, calling themselves the UnaFreyds, admired his boldness and the way he dared say what others didn’t, and had enthusiastically endorsed his attacks on reporters, actors, politicians and anyone else he didn’t agree with. When he’d disagreed with a reporter for theNew York Times, they’d actually gone after the man IRL, which was short for In Real Life, by picketing his house. The man had finally been forced to move to an undisclosed location with his wife and kid.

Holy crap, she thought as she sat back. This guy was the worst of the worst. No wonder someone had taken a poker to the back of his head. The only question was who? Who of the dozens of people he’d harassed had finally taken matters into their own hands and ended the guy’s reign of terror? It appeared there were a great number of candidates. All they needed to do was check them one by one, to see if they’d been in town that day.

She quickly compiled a list of the most egregious displays of online abuse, and emailed it to Uncle Alec. Then she rubbed her eyes and closed her laptop. Tonight she had that dinner with Chase Kingsley to look forward to, and if Max was right—and she had no doubt in her mind that he was—she owed the guy an apology. She wasn’t going to offer him one, though, for his behavior against her didn’t warrant one. She wasn’t the commissioner and she hadn’t gotten him fired from his job, so why he had to be so angry with her she didn’t know. Sure, he had a bone to pick with thePost, but she wasn’t thePost. She was just a small-town reporter who had a newspaper to fill.

Which reminded her that the Paulo Frey case wasn’t the only article that needed writing. So for the next couple of hours, she diligently typed up an article on the upcoming opening of a new flower shop on Bleecker Street, an article on the new Children’s Room in the library—courtesy of her mother—and a small article on the mermaid festival that was taking place down at the marina. Anyone who wanted to compete had to show up in their best mermaid’s costume and prove they could swim. The jury awarded a prize to the best one, and a picture would be featured on the front page of the paper.

Thinking of pictures… She quickly transferred the pictures she’d taken at the crime scene to her laptop, and leafed through them. She’d taken a couple of the pit, and suddenly got an idea. Uncle Alec said they’d gotten Frey’s laptop to work but hadn’t found any evidence on it so far. What if she could takea closer look at it? Now that she knew what kind of man Frey was, it stood to reason he’d been threatened over the years. What if he kept some of that stuff on his computer? Maybe it could provide a clue to the murderer?

She fired off another email to her uncle, asking him if she could take a look at the laptop, and he immediately wrote back to tell her she was more than welcome to have a peek, along with the other stuff they found in the pit.

Most of her work for the day done, she breezed into Dan’s office.

“All done?” he asked, looking up from his own computer.

“Yeah, pretty much,” she said, leaning against the doorjamb. “I haven’t solved the Frey murder. Yet. But the rest is all done.”

He laughed.“You’re incredible, Odelia. You know,” he said, removing his glasses and starting to polish them with the hem of his shirt, “I think you’re going to solve this murder. I really do.”

“Of course I’m going to solve this murder,” she said with humorous bluster. “Who do you think I am? Some talentless hack?”

“No, you’re definitely not a talentless hack,” he agreed. “In fact I think hiring you was probably the best decision I ever made in a long career. Now shoo. I’ll finish up here.”

She grinned at the aged editor.“See you, Dan.”

“See you, honey. Say hi to your folks for me.”

“Will do.”

As she climbed into her pickup, she took in the empty passenger seat, and wondered if Max and Dooley would have remembered the other story she’d been working on today: the secret affair of the NYPD commissioner and the mayor’s wife. And as she started up the car, she hoped they’d find proof of Chase’s innocence. But even if they didn’t, she knew they’d called it: the guy was innocent. She now realized she’d known all along,but had allowed her instincts to be clouded by her annoyance with the guy.

Chase might be a pain in the behind, but he was not a molester of women.

She now wondered if maybe deep down she already knew who Frey’s killer was. She thought for a moment. Somewhere at the back of her mind, the kernel of an idea was tugging, but she couldn’t quite catch it. Something she’d missed. But what? And where? And, more importantly, who?

Chapter 18

I think I’d been a little too optimistic when I told Odelia I’d solve this mystery in a heartbeat. Dooley and I had been traipsing all over town, talking to any cat we could find, and so far had nothing to show for our efforts. None of them had an inkling of who Chase Kingsley was, or the commissioner of the NYPD, or even the mayor’s wife for that matter, nor did they care.

Instead, they all shook their heads, convinced we’d both gone off our rockers. I should have known, of course. Cats, as you may or may not know, like to stick close to home. They like to wander around, preferably at night, when the world is asleep, in search of mice or other little snacks, but never stray far, for they like to be home before dawn, curl up at the foot of a warm, soft bed, and wait until their human wakes up to fill up their bowl of kibble.

We used to be proud hunters once upon a time, but centuries of being fed and nurtured by humans have made us lazy and complacent. New York is another continent, as far as we are concerned, and rarely do we even venture outside of Hampton Cove these days. Why should we, when all we need is right here at home?

Even my theory that we might run into a cat who’d met a cat who’d talked to a cat who’d witnessed the commissioner and the mayor’s wife in the act was pretty far-fetched, I now saw. Cats rarely travel. Dogs love to ride in cars, their heads stuck out the window, tongues lolling in the breeze, but then we all know dogs are a bunch of dummies. Cats are dignified creatures. We wouldn’t be seen dead with our tongues hanging out and our faces flapping.

And then there was the fact that both Dooley and I were bone-tired. Daytime is sleeping time, and we’d skipped nap time to go out hiking in the woods, and to play detective across town. It also explained why there weren’t all that many cats around, and those that were, didn’t want to be disturbed. The best time to do this was at night, Dooley reminded me as we dragged our weary bodies alongthe strip mall, on the edge of town.

“You’re right,” I admitted. “Let’s call it quits and do this again tonight, when there are more cats around. Maybe we’ll have better luck then.”

“I kinda doubt it, Max,” said Dooley. “Considering all the cats we talked to laughed in our faces, I think our chances of finding the one cat that saw the mayor of New York having relations with the commissioner are slim.”

“Mayor’s wife,” I corrected him tiredly. “The mayor’s wife is having relations with the commissioner, not the mayor.”

“Who cares?” Dooley cried. It was obvious he was getting cranky.

And we were just about to call it a day and return to our cozy home, when I happened to glance at a set of dumpsters located behind the mall and recognized a familiar figure snooping around in there.

“Don’t look now, but I think I just saw Clarice,” I whispered, even though she probably couldn’t hear me from this distance.

“Clarice? Where?” Dooley asked, immediately starting to look around like a tourist on a tour bus.

“I said, don’t look now,” I hissed. “She’s over there by those dumpsters.”

I watched as the scrawny feline dove into one of the dumpsters, obviously fishing around for something edible.

“Poor creature,” Dooley said ruefully. “No home, no hearth, and no food.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe she’s luckier than us. At least she gets to choose her food. I’ll bet there’s some choice stuff in those dumpsters.”

“I see what you mean,” he said. “Do you think there’s raw meat in there?”

“Raw meat, pizza, lasagna, a nice beef burger. You name it, they got it.”

“Maybe we’ll have a peek?” he suggested. “I need me some raw meat.”

“What’s with this sudden raw meat obsession?”

He shrugged.“I can’t help it that Brutus gets fed raw meat and I don’t, can I? And that because of that he’s better looking and more attractive.”

“Well, I’m not so sure about that,” I intimated.

“What do you mean?”

“What if he’s lying? He wouldn’t be the first cat to turn out a liar.”

“You mean he’s lying about the meat?”

“Why not? There’s no way for us to check.”

“He’s just messing with us!” cried Dooley. “And deceiving poor Harriet.”

“Don’t feel sorry for Harriet. If she chooses that brute it’s her funeral.”

“Funeral!” he cried, his voice skipping an octave. “Do you really believe that horrible creep would hurt her?”

“It’s just an expression, Dooley,” I said irritably. The longer I was up, the more cranky I was becoming as well. I needed a nap and some food and I needed it an hour ago. First things first, though. “Let’s have a chat, shall we?” I suggested, and started tripping over to the dumpsters.

“A chat?” he asked, falling into step beside me. “With who?”

“With whom,” I corrected him. We might be cats, but that was no excuse for a lapse in grammar. “Who do you think?”

“Is this a trick question?” he whined. “Don’t do this to me, Max. Not when I’m tired. Just tell me already. Whommmm are we going to chat with?”

“Clarice, of course.”

He gulped.“Clarice? Are you nuts? She’ll just tell us she saw nuthin.”

“Well, maybe she will, or maybe she won’t. But it’s definitely worth a try.”

Of all the cats I knew in Hampton Cove, Clarice was the one who’d traveled the most and traveled the farthest. She had to, to find food and shelter, as she didn’t have a human to take care of her. Once upon a time, the rumor went, she’d had a human, but he’d abandoned her. Some tourist who came to Hampton Cove for the holidays, and then tied her to a tree out in the woods and took off. The same rumor held that she’d gnawed off her own paw to escape, like James Franco, though from what I’d seen her limbs were still present and accounted for, so that story might just have been a fabrication.

“Clarice,” I called out as we approached the dumpster she was currently holed up in. “Clarice, we’d like to talk to you.” The small collection of dumpsters was where the stores the mall was comprised of dumped their garbage, and was always a place where all manner of critters gathered.

When Clarice’s head popped up out of the dumpster, looking shifty-eyed and ready to flee, Dooley chimed in, “Hey, Clarice. So we meet again, huh? What are the odds?” He looked a little afraid, and with good reason. Clarice had been known to lash out when she was approached without invitation.

“We were just wondering—” I began.

“I know nuthin,” she muttered, repeating her usual mantra.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, a little gruffly. I wasn’t in the mood for games. I was tired and hungry and my paws hurt. “Look, all we need to know is whether you know a cat who knows a cat who might have seen a cat who…”

“I know nuthin,” Clarice repeated.

“See? I told you this was a waste of time,” said Dooley. He’d planted himself on his rear end and was sniffing the air, probably looking for meat.

“Look, we just want to know—”

“I know nuthin!” she repeated, and jumped out of the dumpster, giving us both the dirtiest of looks and starting to walk away.

“Now hold it right there!” I cried. “All we want is information. Is that too much to ask? If you tell us what we need to know we’ll even share our kibble with you next time you’re in the neighborhood. Isn’t that right, Dooley?”

Dooley stared at me. He obviously didn’t agree. If anyone was going to share his kibble, it was going to be me. Well, that was fine by me. From experience I knew that fresh kibble was only a trip to the store away.

I panted a little, because Clarice was giving me her best stare. Locked in a stare-down with the most feral cat in Hampton Cove. If she lashed out now and scratched my nose, that would set the seal on this day. To my surprise, she didn’t. Instead, she said, “Oh, all right, Max, you annoying little weasel. What do you wanna know?”

Relieved, I told her about the murder of Paulo Frey. It turned out that the Writer’s Lodge was like a second home to her. Which, now that I thought about it, wasn’t surprising. Writers are an easy mark for a cat’s affections, as a lot of them genuinely like us. Most of them got cats at home, and when they come out to the woods to write they miss their little furballs. So when they see Clarice lurking in the woods, they try to lure her by offering her the best treats. I now saw what her MO was, and with it came a newfound respect.

“Well, I don’t know anything about that Chase Kingsley affair,” she finally said, “and I don’t care one hoot either. What humans do is none of my business. What I can tell you is I saw someone drag the body of that writer out of the lodge a year ago, so I’m guessing that might have beenyour killer.”

Dooley and I exchanged excited glances.“You saw the killer?” I asked.

“Sure, sure,” she said, studying her nails, which were razor-sharp. “They dragged the body of that Frey guy out of the lodge and dumped it where they like to do their business. Made a nice big splash, too. Then they came out again and dumped a bunch of other stuff in there.”

“A laptop and a couple of suitcases,” I said.

“Sure, sure,” she said, rolling her eyes, already bored with the conversation.

“So?” I asked when she was silent for a beat. “Who was it?!”

“Yeah, Clarice,” Dooley huffed out. “Who’s the killer?”

“What’s it worth to you?” she asked, removing a fishbone from between her teeth and giving it a tentative nibble.

“Whatever you want,” I said excitedly.

“I’ll take a twenty-pound bag of fish kibble. The expensive stuff. And a couple bags of that party mix you guys seem to like so much. Mixed grill.”

“Deal!” I cried.

Clarice gave a chuckle, spit out the fishbone and suddenly, fast as lightning, flicked a paw beneath the dumpster and came away with a mouse, dragging it out by its tail. And then, before our horrified gaze, she gobbled down the mouse, hair and hide!

I gulped and so did Dooley. We weren’t necessarily mouse hunters, what with having such a cushy life and all, and watching this… massacre taking place in front of our noses reminded us we were as far removed from our feral ancestors as felinely possible.

“So, those are my terms,” Clarice said, spitting out the mouse tail and using it to pick her teeth. “I want the best stuff. Take it or leave it.”

“Sure! Fine! All right!” I cried. “I can get you all that and more.”

I was pretty sure that Odelia wouldn’t mind trading a couple of expensive bags of cat food for the identity of the Paulo Frey killer. It was a bargain!

Clarice held up her paw, then sliced it with the nail of her other paw. A small drop of blood dribbled down. I thought I was going to faint at the sight of the blood, and it was obvious Dooley was feeling the same way.

“Put it there, fellas,” she said in that gravelly voice of hers. “Let’s seal the deal with blood.”

“Is that really necessary?” asked Dooley in a choked voice.

“No blood, no deal,” growled Clarice.

“What is this, the Middle Ages?” squeaked Dooley. “I thought we were past all this nonsense.”

“All right, all right,” I said, fearing Clarice would change her mind. So I held up my left paw and made a small incision. A drop of blood appeared, and I suddenly felt queasy. That’s the curse of being a house cat: you lose those killer instincts.

“Now you, Dooley,” I said.

“Yeah. Now you, Dooley,” said Clarice in a mocking voice. “Put it there, pal.” She was simply taunting us, I realized. Playing with us, as if we were mice.

“I—I can’t,” he cried. “I can’t stand the sight of blood. And I—I hate the pain!” he added with a pathetic whiny voice.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Clarice grunted. “What are you, a cat or a mouse? Come here, you pansy-ass puss.” And with a vicious slicing movement, she scratched Dooley’s nose.

“Owowowowow!” he cried. “What did you do that for?!”

“Because you’re a whiny little pussy,” she said, and put her hand up to his nose, giving it a hearty pat. “Now you, Max. Slap one on this sissy’s nose.”

I put my paw against hers and Dooley’s nose, so that our blood mingled. It was a very unhygienic business, I thought, and as I did it, I winced. Dooley mewled with apparent pain, and obviously didn’t like his nose squeezed between my paw and Clarice’s. He bore it bravely, though, probably because he didn’t have any choice. Ifhe ran for the hills now, Clarice would hunt him down and eat him alive, just like she’d swallowed down that mouse.

Clarice finally grunted her approval.“It’s not your regular blood oath,” she said as she gave Dooley a nasty glare, “but I guess it’ll do.”

And, as promised, she proceeded to put us on the scene she’d witnessed over a year ago, when Paulo Frey had lost his life. Both Dooley and I gasped when we finally learned the identity of the killer, and stared at each other in abject horror. All this time I’d figured that some outsider had done the terrible deed, and not one of our own, but now it turned out that evil had been much closer than we’d figured. We’d harbored a viper at our bosoms, and Hampton Cove would never be the same again after this startling revelation.

“So I’ll come and collect one of these days,” Clarice reminded me, and then seemed to take pity on us. “Cheer up, boys,” she snarled. “It’s a tough world. Kill or be killed. No need to get all mushy on me. You’re cats, for crying out loud, not pansies. Learn to love the pain! Love it!”

After dispensing these pearls of wisdom, she trotted off, leaving bloody paw prints behind. Long after she’d left, Dooley and I still sat there, staring into space, Dooley with blood dripping down his nose, which he occasionally licked, trying to heal the wound, and me holding up my paw and also licking it in a steady rhythm. I wasn’t going to go walkabout now, not with that cut. It just might infect and cause gangrene and then my entire leg would have to come off, and how would I look then? I know, I know. Dooley and I are not exactly feral. Sue us. We’re house cats, used to the good life. Used to being pampered and spoiled. At least we’d just solved the Paulo Frey murder.

After what seemed like the longest time, we set a course for the homestead, and Dooley was the first one to break the silence.

“Who would have thought?”

“Yeah, who would have thunk?”

We didn’t speak again. We were both bone-tired, and the moment we arrived home, we both dropped our weary bodies down, me on my favorite spot on the couch, and Dooley right next to me. He’d asked to crash at my place, as he didn’t want to risk coming across Harriet and Brutus, and I’d magnanimously agreed. Dooley and I are like brothers, and my space is his space. Besides, we’d just made a blood oath, so now we were blood brothers.

And then we both fell into a deep, healing sleep, dreaming of cruel killers and feral cats and big bags of the best kibble Odelia’s money could buy.

Chapter 19

Odelia parked the pickup across the street from the library. It was located on its own patch of land, and fronted by a small garden that sported several flower beds and looked as colorful, cozy and inviting as the library itself, the place where her mother Marge had worked all her life. A neo-Elizabethan style building, it looked like something transported from England and plunked down here. Once inside, it got even better, as high ceilings and open spaces invited you in. Hampton Covians young and old gathered here to find their favorite book or to listen to one of the writers occasionally asked to read from their work.

Recently the library had been expanded with a children’s wing, which was now the pride and talk of the town. Odelia didn’t have to look long for her mother, who was at the desk, checking out a couple of books for a young mother and her two kids. While she waited until her mom was free, Odelia strode to the newspaper and magazine nook and took a seat. A copy of her very ownHampton Cove Gazette was on display, right next to the big boys like theNew York Times, theWashington Post andUSA Today. Of course the local press was also represented:Dan’s Papers and theEast Hampton Star had pride of place.

She picked up a copy ofTime Magazine and saw that it featured an article on Paulo Frey, on the occasion of his disappearance one year ago. She leafed through the article, and saw that the reporter, like most people, simply assumed the writer had gone off to write a novel somewhere on an exotic island, and would soon return clutching a voluminous tome that would prove his masterpiece. Little did they know he’d been resting at the bottom of a pit all this time.

She placed the magazine back on the stand and wandered over to the new children’s section, past rows and rows of neatly indexed books. The children’s room sported a large boat, where kids could sit and read, and other creative nooks as well, all in a bid to inspire the new generation to take up the habit of picking up a book from time to time. In this day and age of electronic devices, it was sometimes hard to get kids to read, when they could watch a cartoon on their tablet computer instead, and the new wing had been designed to provide kids with a sense of curiosity about the world of books, and to instill them with a love for the medium that would hopefully last a lifetime.

“Great space, huh?” her mother asked when she joined her. Marge Poole was a fine-boned woman with long blond hair, just like her daughter, and soft, brown eyes that spoke of her humanity. She was soft-spoken and sweet-tempered, and had been a mainstay at the library for the past thirty years.

She now stepped into the boat and picked up a picture book of Jonah and the Whale and started flipping its pages. Odelia joined her and picked up a Garfield comic book. Garfield always reminded her of Max.

“So how are things at the paper?” Marge asked.

“Great,” said Odelia. The boat was even more spacious than she’d imagined, even for two grownups, so she gathered for kids it was enormous. “I’m working on an article about the Paulo Frey murder case.”

“I heard about that,” said her mother, looking up. “What a horrible thing to happen in Hampton Cove. Who would have thought something like this was even possible? It’s more something you’d expect in New York, not here.”

“Yeah, it’s not something that happens every day,” she agreed, then decided to broach a topic that might lead her into trouble. “Dad told me you invited that new cop for dinner? Chase Kingsley?”

Her mother’s face lit up with a smile. “Such a nice young man. I figured since he’s new in town, it would be nice to offer him a home-cooked meal and show him that Hampton Cove is a genuinely hospitable town.”

“So you met him, huh?”

“Alec brought him by the library yesterday to introduce him.”

“He, um…” She hesitated. “Did he tell you about his previous career?”

“Well, Alec told me that Chase used to work for the NYPD.”

“Did he also tell you how he got fired?”

Her mom’s eyes widened. “Fired? No, he didn’t tell me about that.”

In a few brief words she explained why it was that Hampton Cove had suddenly gained a policeman while the NYPD had lost one. She also added that Max and Dooley were convinced that the man was innocent of the charges, and that they’d set out to prove it.

“Of course he’s innocent,” said her mother now. “A man like that could never be guilty of such a heinous crime. Harassment, no less. I think I would recognize a molester when I saw one, and Chase definitely isn’t one. In fact I’m surprised you thought for a moment he could be guilty of such a crime.”

She shrugged.“Like I told Dad, we got off on the wrong foot. He took a dislike to me, simply because I’m a reporter, and then things escalated.”

“We’ll settle all of that tonight. You and Chase can take a stroll after dinner and work things out. Kiss and make up,” she said blithely.

She blinked, and felt her cheeks redden.“Um, I don’t know about that,” she said. “He seems to hate my guts, especially after…”

Her mother frowned.“After what?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, idly toying with a particularly colorful troll that was placed on the edge of the boat. Which reminded her… “Did you know that Frey had a reputation for trolling people? Especially women and gays?”

“No, I didn’t,” said her mother, surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty much. He trolled Gabby Cleret and Aissa Spring and a lot of others. Turns out he wasn’t such a nice person, and whoever killed him was probably one of his victims.”

“I simply can’t imagine. He was in here often, you know.”

This surprised her.“He was?”

“Well, as a writer of his stature we took every opportunity to invite him for readings. He was extremely accommodating and always proved a big hit.”

She gave her mother a grin.“So you can’t recognize a molester of women after all, huh?”

Marge pursed her lips in disapproval.“Are you sure those aren’t just rumors and gossip? Paulo Frey never struck me as an unpleasant man. Quite the contrary. I thought he was extremely charming, and eager to please.”

“Yes, I’m sure, Mom,” she said, remembering Aissa’s story, and Gabby’s harrowing tale. “He was actually a very nasty person.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re right,” said her mother, fiddling with a troll. They were placed throughout the library because of a special screening of the movieTrolls. Justin Timberlake was supposed to attend and sing a song.“I just hope they catch his killer soon. I’d hate for anyone else to get hurt.”

“I don’t think anyone else is going to get hurt. This was personal.”

“Well, I’m sure Alec and Chase will capture the killer soon enough.”

“Not if I catch him first.”

This elicited a frown from her mother.“Honey, you’re not a police officer. You’re a reporter. Why don’t you leave this nasty business to Alec?”

“Because I have an instinct for solving crime, Mom, even Alec said so.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to go and willingly put yourself in harm’s way, honey. Messing around with murder is extremely dangerous.”

“I’m sure that this killer only ever intended to make one victim,” she said, brushing off her mother’s concerns. Mom was always worried about her safety. She’d been even more worried when she’d been away in New York, in college, and only came home on the weekends. Now that she was home again, living next door, she still worried. Even though she was proud that her little girl was a reporter, she’d much rather have seen her pursue a career fraught with less danger. Like a doctor, following in her father’s footsteps.

In her mother’s hopes and dreams for her future, she’d always seen her work alongside her father, so she could take over the practice when he retired one day. Even her father had faintly harbored that wish. But she’d never had any interest in the medical profession. Journalism had been her first love, andshe’d always known that when she grew up she’d be a reporter, just like Dan. Even though she’d had loftier ambitions at the time. She’d always wanted to be a reporter for one of the big papers. Or even one of the big networks. But she’d soon discovered that at heart she was a small-town girl, and had to accept she’d never make a career in New York. She’d never fly overseas to cover a war, or interview the leaders of the world gathered in Davos. And she was fine with that. She was happy right here in Hampton Cove, covering the opening of a new library wing, or the mermaid festival.

“Look, this is what I do, Mom,” she said. “And I’m sure that whoever this killer is, isn’t going to come after me.”

“How can you be so sure?” asked her mother, worry etched on her features.

“Call it a hunch. This killer isn’t a serial killer. It’s someone pushed too far by Frey. Someone who decided enough was enough. Whoever this is, isn’t going to kill again, I’m sure of it.”

“Unless you get too close,” said her mother, looking fearful. “And then they will lash out, simply to keep you from discovering the truth about them.”

“That’s not gonna happen. You know me. I’m always very careful.”

“I wish you’d just leave all this business to your uncle Alec and this nice young policeman, honey. They can protect themselves. They’re trained to.”

She saw she would never be able to convince her mother, so she decided to change the subject.“Any idea how to convince Hampton Cove that Chase Kingsley is innocent of the crime he’s been accused of?”

Her mother frowned at this.“Convince? Why, there’s nothing to prove. Anyone can see he’s a perfectly nice young man with impeccable morals.”

“Not everyone is as welcoming and perceptive as you, Mom.”

She would have used the word‘naive,’ but that was a little harsh.

“I’m sure that once they get to know Chase, those rumors will go away.”

“I very much doubt it.”

“Well, I don’t,” Mom said breezily as she got out of the boat. A customer had caroled out a loud ‘Yoo-hoo!’

Odelia didn’t share her mother’s optimism. She thought that the moment the story hit the town that Chase Kingsley was a convicted criminal, they’d petition the mayor to get him fired. And if enough people signed that petition, the mayor and Uncle Alec would have no choice but to let him go. Even though until a couple of hours ago she’d believed herself that Chase was a bad person, she now saw that a gross miscarriage of justice had taken place, and that if it wasn’t rectified, this business would haunt him for the rest of his life. And even though the man was as stubborn and pigheaded as anyone she’d ever known, he didn’t deserve that.

With a sigh, she got up and climbed out of the boat. A little girl had run up and was eyeing her a little timidly. Adults usually didn’t go and sit in the children’s boat. She gave the girl a sweet smile and handed her the troll she’d been holding. “The boat is all yours, honey,” she said. “Knock yourself out.”

She watched how the girl and her sister hopped into the boat and started playing with the trolls, then picked up a book and started reading. She smiled, wondering if one day her own kids would be sitting there, with her watching on. She firmly put the thought out of her mind. Until she met the right guy, that wasn’t a prospect she liked to dwell on.

She returned to the front of the library, and was greeted by Gran, who’d been rummaging around between the bookshelves, replacing returned books. She used a small cart to do it, which was now empty. For the occasion she was wearing a long, black coat, claiming there was a draft in the library, and she needed to protect herself. With pink hair peeping from beneath alime-green knit cap she’d placed on her head, she looked like an eighties punk rocker.

Though the weather was warm, Gran rarely left the house without one of an extensive collection of bonnets. She claimed that the winds blowing in from the ocean were worse in the summer than in winter, and that she had to protect herself against catching her death.

“So? Did you catch that killer?” asked Gran.

“Not yet, but I’m getting closer.”

“You better catch him soon. This place ain’t safe with that monster on the loose.”

“I’m sure he or she isn’t going to attack anyone else, Gran,” she promised.

“How would you know? You’re not a killer,” snapped her grandmother. “They might as well be prowling the streets as we speak, looking for their next victim.” She shivered. “I wouldn’t like to cross paths with that beast.”

“You won’t,” she said.

Gran glanced at the late customer who was still browsing. She was the mother of the two girls now happily ensconced in the children’s boat.

“I wish they wouldn’t come in five minutes before closing time,” Gran grumbled. “Don’t they know we’ve got more important things to do?”

“Like what? Playing Scrabble with Dad?”

Lately, Gran and Dad had discovered a mutual fondness for Scrabble. Gran might bitch and moan about Dad, claiming he worked her like a dog, but secretly she liked her son-in-law. She now spent her mornings helping him out by picking up the phone and guiding traffic in the waiting room, and in the afternoon helped out Mom at the library while Dad was on his own.

“I like Scrabble,” she said. “Sue me.”

“I think you like Dad,” she teased. “And Scrabble is just an excuse to spend more time with him.”

“As if!” cried the old lady. “I’m doing him a favor. My time is precious, and I’m a regular saint for devoting so much of it to your dad.” The customer dropped a book and Gran jumped. “Jeez! Wanna give me a heart attack?”

It was obvious this whole murder business had rattled her.“You know this killer will never harm you, right, Gran?” she asked.

“Tell that to the coroner when they haul my body from a cesspit.”

She laughed.“That will never happen.”

Gran glared at her.“Oh? How are you so sure?”

She shrugged.“I just know.”

“Been talking with Max again, have you? Did that cat give you a clue?”

“Not yet, but he’s out there, trying to figure out what happened.”

“Leave it to the cats to solve this crime,” she grunted. “They’re a darn lot more capable than that worthless uncle of yours.”

For some reason, Gran had never been convinced of Uncle Alec’s crime-solving capabilities, and she didn’t mind reminding him of that. She’d always hoped her son would go into politics and become the next mayor of Hampton Cove. That way she could brag to her friends. In her eyes, being a cop was nothing to brag about, apparently.

“I’m sure the Chief is very capable,” Odelia said, taking up her uncle’s defense.

“And I’m sure he’s not. Or that beefcake he’s hired to do his dirty work.”

“Beefcake? You mean Chase Kingsley?”

“I don’t know what he’s called. I just call him Captain Beefcake, on account of the fact that the looks like one of them male models you always see prancing around on the beach.”

The image of Chase prancing around on the beach suddenly flashed before her mind’s eye. She was sure from what she’d seen that the man was all lean muscle, and the image wasn’t one she wanted in her head right now.

Gran eyed her closely.“You’re sweet on the guy, aren’t you? Figures.”

“No, I’m not!”

But Gran wagged a finger in her face.“Let me give you a piece of advice, missy: Captain Hottie Beefcake is trouble with a capital T. Take it from me.”

Gran just might be right for a change, she thought ruefully. If those strange jitters in her belly were anything to go by, she was in big trouble.

Chapter 20

Dinner was served exactly at seven, with the entire Poole clan pitching in. Before dinner, Odelia had slipped over to her place to freshen up a little, and saw that the two cats lay passed out on the couch. They didn’t even stir when she breezed past and then hurried out again. In fact they looked completely bushed, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Usually they slept during the day and spent all night out and about. Today they’d snooped around all day, and were exhausted. She gave them a gentle stroke, andthen left with a smile. She’d talk to them tonight, and see if they’d been able to come up with anything.

She’d opted for linen pants and a black blouse, applying minimal makeup. She refused to go all out, not wanting Detective Kingsley to think she was dressing up for his sake. She didn’t want to reward the man’s arrogance.

They’d prepared a simple meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and veggies, with a side salad, and when their guests finally arrived, the table was set. Before dinner, aperitifs were in order, as Odelia’s dad—and Gran— liked their preprandial drink. When the doorbell rang, and Mom went to open the door, drinks were served even before Uncle Alec and Chase walked in.

Alec, who knew his way around his sister’s place, accepted his usual martini from Dad, who then offered one to Chase, who politely declined.

Odelia, looking on from the kitchen entrance, couldn’t help but notice the detective looked even more handsome than that afternoon. He’d put on a crisply fresh white cotton shirt, snugly fitting jeans low on narrow hips, and his dark brown hair curled across his brow in a sexy sweep. The man could have been an advertisement for a brand of jeans,or an advertisement for whatever. With a muscular frame like that, she’d definitely buy whatever he was selling, and she was pretty sure other women would feel the same way.

Speaking of other women, it didn’t escape her attention that the moment Chase walked into the living room, both Mom and Gran lavished their attention on him. Shaking her head, she picked up her own drink—flat water—and joined her dad and uncle out on the deck. They were already engaged in a conversation about the murder case, with Uncle Alec discussing some of the medical aspects of the case, and Dad providing his professional opinion.

Out in the yard, she saw Harriet languidly enjoying the lowering sun rays, licking her snowy white fur, while a new cat she’d never seen before, looked on. The newcomer was black as night and looked gorgeous. This, she assumed, was Brutus, and the reason Max and Dooley were in such a tizzy. She could see why. A prime specimen like this walking into their lives and stealing the attention of the only female in their small band of three, it was bound to upset the delicate balance that had existed all their lives.

“Black and white. Nice combo,” a sonorous voice spoke behind her. She knew Chase was referring to the cats, but he might as well have been talking about them, with her black blouse and his white shirt.

She squinted at the cats, who only had eyes for each other.“Is it just me but does that big, black cat look like it’s about to pounce on poor Harriet?”

“From where I’m standing it looks like he’s trying to figure out what makes her tick,” Chase said. Turning, she noticed he was clutching a drink, something amber in a tumbler. So either Gran or Mom must have persuaded him to adhere to the Poole house rules and accept an aperitif after all.

“Oh?” she asked. “So he doesn’t strike you as a lecherous creep?”

He grinned and took a sip from his drink.“Nope. He strikes me as a cat who’s in way over his head, and doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.”

Now it was her turn to smile.“That’s what you get when you transport a big-city cat to a small town. They tend to underestimate the locals.”

“Yeah, you just might be right about that,” he grunted. “Though the same can be said for the locals. They tend to completely misjudge newcomers. Assign them all kinds of qualities they don’t remotely possess.”

“And what qualities might that be?” she asked sweetly. “Arrogance? Pigheadedness? Refusal to accept the status quo?”

“You seem to forget that the newcomer has a distinct advantage.”

“And what’s that?”

“The advantage of the outside view. A fresh set of eyes on a situation that may look all too familiar to those who grew up in this town, and might miss the obvious staring them in the face.”

She looked up sharply.“Why do I get the impression we’re not talking about that nasty cat of yours?”

“Nasty?” he asked with a chuckle. “There’s nothing nasty about Brutus.”

“He’s been terrorizing my cats,” she said. “Muscling in on their territory and—” She gestured at Harriet “—persecuting their poor, helpless friend.”

“That Persian doesn’t strike me as helpless,” he said. “On the contrary, she seems to enjoy the attention. In fact she downright revels in it.”

“I think she’s simply intimidated. She probably can’t wait to get away from him but is scared he might become aggressive if she makes a move.”

Now it was his turn to frown.“I’ll have you know that Brutus has never in his life needed to resort to strong-arm tactics to get a female’s attention.”

“Well, he’s not in the big city now, is he? He’s in Hampton Cove, where cats are different and might not respond to him the way he’s used to.”

He laughed.“You’re damn right about that. This place is like nothing I’ve ever seen. For one thing, in New York reporters don’t investigate crime.”

“Well, out here they do, so you better get used to it, Detective.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

She stared at him in surprise. Was he finally seeing things her way?

“Have you interviewed any more suspects?” she asked.

“If I had I wouldn’t tell you,” he said simply.

So much for seeing things her way.“I thought as much. Good thing Uncle Alec keeps me informed, otherwise I’d never be able to nail this killer.”

“Now look here, Miss Poole…”

“No, you look here, Detective. I’m going to catch this killer before you even sniff out your first clue.That’s the way we do things down here.”

“And I’ll have you know, Miss Poole, that you’re in way over your head here. Catching killers is police business, and reporters like you should stick to what they’re good at: writing about mermaids and children’s library wings.”

In spite of herself she had to smile at that. Dan must have posted her articles on the site after she left.“So you’ve been reading my stuff, huh?”

“I have,” he admitted. “I need to soak in the atmosphere so I had to start somewhere. Alec suggested I start with theGazette and take it from there.”

“You forgot about the opening of the new flower shop on Bleecker Street,” she said with a grin. “Possibly some of my best writing to date.”

“You are a great writer,” he admitted. “Which is why you should stick to that, and make sure you keep out of harm’s way.”

“Are you threatening me, Detective?” she asked, her frown returning.

“No, but the killer might, if you get too close.”

“So you’re admitting I’m getting close to solving this case, huh?”

“I’m admitting that you’re not trained to deal with a murderer on the loose, and I’d feel a lot better when you leave the sleuthing to Alec and me.”

They were at a standoff, and stood staring at each other, tension rising. But then Gran stepped in, holding up a tray of hors d’oeuvres and offering one to Chase. “Hors d’oeuvre, Detective Kingsley? I made them myself.”

He finally broke eye contact.“Thanks,” he said, popping one into his mouth.

“Has Odelia been bothering you, Detective?” Gran asked, darting a censorious glance at her granddaughter.

“She’s been making a case for inserting herself into my investigation.”

“Oh, she keeps doing that,” said Gran, clucking her tongue. “She keeps inserting herself where she shouldn’t. That’s the nosy reporter type for you.”

“Gran,” said Odelia warningly. If even her own flesh and blood was turning against her, how could she ever hope to best this overbearing cop?

“What?” asked Gran innocently. “I was just apprising Detective Kingsley of all the facts pertaining to the case. If he’s going to live and work in this town, it’s important he gets the lay of the land.”

“And I, for one, am mighty grateful for that, Mrs…”

“Muffin. Vesta Muffin,” said Gran. “I’m a widow, you know, so if you invited me over for dinner, nobody in town would talk.” She twiddled her ring-free hand in front of Chase, frivolously batting her eyes. “Free as a bird,” she said with a sound that was probably supposed to be a seductive purr but came out like a lascivious growl.

Oh, God, Odelia thought. If Gran was going to throw herself at Chase, the cop’s opinion of her family would sink even lower.

“Thanks for the offer, Mrs. Muffin,” said Chase. “That’s very kind of you.” He was looking slightly bewildered at this unexpected come-on, but Odelia wasn’t liking him well enough to come to his aid. If he thought he could handle killers and murderers so much better than she could he would have no trouble handling a septuagenarian with an overactive libido.

Which reminded her of something. She gestured at the two cats out in the yard.“Is that cat of yours fixed, Detective?”

“Why do you ask?” he asked, visibly glad for the change of topic.

“Because it’s the law. Cats are supposed to be spayed or neutered.”

“Are you afraid Brutus might sow his wild oats?” he quipped with a twinkle in his eye.

“I don’t care about his oats. I’m simply concerned that our new law officer is already breaking the law, one day after arriving in town.”

“Brutus is fixed,” said Chase with a shrug. “So your precious Persian has nothing to worry about.”

“Actually she’smy precious Persian,” said Mom, joining them. She was carrying another tray. “Finger food, Detective Kingsley? I made it myself.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Poole.”

“Marge, please.”

“You’ve got a lovely home here, Marge. And a great family,” he added with an appreciative nod at Odelia and Gran. Faced with three generations of women, it was obvious the cop was enjoying the attention, and the food, though he kept eyeing Gran a little warily as she sidled up to him.

“I like your guns,” she said, licking her lips.

“My… guns?” asked Chase, automatically feeling for his absent holster.

“Do you work out a lot?” she continued, making her point clear.

“Oh, those guns,” he said. “Um, yeah, I like to hit the gym a couple times a week. Matter of trying to stay in shape in case I need to chase a bad guy.”

“I can see how that might be important for a cop,” Gran said, and made a tentative gesture in the direction of Chase’s bicep, but restrained herself at the last moment. “Are you a meat-eater, Chase?”

“Yes, ma’am, as a matter of fact I am. Why, is this a vegan household?”

“No, of course not,” said Mom. “Just the idea. Though Odelia has gone through a vegan episode lately, haven’t you, honey?”

“Ever since she broke up with that no-good loser Sam Scurf.”

“My eating habits got nothing to do with Sam,” she said, mortified. She so didn’t want to discuss her dating life—or the lack thereof—in front of Chase.

“Who’s this Sam?” asked Chase interestedly.

“He was a crook and a loser,” Gran eagerly supplied. “She even brought him home once, and next thing we knew he’d embezzled half a million dollars from Armstrong& Tillich Bank. They caught him, though, and threw his ass in the slammer. But then Odelia always had lousy taste in men.”

She glared at her grandmother, but the old lady ignored her.“She once dated a cop, you know. Appalachian. Until Alec discovered he was wanted in a dozen states and had supplied false credentials.” She shook her snowy white head. “Always dating the bad guys, our poor Odelia.”

Odelia raised her eyes to the heavens, praying that Gran would lay off already, but the stories seemed to amuse and entertain, for Chase asked,“Any other known criminals she dated?”

“Oh, plenty, but if I told you I’d have to kill you,” Gran said with a grin, and then she did attach herself to Chase’s arm and gave his bicep a squeeze. “Oh, my. How much did you say you curled, Chase?”

“I, um…”

Even Mom now seemed to see the warning signs, for she swept in and took Gran into the house.“Let’s freshen up a little before dinner, shall we?”

“I don’t need freshening up,” Gran sputtered. “I’m fresh as a daisy.”

Chase seemed relieved at the removal of his stalker, and nodded at the house where the two women disappeared inside.“She’s a feisty one, that grandmother of yours.”

“Feisty and horny,” said Odelia before she could stop herself. She slapped a hand in front of her mouth, mortified. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

Chase laughed, and she watched as twin dimples appeared on his cheeks. They made the already outrageously handsome cop look even more irresistible, and she admonished herself that after dating all the‘bad guys’ of her past, like Gran had indicated, she didn’t need to add another one to the list. The others might all have turned out to be crooks, but she had the distinct impression Chase Kingsley might give them a run for their money.

“Dinner is served!” Mom called out at that moment, and just in time, too, for Odelia had run out of things to say without making a total and utter fool of herself. Dinner at the Pooles had always been a demonstration in humiliation for her when there were men around, and tonight proved no exception. She just hoped they’d make it through dinner without Gran throwing herself at Chase, or providing a play-by-play of her granddaughter’s disastrous dating life or both.

Chapter 21

Chase didn’t stay after dinner, no matter how much Gran would have wanted it. He claimed he still had work to do, and Odelia wondered if he was referring to the Frey case. She’d wanted to pick his brain, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to allow her to do so. She tried to turn the conversation to themurder, but Chase had brushed off all her attempts, much to Uncle Alec’s amusement, who’d taken his new prot?g?’s cue and also decided to keep this dinner Frey-free. Usually he enjoyed discussing ongoing cases over dinner, but apparently tonight he’d decided not to talk shop in front of Chase.

She just hoped this wouldn’t be the new normal, or else she’d have a lot less stuff to write about in the paper.

Chase quickly excused himself, and when Uncle Alec and Dad settled themselves on the couch to watch a football game, she suddenly felt an uncharacteristic fatigue sweep over her. All this trudging around today had made her long for a good night’s sleep, and after finishing the wash-up with Mom and Gran, who both couldn’t get enough of gabbing about Chase, she bade her family goodnight and returned home.

She checked on Max and Dooley, but they were still passed out, and she decided not to disturb them. Tomorrow was another day, and they could resume their sleuthing efforts with renewed vigor. She was out like a light before her head even hit the pillow and may or may not have dreamed of handsome hunky cops warding off nosy reporters from their investigation.

The next morning, she drove to the office and parked her car. After checking her emails, she decided to walk down to the police station. She needed to check that laptop, to see if there were any clues to other enemies Frey might have made. When she arrived, she was surprised to find Chase already there. He was seated in front of Frey’s laptop, intently staring at the screen, his hulking frame dwarfing one of the chairs in the evidence room. The rest of the evidence was spread out across the table, and when she walked in Chase didn’t look up. Instead, he growled, “Morning, Miss Poole.”

“How did you even know I was coming in?” she asked, her eye falling on the poker that indeed had a slight dent in it.

“Your uncle told me about the invitation he extended you,” he said a little gruffly, and she wondered if he’d been up all night, going over the evidence.

“Yes, well, I thought perhaps there was more evidence to be found on Frey’s laptop.” She hesitated, then decided not to hold back. Chase might not be willing to share, but she wasn’t going to be so stingy. “After I talked to Gabby Cleret and Aissa Spring, I checked Frey’s social media pages.”

“And?”

“Well, turns out Paulo Frey was doing his darndest to earn himself the prize for the world’s nastiest social media troll. The guy actively trolled women and gays, and was engaged in online warfare with dozens of people.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Chase said, taking a break from checking the laptop.

She drew up a chair.“So I figure that maybe whoever killed him might have been one of his victims. Someone who decided enough was enough.”

He stared at her.“And you hoped to find a lead on his laptop?”

She nodded.“There’s only so much you can glean from a public Facebook page. If I could use his laptop to log into his accounts, I’ll bet I’d find a treasure trove of stuff, and maybe a lead to his killer.”

“Just what I was thinking,” he admitted. “Which is why I’ve been going over his laptop half the night.”

She didn’t know why, but the fact that they’d shared the same idea somehow gave her a little thrill of excitement. “And? What did you find?”

“So far, nothing good,” he said with a shake of the head. “You called it when you said the guy was a hardened troll. Which is surprising for a writer of his stature. You would think he’d be afraid it would affect his sales.”

“Did he have another account? In a different name, perhaps? An alias?”

“If he did, I haven’t found it,” he said, scooting over to allow her access to the computer. This greatly surprised her. Was he inviting her to actively join the investigation? Perhaps her mom’s cooking had changed his opinion about nosy reporters whose last name is Poole?

“Did you check his emails?”

“I checked a bunch of them, but there are thousands and thousands. To get through all of them will be a Sisyphus job.”

“Then we better get cracking,” she said with a grimace.

“Be my guest,” he said, rising. “Coffee?”

“Black,” she said, cracking her knuckles. Frey’s laptop looked a little dilapidated, but then any laptop would, after spending a year soaked in human waste. It was a miracle the thing was still functioning. While Chase spent the next hour holed up in Uncle Alec’s office for their morning briefing, she went through Frey’s emails, checked his browser history, and generally tried to get a sense of what the guy had been up to in the weeks before his death. And it was when she checked his bookmarks that she hit the jackpot. Apparently he’d been a member of some kind of cyber-vigilante group called the Army of No, Frey clearly one of its ringleaders and moderators.

As soon as she logged into their private forum, she discovered he’d been extremely active coordinating what he called campaigns against degenerates, conducting online warfare on anyone and anything he disapproved of. She found the conversations that had launched the coordinated campaign against Gabby Cleret, but it quickly became clear to her that the Army of No mainly sought out gays and transgenders and outed them online, posting their pictures and causing trouble for them.

“Check this out,” she said when Chase finally joined her. “This Army of No actually revealed the identities of over a dozen gays and transgenders to their communities, no doubt causing a lot of trouble for these people.”

He read a few of the exchanges and shook his head.“This is so much worse than trolling,” he finally said. “This is actual criminal behavior.”

She pointed at the screen.“I’ll bet one of these victims decided to get even, and bashed Frey’s head in.”

“But how did they even know he was behind these attacks? This entire group was working in complete anonymity, and Frey’s name is never even mentioned.”

Chase was right. Frey’s involvement with the group was a strict secret, all the members using aliases. Frey’s was TransKiller, as he seemed to have developed a particular distaste toward transgenders, and singled them out.

“Someone must have found out,” she said.

“We have to compile a list of all the victims,” Chase said.

She gave him an amused look.“Are we actually working this investigation together now, Detective Kingsley?”

He shrugged.“I’m starting to see that if I’m ever going to fit in in this town, I better adapt to the way things are done around here. And from what Chief Alec’s been telling me you’re a great researcher, so…”

“So you’re allowing me to take part in the investigation?”

He studied her for a moment.“I’m drawing the line at you going out there and interviewing suspects—actively pursuing leads. But this…” He gestured at the laptop. “This is analyst’s work, and I don’t see why you can’t give us your two cents. It’s not as if there’s any danger involved.”

Annoyed, she said,“So I’m being relegated to playing second fiddle, huh? You actually want to keep me from going out there and doing my job?”

“Doingmy job,” he corrected her tersely. “Interviewing suspects is police business, Miss Poole. And so is following leads. What would you do if a suspect turns violent? Or, God forbid, you actually confront the killer and he turns the tables on you? You don’t have a gun and even if you did, you’re not trained to protect yourself.” He shook his head adamantly. “You’re not qualified and I want you off the street. Your uncle Alec feels the same way.”

“I very much doubt that,” she insisted.

“Look, I’m cutting you a lot of slack here,” he said, gesturing at the computer. “And to be honest, I still think this is a bad idea.”

“Well, thanks for nothing,” she said, and quickly got up.

Just then, her uncle stuck his head through the door.“Frey’s publisher is here. You want to be present while I do the interview? You too, Odelia,” he said with a pointed look at Chase, who emitted an exasperated groan.

“I’m happy that someone appreciates my help,” she said as she breezed past Chase and followed her uncle out of the small evidence room. On the way over to his office, she saw that Rohanna was busy cleaning the vestibule, moving and shaking to the music, as usual, and singing along to some unheard tune. She smiled. At least someone was having fun around here.

The interview with the publisher didn’t take long. The man had been in town to pick up Frey’s belongings that had been released, like his clothes, his suitcases and the printed-out copy of his manuscript. Uncle Alec was going to hang on to the laptop for a little while longer. When questioned why Frey’s family didn’t collect the writer’s stuff, he said Frey was estranged from his family, and he was all he had. The publisher hadn’t been happy with Frey, either, for he’d been having trouble finishing his new book, apparently too busy with his Army of No and his trolling to spend time writing.

When the interview was over, Chase and Odelia returned to the evidence. The moment she stepped inside, she clutched Chase’s arm. “The laptop!”

“What?” Then his eyes swiveled to the table. “Oh, Christ.”

The laptop they’d left on the table was gone.

The cop cursed under his breath, and instantly rushed out, Odelia right behind him. But when he asked Dolores, the dispatcher said no one else had been in there, and that she definitely hadn’t touched that laptop.

Odelia stared around, and her eye fell on Rohanna, who was now busy dusting off a cabinet in the corner of the vestibule. It held pictures of Chief Alec holding up a very large bass, and several of his fishing trophies. She approached the cleaner, and when she tapped her on the shoulder, Rohanna started, and took out her earbuds.“Hey, honey. Everything all right?”

“Have you seen anyone pass by here? Something went missing from the evidence room,” she explained.

But the cleaning lady shook her head.“I haven’t exactly been paying attention. But I don’t think I’ve seen anyone. Why don’t you ask Dolores?”

She nodded, and quickly darted a glance at Rohanna’s rolling cart. No sign of a laptop, of course. She dropped the crazy notion. “Thanks,” she said, and shook her head at Chase, who’d been watching from a distance.

Judging from his frown, or the way he’d folded his arms across his chest, he wasn’t happy about this. “I should have locked that room,” he said now, as they walked back to the evidence room. “Never leave evidence unattended. It’s the first rule,” he added, scowling at her, as if he personally blamed her.

“What?” she asked. “Is this my fault now? I didn’t take that computer.”

“I know you didn’t. But someone did. Someone snuck in here, managed to get past Dolores unseen, and snuck back out.”

Rohanna’s eye traveled to the window, which was open and didn’t have any bars, like all the windows in the police office. “Do you think they might have gotten in through there?”

They both moved over to the window, and Chase opened it all the way so they could lean out. The view wasn’t anything to write home about: a small patch of wasteland that once had been intended for a parking lot, but now was just a tangle of weeds. Someone could easily have come through there, hopped in through the window and absconded with that laptop. But who?

“It might have been thieves,” she suggested. “Kids wanting a free laptop.”

But Chase shook his head grimly.“I doubt it.”

“Yeah, actually so do I. Whoever stole that laptop must have known it contained information that might lead us to the killer.”

He fixed her with a serious look.“Whoever took that laptop just might be the killer.”

And even though she rarely saw eye to eye with the burly cop, she had to admit he was probably right this time. Which meant the killer must have been watching them, following the investigation. Which also meant that the killer… was one of them. Not an outsider, but someone from Hampton Cove.

Chapter 22

I woke up feeling refreshed, and stretched happily. I couldn’t remember having slept this great in quite a while. I opened one eye, saw that Dooley was still occupying the other side of the couch, and closed my eye again. Maybe I could squeeze in a couple hours more, now that I was going so well. But then I suddenly remembered Clarice’s startling revelation of the previous day. She’d actually revealed the identity of the murderer! And we hadn’t even told Odelia! Instantly, I was wide awake, and gave Dooley a poke.

He mumbled,“Juss… lemme… sleep… zzz.”

I prodded him again, hissing,“We have to tell Odelia who the killer is!”

He opened his eyes lazily.“Huh? Killer? What are you talking about?”

“The killer! The Paulo Frey thing!”

He smacked his lips, then yawned, and as I watched, I could practically see his brain booting up, and grasping the meaning of my words. His eyes snapped open, and he sat up with a jerk.“The killer! We have to tell Odelia!”

“That’s what I just said,” I grumbled.

I hopped gracefully from the couch and stretched my back, then strode languidly over to the stairs and started making my way upstairs. When I didn’t find Odelia in the bedroom, I realized time had gotten away from us, and she’d already left. It was a lot later than I’d thought!

“She’s gone,” I said when Dooley sauntered into the bedroom. We both trotted down the stairs again, and were about to leave through the pet door when two cats came barging in. They were the last cats I wanted to see: Harriet and… Brutus. I leveled a disapproving look at the latter. This time he’d gone too far. “Brutus, this is my house, and I want you out of here.”

Brutus gave me one of his trademark infuriating grins.“Wow, wow, wow. Now hold it right there, Maxie. Keep it cool, buddy. I’ve come in peace.”

“We’ve decided to offer you a peace treaty, Max,” Harriet explained.

“So now you’re on his side, are you?” asked Dooley bitterly. He gave her a glowering look. “You’re dead to me, Harriet. And you too, Brutus.”

“Let’s not say things we don’t mean, Dooley,” said Harriet, clearly the negotiator in this standoff.

“Oh, but I mean them, all right,” said Dooley.

“You’re dead to me, too,” I told Harriet. “Collusion with the enemy is not something we treat lightly, Harriet. You’re not part of this family anymore.”

“You’re being very immature, Max. And you, too, Dooley. We’re all grownups here, so let’s act like it.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Dooley.

She rolled her expressive eyes.“Look. Last night at dinner it was pretty obvious that Odelia and Chase are developing feelings for each other.”

“I think the word lovebird is appropriate here,” growled Brutus.

Harriet gave her new mate an adoring look.“They were exactly like lovebirds, weren’t they?”

“They sure were, honey pie. Just like us.”

“Oh, sugar plum,” she cooed.

I thought I was going to be sick.“What’s all this about last night?”

“Well, since you weren’t there, you didn’t see it, did you?” asked Harriet primly. “But Odelia and Chase made the loveliest couple.”

I exchanged a look of panic with Dooley.“Couple?” I croaked.

“Lovebirds?” squeaked Dooley, on the verge of a panic attack.

“Yeah, you should have seen them,” grunted Brutus with a chuckle. “Your regular Romeo and Juliet. Anyways, where were you guys last night?”

“None of your business,” I snapped.

“If you have to know, we were investigating,” said Dooley haughtily.

“Investigating?” scoffed Brutus. “In your sleep? Some investigation!”

“For your information, we cracked this case wide open,” said Dooley.

“Dooley,” I said warningly.

“You cracked the case?” asked Brutus. “You mean you caught the killer?”

“We most certainly did,” Dooley confirmed.

“Dooley!” I said. “Shut up!”

“Yeah, shut up, Dooley,” said Brutus. “Cause I’m pretty sure there’s nothing to tell.”

“We know exactly who the killer is,” said Dooley, ignoring the anxious looks I was giving him, “because we found a witness to the crime.”

At this point, Harriet asked,“You talked to a witness? Who was it?”

“Don’t tell her, Dooley,” I told him. “This is for Odelia’s ears only. Besides, I thought she was dead to you?”

“She is dead to me,” Dooley confirmed, “but as long as she keeps asking me questions I can’t not answer, can I? That would be just plain rude.”

“Entering the house of another cat when you’re not invited is rude,” I said with a pointed look at Brutus. “And so is colluding with the enemy,” I added with a nasty glance at Harriet.

“Oh, I’m invited, all right,” said Brutus. “Ain’t that right, honey bunch?”

“I invited him,” said Harriet. “This is my house, too.”

“You’ve got some nerve,” I said, shaking my head.

“I don’t see why we can’t all live together,” said Harriet now, sounding like a seventies hit song. “Why we can’t all simply get along and be friends.”

“Because Brutus is a bully and a brute, and bullies and brutes don’t get along with non-bullying brutes like us,” said Dooley.

“Kicking a friend out of your house is kind of a brutish move, buddy,” said Brutus.

“You’re not my friend,” I said stubbornly.

“A friend of a friend is a friend,” he riposted.

“Well, since Harriet is dead to me that makes you…” I hesitated. This was all getting very confusing. “Anyway, I don’t want you here so that’s that.”

Brutus grinned, displaying two sets of very sharp teeth. He patted my cheek with his paw.“Maxie. Baby. Your human and my human are inches away from getting it on, which makes us more than friends. The moment those two lovebirds move in together you and me are gonna be brothers, bubba! We be shacking up together. We be like homies, bro!”

“Yes, Max,” gushed Harriet. “You should have seen Odelia and Chase last night. So Brutus is right. Very soon now we’re all going to be living together, so why don’t you let bygones be bygones and welcome him into our family?”

“Over my dead body,” I growled, shaking off Brutus’s paw.

Brutus moved in, and whispered in my ear,“That can be arranged.”

I glared at him.“Why don’t I simply tell Odelia I don’t want you here?”

“Yeah!” cried Dooley. “Maybe she’ll make Chase give you away!”

“In your dreams, buddy,” growled Brutus.

“Odelia listens to what we tell her,” I said. “And if we tell her we don’t want you here, she’ll give Chase an ultimatum: either get all loved-up and cuddly on her couch and watchCops together, or get rid of his furball.” I gave Brutus a sweet smile. “I wonder which way Chase is going to lean.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, but I could see a hint of doubt in his eyes. He’d probably never met a cat that could make himself understood by his human before, and it wasn’t a gift he shared with us. He’d have no way of pleading with Chase to keep him, and I was pretty sure that if Dooley and I put our collective paws down, it was bye-bye Brutus.

“You wouldn’t do that,” said Harriet, aghast.

“Oh, but I most definitely would.”

“He’s bluffing,” said Brutus, giving me a nasty glare. “He’s just trying to come between us, sweetie pie, and it’ll never work.”

Harriet seemed doubtful, though. She knew what we were capable of when push came to shove. But she seemed to make up her mind and lifted her chin.“If you tell Odelia you don’t want Brutus here, I’ll tell her that I do want him here. That will make her think twice.”

“You wouldn’t do that!” I cried.

“Watch me,” she hissed, narrowing her beautiful green eyes.

Dooley seemed even more taken aback.“You wouldn’t go against family!”

“Of course not,” she said sweetly, “since Brutus is my family now.” She stared at the big, black cat adoringly. “He’s got qualities no other cat has.”

“Like what?!” cried Dooley. “The fact that he still got his… nuts? Well, I can fix that. We talked to Odelia and soon it’s gonna be nuts on the nuts!”

“For your information,” said Brutus haughtily, “my… situation is perfectly legal, thank you very much. A policeman’s cat has to set an example, so naturally I’m in compliance with the applicable penal code.”

“Huh?” asked Dooley, not comprehending.

“Brutus is fixed,” huffed Harriet, “and I can’t believe you’d stoop so low.”

We both stared at Brutus.“You’re fixed?” I asked. “But how…”

“Why the surprise, fellas? These days all the cool cats are fixed.” He gestured at us. “And a couple of losers, too, of course, to balance things out.”

“But how can you be so… buff, and still be fixed?” asked Dooley.

“Being a real hombre got nothing to do with what’s going on down there,” said Brutus, taking on the air of a mentor teaching his mentees a few life lessons. “Being a cat’s cat has to do with attitude, and the knowledge that you’re a superior being, not with the size of your… equipment.”

I gave a snort.“You’re definitely not a superior being.”

“Oh, but he most certainly is,” said Harriet, moving over to her new mate and stropping against him seductively. “The stamina this cat got? You wouldn’t believe it!”

“Say it, girl.”

“I am saying it and saying it loud and proud.”

“Now growl it.”

Harriet growled, and Dooley and I threw up in our mouths.

“I’m gonna be sick,” I told Dooley.

“Me, too,” he confessed.

The cooing and lovebirding that followed was enough to make us both gag, and I knew this was going to prove a tougher fight than we’d anticipated. Not only had Brutus invaded our space and seduced our friend, but with Harriet he had gained a powerful ally to convince Odelia to accept him into our home. Odelia loved Dooley and me, but she simply adored Harriet. Everybody did. Because of that snowy white fur people always thought she was the most beautiful creature they’d ever seen, and would stop at nothing to give her what she wanted. If Harriet wanted Brutus introduced into the home, Odelia would do it, against my and Dooley’s protestations.

Unless… I gave Dooley a nudge. “Let’s skedaddle, buddy. We have a human to find and a job to do.”

“But we can’t leave these two here!” he cried. “This is our home!”

“And now it’s mine,” said Brutus with a smirk, and proceeded to stalk over to the couch, hop on, and make himself comfortable in my spot! Then he patted the space beside him. “Hop on, baby cheeks. Let’s have a party.”

Harriet giggled, and without waiting for my approval, hopped onto the couch, stretched out luxuriously, and lovingly gazed into her new mate’s eyes.

“Oh, crap,” I muttered. “I can’t take any more of this.” And I hurried out the pet door, Dooley in my wake. And as we rounded the house and made our way to the street, I said, “We have to do something about this.”

“But what can we do? You heard Harriet. She’ll vouch for him.”

“I’ve got the perfect idea, Dooley,” I assured him. “We’ll simply tell Odelia we know who the killer is, but if she wants us to reveal the identity, first she has to kick that brute out of our house.”

“You mean blackmail?” asked Dooley, eyes widening.

“Let’s just call it a bargaining chip.”

He brightened.“I think it’s a great idea! Do you think she’ll go for it?”

“I’m sure she will. She’s desperate to find that killer, so she’ll give us whatever we want in exchange for the information.”

We hurried along, now on a mission to save our home from this intruder. Harriet was nursing a viper at her bosom, and we needed to shift him.

“I can’t believe Harriet,” Dooley lamented. “Who would have thought she’d betray us like this?”

“That’s kitties for you,” I said. “They see a handsome tom and they forget all about you.”

“I thought she was our friend,” said Dooley dejectedly.

“Well, she’s our friend no more,” I said with determination. “This is war, Dooley, and since she’s colluding with the enemy that makes her our enemy, too.”

“The enemy of our enemy is our enemy, right?”

I thought about this for a moment.“Not exactly.”

Five minutes later, we strolled into the offices of the Gazette, and were surprised to find that Odelia wasn’t there, seated at her desk as usual.

“Where is she?” asked Dooley. Then he gave me a horrified look. “Don’t tell me! She’s probably holed up with Chase Kingsley, making out on his couch, just like Harriet and Brutus!”

“I don’t think so,” I said musingly. “Chase is staying at Uncle Alec’s place, and Odelia making out on her uncle’s couch seems… inappropriate.”

“They might have rented a room! Humans do that kind of stuff!”

“Not so soon. It takes a lot longer for humans to get their groove on than with us cats.” Last time we saw Odelia she hated Chase Kingsley’s guts, and I didn’t think one family dinner would have made such a big difference, no matter what Brutus or Harriet said. I knew Odelia, and even though she’d brought home some weird specimens, she never kissed on the first date. “Let’s check her other haunts,” I said now. “I’ll bet she’s over at the doctor’s office.”

But when we went there, there was no sign of Odelia either. We stopped by the library next, and finally headed over to the police station. Now that Brutus had taken over my home, the station house was safe terrain once more. Brutus might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t capable of being in two places at the same time. When we hopped onto our usual perch on Chief Alec’s windowsill, my heart leaped with joy when I saw Odelia holed up in there with her uncle and… Chase Kingsley. But just as we arrived, she left.

So we did the only thing a smart cat would do: we simply barged into Chief Alec’s office through the window, plopped down on the man’s desk, and, before his surprised eyes, hopped down and tripped after Odelia.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the chief grunted, then bellowed, “Odelia! Your cats are here!”

Odelia turned back, and was all smiles when she caught sight of us.

“Oh, hey, darlings,” she said as she bent down and gave us a cuddle. “Finally up and awake, huh?”

“Oh, Odelia, we have so much to tell you!” Dooley cried.

“Yeah, we know who the killer is!” I added.

She gave us both a keen look but quickly rose again, and I immediately saw why: we were being watched with interest by Detective Kingsley.

“Are these your cats?” the burly cop asked.

“Yeah, they’re mine,” she said with a smile.

“And they just come barging in here like that?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Your cat comes barging into our house, buddy!” Dooley yelled.

But all Chase could hear was Dooley’s plaintive mewling, of course.

“Um…” Odelia stared down at me. I could see she was eager to listen to our story, but she couldn’t very well do it now, with Chase and Uncle Alec watching on. To them it would sound like she was meowing, and might give the wrong impression. So instead she merely said, “Yeah, they’re very attached to me. Sometimes they just follow me around all day long.”

“So you’re not just a nosy reporter but a crazy cat lady too, huh?” he asked.

Odelia scowled at him, and I was happy to see that the two of them weren’t an item. And if my extensive knowledge of human nature was anything to go by, it would take them a while to get to that point, if ever.

“If I’m a cat lady, what does that make you? Crazy cat dude?” she asked.

Chase opened his mouth to respond, but he momentarily seemed lost for words, so he simply closed it again, and Odelia took the opportunity to stalk out of the office. Chief Alec, who’d laughed loudly at his niece’s comment, now said, “Shoo. Follow the lady, cats,” and sent Dooley and me on our way.

I was pretty sure he was one of the few people who knew about Odelia’s ability to talk to us, and I was glad he hadn’t betrayed that secret to Chase. At least one person in this family wasn’t selling out to the newcomers in town.

Dooley and I tripped after Odelia and joined her in a small empty office. The moment the door closed, she turned to us, and said,“I think I know who did it.” And when she told us the name, both Dooley and I were surprised to find that she’d discovered the murderer’s identity all on her own. When we confirmed that she was right on the money, she smiled. “Now to prove it…”

After she had left, Dooley and I shook our heads in dismay.

“There goes our bargaining chip,” Dooley lamented.

“Dayum,” I said, then slapped my face. Now I was starting to sound like Brutus.

Chapter 23

After the disappearance of the laptop, it didn’t take Odelia long to figure out that her initial theory had been correct: there was something on that laptop that revealed the identity of the killer. And then it dawned on her. The Army of No. She quickly took out her phone and started googling. It was just a hunch, but her hunches often proved correct, so…

The mention of this Army of No had stirred a memory of a horrific event that had taken place a couple of years ago. Her father had been marginally involved at the time, and she’d even written an article about the tragedy.

She now walked into Chief Alec’s office and placed her phone on his desk and tapped it. “Check this out, Chief.”

Her uncle quickly read the page indicated, and stared up at her.“No.”

She nodded.“Yes.”

“What’s going on?” asked Chase, mystified by this exchange.

Her uncle gave her a slight nod, as he settled back in his chair and gazed out the window for a moment. She took a deep breath before launching into her story.“A couple of years ago, a young teenage boy was struggling with his sexual identity, and finally confessed to his mom that even though he’d been born a boy, in his heart he felt like a girl. After a lot of soul-searching, they finally consulted my dad, who advised they talk to a friend of his, a renowned psychologist in Bridgehampton. They did, and over the course of the next couple of months became convinced that going through the transition was the right thing to do. The boy was still in high school, so they decided to wait until after graduation so that nobody would be any the wiser. He didn’t want to attract attention to himself, and make a difficult and sensitive situation even harder.”

“I remember the case,” said the chief gruffly. “Poor kid.”

“What happened?” asked Chase.

“Everything was going as planned, when suddenly the boy was outed on his school’s Facebook page, pictures of him exiting the clinic where he’d been going posted and the whole story being displayed for the whole school to see. It was a serious blow to the boy and his single mother, but they thought they could overcome it. But then the taunting started, and the name calling and the nasty comments wherever he went. Finally, the boy couldn’t take it anymore and…” Her voice broke.

“It’s all right, hon,” said her uncle. “I’ll tell the story if you want.”

She shook her head, and continued,“A little over two years ago, when his mother came home from work, she found him in his room, hanging from a rope, a note on his desk telling her he was sorry to have caused her so much trouble, and that the world was much better off without him.”

“Christ, that’s horrible,” said Chase, distractedly raking his fingers through his hair.

“Paulo Frey was behind the outing of the kid. I’m sure of it. I googled the affair, and the initial post and the pictures on the school page were posted by the Society of No. I think the boy’s mother discovered that Frey was behind it. That he was the one responsible for her son’s torment and death, and that in a fit of rage she decided to take revenge and killed him.”

“Who was this kid?” asked Chase now.

The Chief and Odelia shared a knowing glance, and finally the Chief said,“Luke Coral. Rohanna Coral’s boy.”

Chase’s eyebrows rose. “Rohanna as in… the cleaning lady?”

“I think you’ll find that the laptop is in her cleaning bucket,” said Odelia. “She must have heard it was here and wanted to make sure we wouldn’t find out about Frey and the Society of No and make the connection with her boy.”

“We better have a little talk with her,” said the Chief now, and swiftly rose from behind his desk. And as they made to leave the office, Max and Dooley suddenly came barging in through the window, hopped onto the chief’s desk, and announced to Odelia they had discovered the identity of the killer.

Instead of threshing this thing out in front of Chase and Uncle Alec, she ushered them into an empty office, and when they told her that Clarice had seen Rohanna drag the body of Paulo Frey into the cesspit that day, she had her confirmation. Now there was no doubt Rohanna Coral was the killer.

She hurried out of the office and told her uncle,“It’s Rohanna, all right. We have to get her before she destroys the evidence on that computer.”

“How…” asked Chase, a confused frown on his face.

“Like you said, I’m a cat lady,” she said. “Cats inspire me. Now are you coming or not?”

Without waiting for a response, she sprinted down the corridor to the vestibule, but Rohanna was nowhere to be found.

“Have you seen Rohanna?” she asked Dolores.

“Yeah, she left about twenty minutes ago,” said Dolores.

She quickly went in search of the cleaning trolley, and found it in the small room where they kept the cleaning supplies. The bucket was still filled with soapy water and she plunged her hands in.“Nothing,” she grunted. Of course. She looked up when Chase joined her. “She took the laptop.”

“Let’s go,” he said curtly.

“I’ll wait here, just in case she comes back,” her uncle said.

She and Chase flew out the front door, and ran for their cars. Only now did she remember she’d parked hers in front of the Gazette. She eyed Chase’s dilapidated truck a little uncertainly. “Does that thing drive?”

“Like the wind,” he assured her. “Hop in.”

“Hand me the keys. I’ll drive.”

He hesitated.

“I know where she lives.”

After a moment’s deliberation, he tossed her the keys. “You better not wreck my ride.”

“No much left to wreck,” she said, and got behind the wheel. Then, just when she was about to back out of the parking spot, Max and Dooley came running up. She quickly opened the door and they scooted in.

“You really are a cat lady,” said Chase with a shake of the head.

“I’ll just take that as a compliment,” she said, and then put the car in reverse and backed away from the curb, almost colliding with another car that was passing. “Oops,” she said, then punched the accelerator, and raced away, tires spinning for purchase and burning rubber.

Chase appeared a little startled.“Do you always drive like this?”

“Only when I’m trying to catch a killer,” she said through gritted teeth.

She raced Chase’s ride through town, running a red light, which caused the cop to give her a censorious look but no comment, then a second light, which caused him to say, “I knew I should never have given you those keys.”

They arrived at Rohanna’s place, and she jumped the curb, causing the underbody of the old truck to loudly grind in protest. Chase winced but said nothing, and they both hurried out and up the stairs. Rohanna lived on the second floor of a small housing project, and she quickly led the way.

Chase rang the bell and followed up with a good hammering of his fist on the flimsy door.“Hampton Cove Police, ma’am. Please open this door.”

When there was no response, he drew his weapon and motioned for Odelia to stand back. Then he placed his foot against the door and gave it a good shove. The wood around the lock splintered and the door caved and then they were racing inside, Chase the first one through.

It didn’t take him long to declare the place completely empty.

When they met at what was left of the front door, Odelia was thinking hard. Where could she have gone? It was hardly feasible she would have simply continued with her regular schedule. Or was it? In that case, she’d be cleaning her dad’s office right now. She glanced over at Chase.

“What?” he asked, holstering his gun. “Where is she?”

She shook her head.“My best guess is my dad’s office.”

Chase gave her a meaningful glance, and then they both raced back to the car. A couple of minutes and only one traffic violation later, she halted the car in front of the doctor’s office with screeching tires, causing Chase to wince yet again. You’d think the man would have gotten used to her driving style by now. Barging inside, they walked straight up to the counter, where they were met by a grinning Gran. She looked delighted at this surprise visit.

“Hey there, Detective Kingsley. The doctor is busy, but if you want you can go over to examination room number two, and he can squeeze you in.”

“Is Rohanna here?” asked Odelia, who had no time for this.

“Never saw her,” said Gran. “Not that I miss her. Who needs a singing cleaning lady that can’t clean? Or sing?” Turning to Chase, she plastered a smile on her wrinkled face. “Go on and strip down to your tighty whities. And if the doc can’t see you immediately I’m sure I can accommodate you.”

“In your dreams,” growled Chase, and waltzed out again.

“Was it something I said?” yelled Gran, leaning over the counter to stare at Chase’s retreating behind.

“Not now, Gran,” she called out, leaving the lady looking disappointed.

They both got back to the car, and Odelia saw that this time Chase was behind the wheel. When she glared at him, he said,“Hey, you got to drive the last time. Now it’s my turn. Besides, I don’t want anyone else to get killed.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a great driver,” she grumbled, getting into the passenger seat. She thought for a moment. Where would Rohanna take that laptop? She’d thought she’d hidden it in that cesspit, until a nosy writer had dug it out and uncovered a crime. Now she would have to put it where no one would ever look. And then suddenly she got it. “The graveyard,” she said.

He lifted an eyebrow.“The graveyard? Are you sure?”

“Trust me. Now just go!”

And go he did, at a surprising rate of speed. Following her instructions, it didn’t take him long to arrive at the small graveyard, and they both jumped out of the car, which Chase had parallel parked to perfection in front of the iron gates. The man had skills. If he didn’t make it as a detective in this town, he could always become a valet.

His strong arm held her back before she could rush into the graveyard.

“Let me go first,” he said, and took out his gun again.

She nodded her agreement. Never argue with a man with a gun.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” he asked.

“This is where Luke Coral was buried. I have a hunch it’s where Rohanna is going to bury that laptop.”

Chase gave her a curt nod of the head.“Stay behind me. This woman has killed once, she might do it again when cornered.”

“I doubt she has a gun, Detective.”

He gave her a grim look.“Better safe than sorry. You might be a pesky reporter and a cat lady, but that doesn’t mean I want to see you killed. And definitely not on my watch.”

“I think that’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s go!”

They moved stealthily through the wrought-iron gates and entered the graveyard, which consisted of gravestones dotting a smooth stretch of gently sloping lawn. Some of them were crooked and weathered with age, others looked newer. She hadn’t been here in a while, the last time when she’d accompanied her gran to put flowers on her granddad’s grave. When she heard plaintive mewls behind her, she saw that Max and Dooley had followed them into the graveyard. They didn’t look happy. This was not their favorite hangout, she suspected, and they’d rather be home right now. So would she.

Chase gave her a quick glance, and she gestured with her hand. She knew exactly where Rohanna’s boy was buried, as she’d attended his funeral. In fact most of Hampton Cove had. Luke had been a sweet kid and well-liked, and if not for those few bullies who’d made his life miserable, he might still be alive today. It was a tragedy, but that still didn’t give Rohanna the right to killthe man she held responsible. They approached the plot where Luke was buried, or Lucia, as he’d apparently been wanted to be known, and they had a clear view of his gravestone, but of Rohanna there was no trace.

“It’s right there,” she whispered, pointing at the grave.

She stared down at the stone, and then saw that the earth had been disturbed behind it, as if someone had been digging. She knelt down, and after a moment’s hesitation dug her hands in. Suddenly her fingers touched a solid object, and when she came away, she was holding the laptop.

She held it out to Chase, who grunted,“Good job.”

Wow. Another compliment? This was practically a love fest.

But then suddenly she saw Rohanna looming up behind the cop, a heavy rock in her hand. And as she held up the rock, heaving it over Chase’s head, she screamed, “Chase! Watch out!” But it was too late, and Rohanna would have knocked out Chase if not suddenly Max and Dooley had launched themselves at the woman, scratching her across the face and hands with mighty hissing sounds, their claws extended.

Rohanna yelled in pain and dropped the rock, reaching for her face.

Instantly, Chase whirled around, and easily worked his attacker to the ground, then slapped a pair of handcuffs on the woman.

“Thanks,” Odelia mouthed to Max and Dooley, who appeared extremely proud of themselves and their work in apprehending the Paulo Frey killer.

“How?” Rohanna asked when Chase hoisted her up. “How did you know it was me?”

Odelia held up the laptop.“Frey was the one who outed your boy, wasn’t he? He was the one who ran the Society of No.”

Rohanna nodded forlornly.“He was. He killed Luke. He might as well have handed him that rope and tied the noose around his neck. Him and that damn society.” She shook her head, tears now streaming down her face. “I had no idea Frey was behind it until I accidentally touched his laptop when I was cleaning his desk andthe screensaver dissolved and revealed the website of the Society of No. I knew they were behind Luke’s outing.”

“How did you know he was running it?” asked Chase.

“Usually when I cleaned the cabin, Frey took a walk in the woods. So when I saw the website I couldn’t resist digging a little deeper. And that’s when I saw the messages he’d posted as TransKiller. He was the site’s moderator! He’d used the same alias to post those hateful messages on Luke’s school’s page, so I recognized it immediately. I got so angry when I realized he was the one who’d killed my boy! He was the one who’d caused all this.”

She hung her head, and Odelia said,“I’m so sorry, Rohanna. But why didn’t you simply talk to my uncle? He would have arrested Frey.”

“You know as well as I do that guys like Frey are never punished,” said Rohanna bitterly. “He’s one of the happy few that can get away with murder. He would have hired the best lawyers money could buy and would have gotten off scot-free.” She shook her head. “When he walked in, that smug smile on his face, I knew I was in the presence of pure evil. So when he took a seat at his desk, I grabbed the first thing I could find and hit him as hard as I could. For my boy. So Luke’s death wouldn’t go unpunished.”

Odelia stared at the woman, tears in her own eyes now. Two lives were destroyed, for Rohanna would probably go to jail for a long stretch. Unless a jury would consider these extenuating circumstances. She glanced down at the gravestone of the kind-hearted young boy who just wanted to live a happy life, if not for people like Paulo Frey, whose hate had destroyed him.

“You did it, Odelia,” said Max.

“Yeah, you did it,” Dooley chimed in.

“No, you did it,” she whispered, making sure that Chase didn’t overhear her. Even though the burly copper might be warming to her—and she to him, she had to admit—she didn’t want her secret to get out. Uncle Alec might understand, but she was pretty sure that Chase Kingsley never would.

“Good job, Miss Poole,” Chase grunted after he’d Mirandized Rohanna.

“Thanks,” she said simply. “You too, Detective Kingsley.”

He gave her one of his rare grins.“I think we’re past that, don’t you?” He held out his hand. “Chase.”

“Odelia,” she said, and shook his hand, also smiling now.

“Oh, God,” Max groaned behind her. “Looks like Brutus is here to stay.”

Epilogue

One week after the events that had rocked Hampton Cove, Dooley and I were lazing around in the garden, under the shade of the old gnarly tree near the back, when I suddenly saw Brutus and Harriet crossing over to us.

“Don’t look now, Dooley,” I muttered, “but here come the brute and his bride.”

“What? Where?!” Dooley cried, and instantly started scanning the lawn.

We both stared at the couple as they drew nearer, and Dooley seemed on the verge of launching into a long tirade to make sure that the garden, at least, remained Brutus-free. But how could we keep anything Brutus-free these days? The cat was simply ubiquitous, as was the cop who owned him.

After Chase and Odelia had solved the Paulo Frey murder, the police detective had received a lot of accolades from the Hampton Cove brass. Not that we have a lot of brass around here. Just the mayor and the members of the town council. It appeared that some residents had indeed launched a petition to remove Chase from active duty, and the council was still considering it. But after his remarkable work catching the Frey killer, he’d earned himself a temporary reprieve, and had gained the admiration of a lot of Hampton Covians, chief amongst whom were people like Aissa Spring and Gabby Cleret who, it was rumored, had just signed up forIndiana Jones 2.

Whether Odelia was for or against Chase Kingsley wasn’t very clear to me. She hadn’t told us to stop trying to clear the man’s name, so that seemed to indicate she believed in his innocence and wanted him to stay. On the other hand, she’d listened very carefully when we’d told her that Brutus wasn’t our most favorite person in the world, and that we wanted him gone.

In other words, these were confusing times, and so for now we did nothing, at least until Odelia made up her mind and decided one way or the other. I, for one, wasn’t going to make an effort to keep the cop in town, especially as he came with so much baggage. And this baggage was now bearing down on us, his new girlfriend—our former friend Harriet—in tow.

“Hey, there, guys,” Harriet said by way of greeting.

But since Harriet was still dead to us, and so was Brutus, Dooley and I simply pretended not to hear her. We’d discovered that Brutus hated the silent treatment, and so did Harriet. Bullies can’t stand being ignored.

Talking about bullies, Odelia had written the definitive article on Paulo Frey, which had been picked up by the national media. The big papers had all done stories on Frey, and the upcoming trial that was going to decide Rohanna Coral’s fate. I had high hopes that she would be acquitted. After all, she’d only done what any of us would do when a monstrous predator drove our child to suicide: take revenge. Her actions could not be condoned, of course, but they could be understood, and I wasn’t alone in hoping she would get off with a light sentence or an acquittal. On this point Hampton Cove wasn’t divided at all: pretty much the entire town rallied behind her, and even chipped in to pay for a decent lawyer. In the eyes of many she was a heroine.

“She said, hey, you guys,” Brutus repeated, not sounding very friendly.

Dooley and I continued ignoring him, hoping he’d simply go away. But of course he didn’t. Some cats only need half a word to get your drift, but Brutus obviously wasn’t one of them.

“You guys, don’t be like this,” Harriet said. “Why can’t we simply be friends?” she added, harping on her new favorite theme. “Brutus is actually a very nice cat once you get to know him.” She emitted an involuntary giggle. “And I’ve gotten to know him very well this last week.”

Dooley appeared on the verge of saying something, but I gave him a kick, and he clamped his mouth shut.

“Look,” Brutus said, “I know that maybe I was a little heavy-handed when I first arrived, my human being a cop and all. What can I say? It’s a hard habit to break. But I see now that Hampton Cove has so much more to offer than your usual rabble that requires policing. You’ve got some great cats out here, and I admit that my methods, which might be appropriate for your crime-ridden big city, are not appropriate down here, where life is lived at a more leisurely pace.”

Harriet rubbed his back encouragingly, and he gave her a grateful nod.

“What I mean to say is this: I’m sorry if I came across a little too strong, and I promise that from now on I’ll try to see things your way.” He gestured at Harriet. “My girlfriend has shown me that policing a town is about more than swinging a big stick. It’s about befriending the locals. Earning their trust.” He held out a paw. “I’m here to tell you that I’m ready to be your friend.”

“If they’ll have you,” whispered Harriet.

He ground his teeth for a moment, then managed,“If you’ll have me.”

It was obvious they’d been rehearsing this shtick, and as I stared at the outstretched paw of my nemesis, I wondered how best to respond to this new nonsense. Walk away? Or deliver a blistering rebuttal? And as I was pondering this, Dooley, that moronic idiot, glanced at Harriet, grinned at her, and covered Brutus’s paw with his own.

“I’m so glad you said that! I just hate having to ignore my best friend.”

“Aw, Dooley,” said Harriet. “You’re my best friend, too.”

The next moment, Dooley was sniffing Harriet’s butt as if he hadn’t seen her in ages, Brutus and I looking on in horror. Brutus because he didn’t like other cats sniffing his girl’s butt, and I because I couldn’t believe Dooley had fallen for this nonsense.

“What about it, Max?” Brutus asked gruffly. “Forgive and forget?”

“I can’t forgive a cat that thinks he can bully me in my own home.”

“Fair enough. I wouldn’t either. I’m a changed cat now, though.”

“A changed cat? In one week?”

He glanced at Harriet.“Love has a way of changing a cat, you know.”

“Oh, please,” I grunted. “You can fool Dooley, but you can’t fool me.”

“Hey, I’m not kidding. This is true love, buddy.”

I very much doubted whether a cat like Brutus was even capable of love. Don’t you have to have a heart to be able to love?

At that moment, the doorbell rang, and moments later Chase walked out onto the terrace, accompanied by Odelia, and as they took a seat, I could see how things were going to be. This Chase guy wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. He was going to keep on coming, and judging from Odelia’s expression as they chatted, at some point in the future they just might become more than mere friends. I’d seen that look before, when she brought Sam the crooked banker home, and again when she had that crooked cop over. Odelia might be a great human, but she had lousy taste in men. Which meant I was going to be saddled with Brutus for the foreseeable future.

Three cats were looking at me anxiously. Dooley, looking goofy now that he was friends again with Harriet. Harriet, who seemed both tense and hopeful, for I was her friend too, until she’d hooked up with Brutus. And the bully himself, who seemed repentant, a look that didn’t become him.

Finally, I relented.“Oh, all right,” I said, slapping Brutus’s paw. “Forgive and forget.” But before the celebration started, I added, “But I’m not going to be bullied in my own home. This is stillmy home and Odelia ismy human.”

“Fair enough,” said Brutus with a grin. Then he leaned in and whispered, “But I’m still the cop around here, buddy, just you remember that. So what I say goes.” He then gave me a fake smile, and I could see that all this nonsense about him being a changed cat had just been posturing for Harriet’s sake.

“Oh, you sly son of a…”

“Max!” cried Harriet.

“It’s all right, gummy bear. Max and I are buds now. Aren’t we, Maxie?”

My eyes darted from Dooley, giving Harriet’s butt another sniff, to Odelia, offering Chase a drink, to Brutus, eyeing me with a warning grin on his smug mug. Two could play this game, I thought, and plastered a smile on my face. “Of course we are. From now on we’re one big, happy family.”

“Oh, yay!” cried Harriet.

“Yay,” snarled Brutus.

“And so three become four,” Dooley said, beaming all over his face.

“The four musketeers!” Harriet yipped.

“Max can be our Porthos,” said Brutus, and gave me a playful punch on the shoulder that hurt a lot more than it looked. “Right, Maxie, baby?”

“Wasn’t he the fat one?” asked Dooley.

“Ha ha,” said Brutus.

“Ha ha ha,” said Harriet.

“Ha ha ha ha,” said Dooley.

Oh, God, I thought. This was hell.

There was more playful ribbing and joking, and I wondered if I was the only one who could see Brutus for what he was: a nasty intruder. And I wondered if his human was anything like him. If he was, Odelia was in for an unpleasant surprise. I gave the paw I’d touched Brutus with a good lick to wash away the foul stench. Yeah, this wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

1.5. PURRFECT PET

CHAPTER 1

“Something is bothering me, Max.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Well, remember how Gran said she’d take us to the park this afternoon?”

“Yes? So?”

Dooley lowered his voice.“I think she wants to take us to the dog park, Max.”

I looked up in alarm at this.“The dog park!”

Dooley nodded seriously.“I overheard her talking to Marge, and I definitely heard her mention the words ‘dog’ and ‘park’ in the same sentence.”

“But… But she can’t do that! She wouldn’t do that. Shewon’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.”

We shared a look of apprehension. It has long been Dooley’s contention that Gran has plans for a cat park. Even though she hasn’t actually come out and said it, it’s obvious from her behavior that this ill-fated plan is lingering in the back of her mind somewhere. You see, once upon a long time ago there was mention of the plot of land that is located behind our house to be sold to a real estate developer. The plan didn’t materialize, but that didn’t stop the neighborhood from getting on its collective high horse and vocally demanding that those plans were halted in their tracks and that instead of another row of houses, of which already there are plenty, an actual park was created. You know, with grass and trees and benches for people to sit on and a corner where kids can play while their parents gossip about other parents.

There was a lot of talk about this, but in the end the plan didn’t materialize, on account of the fact that Blake Carrington, who owns the land, didn’t want to sell, either to a real estate developer or the town of Hampton Cove so a park could be created.

At that time Gran was firmly in favor of the park idea, and more specifically she wanted to turn what is now essentially a field full of weeds and wildflowers into a cat park.

What is a cat park, you may ask? Well, frankly I have no idea. In Gran’s mind this would be like a dog park, since she argued that if dogs are allowed to have their own parks, why should cats be excluded? There’s a certain spurious logic to the idea, but when you really think it through, maybe not so much. Dogs go to the dog park to run around and work up the courage to do their business against this tree or that tree or even in a designated area called a dog toilet. Cats don’t need all this running around, and besides, we don’t do our business against some poor innocent tree. Like all civilized creatures we use a litter box, something the canine species hasn’t discovered yet. Eventually they will—a couple of millennia from now.

“I really thought we’d seen the end of this cat park idea,” I told my friend.

The two of us were lounging on the patio behind the house, where we often like to relax and shoot the breeze. I glanced in the direction of the back fence, our last line of defense against the forces of darkness that lurked on the other side, namely Gran’s favorite spot for her beloved cat park: Blake’s field.

“Beyond The Wall,” I said, my voice tremulous with emotion, “there lurks a hidden danger, Dooley. The danger of Cat Park!”

“I know,” he said with a shiver. “It’s giving me nightmares, Max!”

Coming from one who never has any trouble taking a nap at a moment’s notice, this statement meant something. It meant that the world as we knew it was changing—and not for the better!

And as we thought somber thoughts about Gran’s evil plans, the sound of a tweety bird settling on the roof above our heads reached me. The bird in question was fluttering against the roof, inspecting its tiles, as birds do, possibly looking for a place to create a nest. We both followed its progress with interest.

“I mean, where is this going to end?” I said. “First a dog park, then a cat park… Why not a bird park next? Or how about a mouse park?”

“I don’t think birds and mice qualify for the park treatment, Max,” said Dooley. “They’re not pets, after all.”

“Birds are pets—sometimes,” I pointed out. Though it was true that if you wanted to take your bird to a bird park, it would probably fly off and you’d never see it again.

“I could see a turtle park happening,” said Dooley, taking my idea and running with it, as he often does. “Or even a gerbil park. Or a goldfish park. People are very fond of their goldfish, aren’t they?”

“They are,” I said. “Though I don’t see how you could take your goldfish to the park. Goldfish need to be immersed in water at all times, and if you take them out of their fish tank they won’t last very long.”

Dooley thought about this for a moment.“They could create a fish pond,” he ventured. “So everyone could take their fishes to the pond, let them swim around for an hour or so, get to know all the other fishes, and then scoop them out again and take them home.”

“It is an idea,” I admitted. Perhaps not a very practical one, but an idea nonetheless. And it made a lot more sense than the cat park idea Gran seemed so fixated on for some reason.

“I think the cat park idea popped up again because of something Marcie told her,” Dooley said.

Marcie is our next-door neighbor, and along with her husband Ted the proud owner of a sheepdog answering to the name Rufus.

“What did Marcie tell her?” I asked, interested in this rare glimpse under the hood of Gran’s noggin. A chance to find out what made this lady tick, in other words.

“She said dogs are superior to cats because dogs are social animals and cats aren’t. And the reason she said it is because Rufus loves to mingle with his fellow dogs at the dog park, something Marcie said cats would never do, since they are solitary creatures and hate all other cats.”

Indignation made it a little hard for me to find speech at first, but when finally I did, I said something along the lines of,“Marcie is a fool,” though the actual words I used may have been a little more colorful.

“I know, right?” said Dooley. “Take us, for instance. We’re friends, aren’t we, Max?”

“Best friends!” I said. “We’re the living proof that cats are every inch the social animals, probably even more so than dogs. I mean, dogs fight all the time. They can’t even pass another dog on the street without picking a fight. You never see cats behaving like that.”

“No, we take a big detour when we see another cat coming down the street,” my friend said, nodding.

“No!” I said, aghast at this aspersion. “No, Dooley, no. This is exactly the kind of statement the Marcies of this world like to use against us. We don’t take a big detour when we see a fellow cat pass us by on the street. On the contrary, we stop and say hi. We chat and generally behave like the perfectly civilized and social creatures that we are.”

“Well, maybe,” said Dooley, as he considered my words.

“There’s nothing maybe about it. Have you ever seen me cross the street when I see a cat approach? Never!”

“You don’t actually cross the street when you see Felix, but you do scoot into the front yard of the nearest house,” he pointed out.

I stared at him.“Felix is the exception that proves the rule,” I said. “In fact you might even argue that Felix isn’t really a cat at all. He’s the anti-cat.”

“How does that work, exactly, Max?” he asked. “Is that like matter and antimatter?”

“When Felix was born, his mother accidentally dropped him on his head,” I said. Though rumor had it that she had actually done it on purpose, having a hard time handling her unusually hyperactive son. “And from that moment on, things more or less went downhill.”

Felix is one of those cats of which every neighborhood seems to have at least one specimen. They call him the curse of Harrington Street, on account of the fact that he seems to find a perverse sort of pleasure in terrorizing the neighborhood. To give you one instance, only last week Felix endeavored to upend the delicate balance that exists in our neighborhood between cats and dogs. Before last week, an equal number of cats and dogs had been adopted by the people who make up our vibrant little community. And so peace between the two rival species has existed since time immemorial. Until Felix decided to induce his human, Maria Patel, to adopt not one, not two, but no less than a dozen kittens, thus destroying the equilibrium and causing chaos.

“Maria should never have adopted those kittens,” I now ventured, reiterating an argument the local cat community had adopted ever since that fateful morning when Maria arrived home with the litter of kittens and had taken them under her wing, so to speak. “That kind of rash behavior can only lead to trouble.”

“Oh, I’ll say,” said Dooley as he placed his head on his front paws. For a moment, nothing stirred, but then the bird that was still hoping to find the perfect location to accommodate its nest, spoke up.

“Say, fellas,” said the bird. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation just now, and I have to say I agree wholeheartedly with everything that you have said. Especially you, Max.”

“Why, thanks,” I said. Even though I consider myself the ruler of my personal domain, I’m always open to the opinions of other species—even birds. Especially when they pay me a compliment, of course.

“Ever since Mrs. Patel brought home those kittens, us birds have had to establish a no-fly zone over her backyard, on account of the fact that those kittens seem to be up to all kinds of no good.”

I studied the bird more closely. It was a pretty specimen, with bluish plumage and a sleek build.“You mean Mrs. Patel’s cats try to catch you guys?” I asked, much shocked by this accusation.

“Oh, yeah,” the bird confirmed. “And not just birds either. In fact anything living that crawls, flies or generally passes through Mrs. Patel’s backyard is in acute danger of being rendered obsolete post-haste.”

“You mean… murdered?!” Dooley asked.

The bird nodded seriously.“I don’t want to sound like an alarmist, you guys, but Felix is raising an army of killers. And sooner or later they’re going to start swarming out, and turning this entire neighborhood into something akin to a scene fromTheWalking Dead!”

CHAPTER 2

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Vesta wasn’t feeling so good. But instead of talking to her son-in-law Tex about it, she decided not to mention her sense of malaise but instead pretend that everything was just fine. Today, of all days, she simply couldn’t afford to get sick. She had big plans, and they required her personal attention!

Once and for all she was going to prove that cats are the superior pet when compared to dogs, and to that end she had worked out a most perfect plan. The only problem was that she needed volunteers to carry out her plan—feline volunteers, no less. And even though in her mind at least cats are the perfect pet, she wasn’t blind to the fact that the feline species also has its flaws. And one of those flaws, when compared to the canine equivalent, is a cat’s natural instinct to behave in a manner one might go so far as to describe as mulish. Now a cat isn’t as bad as a mule, of course—she wouldn’t go that far. But they did seem to have picked up quite a few traits from that notoriously stubborn breed of barnyard animal.

She coughed as she snuck into the backyard next door, and was gratified to find that Max and Dooley were sound asleep and sunning themselves on the back patio. She approached the two cats, rehearsing in her mind the words that might entice the duo to be enlisted into the service of their human. And as she rehearsed the little speech she had prepared for just this occasion, suddenly a loud squeaking sound could be heard coming from the rose bushes at the bottom of the garden. Max and Dooley’s eyes flew open, and Vesta, too, glanced in the direction the distressing sound seemed to be coming from.

“It’s a mouse!” Max immediately said. “It’s in danger! Come on, Dooley.”

If anyone else had witnessed this particular scene, in which two cats came to the aid of a mouse, they would have been greatly surprised. But since Vesta knew her cats, and knew they were essentially gentle creatures, she watched with interest as Max and Dooley flew up from their positions on the patio and hurried across the backyard. In an inspired moment, she had taken out her phone, and was filming the rescue attempt. She would post it later with the hashtags #catsaretheperfectpet #catsareheroes #catstotherescue and of course #catsaresuperiortodogs.

And as she approached the rose bush under consideration, she saw to her surprise that it was actually a kitten that was toying with a mouse, as some cats are prone to do.

“Hey, stop that!” said Max immediately.

“Yeah, stop that!” Dooley chimed in.

The kitten looked up in alarm, as it hadn’t counted on being interrupted in this fun but essentially cruel game, and for a moment halted its progress toward guaranteeing a less-than-enjoyable ending for its murine victim.

“What’s going on here?” suddenly another voice spoke as a new party burst forth onto the scene. Vesta recognized this newcomer as Felix, a brutish sort of cat belonging to Maria Patel, who lived a couple of houses down from her granddaughter. “Why are you picking a fight with my son?”

“We’re not picking a fight,” said Max. “We’re simply trying to teach him some manners.”

“Yeah, we’re trying to teach him to be kind to all creatures great and small,” Dooley chimed in.

“For your information, my son doesn’t need to be taught any manners,” said Felix, who was a large cat with pale yellow fur. Oddly enough one of his eyes was blue, while the other was yellow. It was quite remarkable, albeit a little unnerving. “I’ve taught him well, and he doesn’t need any lessons from two of Hampton Cove’s most notoriously ill-behaved bruisers.”

Max and Dooley seemed taken aback by this slur, and for a moment were at a loss for words. The kitten took advantage of this lull in the conversation to place a paw on the mouse, which had been struggling to get away, and apply some pressure. The poor creature squeaked up a storm, until Max took a swipe at the kitten, causing it to topple over, perform three rolls and finally come to a full stop against a nearby tree.

The mouse, free from the pressure of the kitten’s paw, decided not to stick around to see what would happen next, but instead zipped off in the direction of the field on the other side of the fence, and was gone. The kitten, having recovered from the shock of being smacked upside the head by one of its elders, and seeing itself deprived of its toy, now opened its maw and started screeching most emphatically.

Felix, whose face had become wreathed in an expression of extreme contempt, now approached Max in a threatening manner, but the latter simply stood his ground. And since Max was a lot bigger than Felix, his opponent finally decided that going toe to toe wasn’t wise. Instead he said, “This isn’t over, Max.”

“A word of advice, Felix,” said Max, having adopted a hostile stance. “Don’t come around here anymore. And that goes for those so-called sons of yours as well. Is that understood?”

Instead of replying, Felix shot Max a dirty look, then gathered his‘son’ and the two of them took off.

“Wow, Max, that was so exciting!” said Dooley once the twosome had left. “Though I have to admit I really thought he was going to hit you!”

“I thought so too, actually,” said Max. “But I simply couldn’t allow that brute to harass that poor defenseless creature, now could I?”

“You did good, Max,” said Vesta, stepping to the fore. “You protected a mouse, and you scared off a bully—and his son.”

“He’s not really his son though, is he, Max?” asked Dooley.

“No, as far as I know those twelve kittens Maria Patel brought home with her came from the pound, and are not related to Felix.”

“He probably considers himself their spiritual dad,” said Dooley.

Max smiled.“Or their foster dad, maybe.”

“He’s teaching them bad manners, that’s for sure,” said Vesta, who checked if she had the scene on film. She now doubted the wisdom of putting it online, though. She didn’t want to antagonize Mrs. Patel, who was a fine neighbor, even though her cats weren’t. Also, Marcie might pounce onthis, claiming all cats are killers.

“Do you think he’ll stay away from here from now on?” asked Dooley.

“I hope so,” said Max. “Though somehow I doubt if he will listen—and especially not that brood of his. They’re not very keen on boundaries.”

Vesta decided that the time had come to spring her surprise. But instead of launching into a long speech and lulling her cats into a false sense of security, she decided to go for the frontal assault.

“Okay, you guys,” said Vesta, clapping her hands. “Are you ready to go to the park?”

Both her cats looked up at her in alarm.“Not… the dog park?” Dooley ventured.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out!”

CHAPTER 3

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Dooley was feeling proud of his friend for standing up for that poor little mouse. And for standing up to that horrible Felix!“If this keeps up, our neighborhood will never be the same again,” he said now. They were following behind Gran, on their way to the dog park, where Gran seemed intent on taking them.

“Yeah, our neighborhood is going to the dogs,” Max quipped.

It took Dooley a little while to understand the joke, but when he did, he laughed heartily. Max was so clever! He always came up with the most amazing stuff. And he was so smart he could solve the toughest mysteries—things Dooley would never have thought of in a million years. And so he was convinced that Max would find a solution to this new problem that was vexing them—or problems, plural!

“I think the problem is that those kittens don’t have a mother,” Dooley said. He had been thinking very hard about their annoying neighbor Felix and his kittens, and he had finally hit upon this explanation.

“They do have a mother,” said Max. “Somewhere.”

“And that’s exactly the problem!” said Dooley. “Now if only we could find their mother, and tell Mrs. Patel to adopt her also, I think everything would be fine. They wouldn’t grow up to be little rascals like Felix, but nice law-abiding cats like you and me, Max.”

“There probably is a reason why they were at the pound, though,” Max pointed out. “And that reason just might be that their mother met with an uncertain fate.”

“What fate?”

“Like I said, an uncertain one. Which means we have no way of knowing what made her give up those twelve kittens, but it’s safe to assume that she wasn’t in a capacity to take care of them.”

“It’s all very sad, Max. And now those poor babies will grow up to become the bane of our existence.”

His words had given Max pause.“You’re right,” he said after a pause. “We probably should do something about this. Something more… permanent.”

Dooley stared at his friend.“You don’t mean… murder!”

Max laughed.“Oh, Dooley. Of course not. We’re not in the business of murdering our fellow felines.”

He blew out a sigh of relief. Somehow he couldn’t imagine his friend being capable of something like that. Those kittens might be a nuisance, and so was Felix, but a permanent solution was probably illegal, not to mention in-feline!

They had arrived at the dog park, and for a moment watched all the activity there with a curious eye. Dogs of all breeds and sizes were gamboling gaily about, doing their business in the designated areas, and generally having a grand old time. Dooley recognized Rufus, Marcie and Ted Trapper’s dog, and also Fifi, who was Odelia’s neighbor Kurt Mayfield’s Yorkie. In fact he recognized lots of dogs, and some of them recognized them and came over to sniff their butts for some reason.

“It’s a strange habit, isn’t it, Max?” he said when the fifth dog had wandered over to sniff his tush.

“What is?” asked Max.

“The sniffing part. Why do they do it?”

“I have no idea, Dooley. It’s one of those many mysteries surrounding the canine species I haven’t yet managed to plumb.”

And since Max was basically Hampton Cove’s mystery solver par excellence, that was saying something!

“Okay, you guys,” said Gran, who had taken a seat on a nearby bench and now addressed them sotto voce so as not to be looked at askance. “I want you to study this scene very carefully. This is a dog park.”

“We know it’s a dog park, Gran!” said Dooley laughingly.

“Watch…” said Gran, unperturbed, “… and learn.”

“Learn what?” asked Dooley. And when Gran refused to elucidate, Dooley turned to his friend. “What is it we have to learn, Max?”

“How a dog park is organized, I guess,” said Max. “So Gran can organize her own park—one designed for cats.”

Dooley closed his eyes in horror. It was happening, wasn’t it? The cat park was definitely coming at some point in the near future. Oh, no! “But I don’t want to learn about a cat park, Max! I don’t like the idea of a cat park and I don’t want to have anything to do with it!”

“I know that, and you know that, but Gran doesn’t,” said Max. “And let’s just keep it that way, shall we? For now,” he added with a wink.

Dooley wasn’t a politician, so he didn’t know anything about politics, but this was starting to look a lot like what he imagined politics was all about: saying and doing things you didn’t really mean, just so you could score… something… against someone. Maybe. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. And so for once in his life he decided not to do what Max told him, but to follow his own mind. “Gran, we don’twant a cat park,” he said therefore. “We’re cats, not dogs, and so we don’twant to go to one of these horrible places.”

Max shook his head, but Gran merely smiled.“Who said anything about a cat park?” she now said, causing Dooley to get even more confused.

“But I thought you said—”

“All I said was: watch and learn,” said Gran, pulling down her lower eyelid with her index finger, then pointing to her temple for some reason.

Mysteriouser and mysteriouser, Dooley thought, and decided to keep his tongue from now on. Politics was obviously way too complicated for his simple mind!

But as he watched on, he saw that maybe there was a point to what Marcie had said: the dogs present at the dog park were indeed being very social. Okay, so they had this weird habit of sniffing each other’s butts, but apart from that they seemed to have found a way to engage in a civilized manner with each other, and there wasn’t any of that annoying barking going on, and showing off whose teeth and growl were the biggest and most threatening.

All in all, he discovered that it was actually a fun way to pass the time, and after a while he was beginning to enjoy the whole setup. Although he didn’t think he would have liked to come out there all by himself, since dogs do like to scare cats by chasing them up trees and such. It’s one of those other habits that sets dogs apart from cats since cats never seem to feel that same need.

Rufus and Fifi now came tripping up to them, and plonked themselves down next to the bench.“So what are you guys doing here?” asked Fifi. “Figured you’d come and say hi?”

“Gran wants us to spy on you so she can start her own cat park,” said Dooley. “But don’t tell anyone, cause it’s all very hush-hush.”

Fifi and Rufus exchanged a look of surprise.“Vesta wants to start her own cat park?” asked Fifi. “But why?”

“She probably wants to ask money for it,” said Rufus. And when Dooley merely stared at him, he added with a shrug, “Knowing Vesta, she’s probably looking at the financial angle. Am I right, Max?”

“You may have a point,” Max agreed. “There may be a commercial aspect to this cat park idea. But it’s early days, so we don’t know yet.”

Now this came as a surprise.“I thought Gran was doing this to prove to Marcie that cats are social animals, just like dogs?”

“That’s probably how it all began,” said Max. “But as often with Gran, a mercantile angle crept in and at this point may have taken precedence. But we’ll just have to wait and see how this thing plays out.”

“I know how this will play out,” said Fifi knowingly. “The place will be a bust, that’s what will happen. And the reason is that cats are solitary creatures and wouldn’t be seen dead in a place like this.”

The fact that he and Max were there belied this theory, but when Dooley pointed this out to the little doggie, she was undeterred.

“Just you wait and see,” she said. “Before you know it, cat park will be part of the long list of Vesta’s plans that went phut.”

This should have sounded like music to Dooley’s ears, since he didn’t want to go to this cat park, but seeing Gran go phut wasn’t something he wanted either. And so he found himself on the horns of a dilemma, caught between the devil and the deep blue sea!

CHAPTER 4

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

“We need to talk.”

I looked up at these words, and found myself looking into the face of… Felix! The very cat I had told in no uncertain terms that he shouldn’t darken our doorstep ever again.

“I thought I told you to—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said the yellow cat, waving an impatient paw. “This is more important than some minor business with a mouse. This is a life and death situation we’ve got on our paws here, Max, and cats in the neighborhood tell me you’re the one to talk to.”

In spite of the intense dislike I had developed for this particular feline, Felix had succeeded to pique my curiosity.“So talk,” I said therefore.

“Rumor has it that your human is developing the land behind our houses to create a cat park,” said Felix. He had deigned to settle down on the patio, and now lay regarding Dooley and me in a markedly sphinxlike manner. “Well, I’m here to tell you that we have to put a stop to those plans, Max.”

“Nothing has been decided yet,” I said. “It’s all still very much in the planning stage at this point. I don’t even know if the land is for sale.”

“Oh, it’s for sale, all right,” said Felix.

“See?” said Dooley. “It’s happening, Max. Gran is going to launch her idea and we’re all going to be her guinea pigs!”

“Guinea pigs for what?” I said. “It’s a park, not a torture chamber. Nobody is going to force you to visit that cat park, Felix. If you don’t want to go, you don’t go. It’s as simple as that.”

“God, I wish I had your optimism, Max,” said Felix. “But honestly I don’t think it is that simple. You don’t know humans the way I do. And especially the phenomenon of the neighbor.”

“Okay, I’ll bite: what is the phenomenon of the neighbor?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, Max, but when my human’s neighbor bought himself an electric car, not three weeks had passed before Maria also bought herself an electric car. And when Maria’s other neighbor’s wife bought herself a new iPhone, she bought herself one—only a more expensive model.”

“So?”

“So humans are competitive in that sense, Max. They take a peek through their neighbors’ windows when they get the chance and when they see something they don’t have, they have to have it, too. Only bigger and more expensive. A bigger car, a more expensive smartwatch, a bigger flatscreen. Sometimes they even extend this to their wives and husbands. A prettier and younger wife or husband replaces the older model. It’s a very disconcerting aspect of the human experience, and I for one don’t like it one bit, since cats also grow older.” He arched a meaningful whisker at us and I could hear Dooley gasp in shock.

“You mean…”

“Yes, Dooley?”

“They might replaceus with a younger, prettier model?”

“Bingo. That’s exactly what they might do,” said Felix.

“Okay, so we all know that humans are weird,” I said. “But what does that have to do with the cat park Gran may or may not be building?” I asked.

“I was coming to that,” said Felix. “Knowing Vesta, she’s probably going to turn this into a huge production, correct? She may build this cat park, but she’s also not going to miss an opportunity to add other paraphernalia if she thinks it’ll attract customers. Pretty soon this is goingto turn into a regular Disneyland for cats and their owners, and people are going to flock from all over to take a look. And then the law of competition comes in: when one person starts bringing their cat to this cat park, others will follow, and before long the whole town will start bringing theircats here, and your humans and my human, being human like all the others, will simply have to cave to the pressure. Which means…”

“Thatwe will have to start going there,” I said, starting to see what he meant.

“Twice or three times a day, Max,” said Felix, painting a horrifying picture of our potential future. “Day after day. Just like dogs being led to that treadmill they call a dog park, we’ll also be led there—with no escape. And before you know it, we’ll all be trapped in the never-endingcircus that is the cat park.”

“Oh, no!” said Dooley. “But I don’t want to be trapped in a circus, Felix!”

“All the more reason to try and put a stop to this nonsense,” said Felix.

“Okay, so what I don’t understand,” I said, “is why you think this idea has merit. I mean, Gran doesn’t have the kind of money to set up a deal like this, considering the price of land nowadays, and this isn’t just some derelict piece of land in some remote part of the country. This is prime real estate and will probably fetch a pretty penny.”

“Rumor has it Blake Carrington is thinking about letting Vesta have it for free,” said Felix. And when he saw our expressions of incredulity, he nodded somberly. “According to what I heard it’s his fondest wish to make good use of the land, but not in the traditional sense where you build houses on every square inch you can cram them onto. No, he wants to do something for the community, and Vesta has sold him on this cat park idea. She has promised him a green oasis with a pond and plenty of stuff the non-cat-owning segment of the population might also find enjoyable. All in all the threat is real, you guys. And imminent!”

It was a bleak picture of our immediate future Felix was painting, and before long I agreed that perhaps it was time to put our differences aside and to join forces.

“But you have to keep that offspring of yours firmly in check,” I told him. “No more wandering around the neighborhood harassing innocent creatures.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Felix, who seemed well pleased that this talk had proven fruitful. “I will give them a good talking-to.”

“And that goes for yourself as well, Felix,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t pretend as if you don’t know.”

“You have quite the reputation, Felix,” said Dooley. “And it’s not a very good one. In fact it’s a bad one,” he added. “You’re considered the bad boy of Harrington Street.”

Felix grinned.“Is that a fact?”

“That is a fact,” I confirmed. “So if you want our cooperation, and the cooperation of all the other cats on this street, you’re going to have to tone it down a little.”

“Or a lot,” said Dooley.

“Okay, fine. I admit I have sometimes allowed my rebellious side to get the better of me. But ever since I became a dad, I’ve changed. I have!” he stressed when we gave him a skeptical look.

“Those aren’t your kids, though, are they, Felix?” asked Dooley. “Maria got them from the pound, didn’t she?”

For a moment I thought Felix would give Dooley a slap across the cheek for such impertinence, but instead he took the remark in his stride, indicating that perhaps he was right after all, and that he really had changed.“I may not be their biological father,” said Felix. “But that doesn’t make me love the little tykes any less.” A sort of soft expression had stolen across his face, and he said, “It’s amazing what fatherhood will do to a fellow. I can recommend it most warmly.”

“But I don’t want to be a father, Felix,” said Dooley. “It seems like a lot of responsibility and I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

Now both Felix and I smiled.“That’s all right, Dooley,” said the yellow cat. “I didn’t think I was ready either, until Maria decided to drop all twelve of these little ones on me. Said she simply couldn’t leave them at the pound after they looked at her so piteously. And since she didn’t want to break up the litter, she took all of them.”

“What happened to the mother?” I asked.

“Oh, she’s fine. It’s her humans who decided they didn’t want a dozen extra cats in the house, and chose to get rid of them.” He clicked his tongue. “Not very nice of them, but there you have it.”

“Don’t they miss their mommy?” asked Dooley.

“Strangely enough they don’t,” said Felix. “Of course they waited until they were old enough so they could leave the nest, but still.” He shrugged. “I guess I make a pretty good surrogate mom.”

Dooley laughed at this.“But Felix—you’re a mom and a dad all at once!”

“Mr. Mom,” I said with a smile.

Felix grinned.“I know, right? Who would have thought that Felix, local bad boy, would turn into a full-time parent? Not me!”

Not me, either. Which just goes to show: cats can change. And the animosity I’d harbored toward Felix started to dissipate.

“Okay, so how do we do this?” I asked. “How do we convince Gran that this whole cat park idea is not in our best interests?”

“You’re looking at this all wrong, Max,” said Felix. “The question you should be asking is this: how can we convince Vesta that this cat park is not in her best interests?”

He was right. Gran is a wonderful person, but she does suffer from an ailment that perhaps is all too common amongst certain people: a tendency to selfishly believe that the whole world revolves around herself. But how were we going to convince Gran that she shouldn’t build that cat park? Now there was an interesting challenge.

CHAPTER 5

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Vesta was on the phone with the owner of the field she wanted to turn into a cat park. Blake Carrington was a strange one, since he hadn’t decided to monetize his property yet by turning it into a big new development. But then he didn’t really need the money since he was rich enough as it was. And unlike most rich people, who never seem to have enough, he wasn’t interested in adding a few more zeros to his bank balance since it was fat enough already.

She paced up and down the backyard, since she didn’t want her daughter and her son-in-law to hear this conversation. For now everything she had done for the project was very much on the down-low, since that was one of the conditions Blake had stipulated when they first launched into this project together.

“So I was thinking we hire one of the best landscape artists money can buy,” she told the man now, “and ask him for his creative vision. I mean, I have a couple of ideas myself, but these people are pros. They know what hurdles to take and what hoops to jump through, wouldn’t you agree, Blake?”

“Oh, absolutely,” said Blake. “And I have to say I like the vision you have for the project, Vesta. Over the years a lot of people have approached me with plans for my property, but yours is the first one that actually appeals to me.”

Vesta was glowing with pride at this rare compliment.“Why, thank you, Blake,” she said. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

“I believe in giving praise where praise is due,” said Blake simply. “The only condition I have is—”

“That a memento is erected for your son. Yes, I know,” said Vesta. A couple of years ago Blake’s son Steven had died in a car crash in Blake’s field, and Blake wanted the crash site to be preserved in his son’s memory. Which wasn’t a big deal. As Vesta saw it, the park would become likea one-stop shop for cat lovers, with a pet salon, a veterinarian’s station, and a store where people could buy pet food and other paraphernalia. She had big plans, and knew this could be huge—in fact it could be stratospheric. If only she was smart about it.

“Okay, so who did you have in mind for the landscaping job?” asked Blake now.

They chatted for another couple of minutes, and as the conversation drew to a close, Blake said something remarkable.“I think it’s really great that you’re taking the lead on this, Vesta,” he said. “I’ve been racking my brain about what to do with this field of mine for years, but couldn’t think of anything that would both honor the memory of my boy, and would be a blessing for the neighborhood. So what I would like to do is to erect a statue in your honor and put it at the entrance to the park. Also, I would like to name the park after you. I would like to call it the Vesta Muffin Cat Park.”

“Oh, my,” said Vesta, much taken aback by this.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Blake assured her. “But promise me you’ll think about it, all right? And let me know what you decide.”

She would have said yes in a heartbeat, but didn’t want to sound too eager. So instead she said, “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

“Fine. Thank you again, Vesta. You’re a credit to this community.”

“Thank you, Blake,” she said. “That is so very sweet of you to say.”

After she had disconnected, she stood there for several moments, her phone in her hand, glowing with pride. A credit to her community. Now why had no one ever said that about her before? Because people were blind, probably, and Blake Carrington wasn’t. Blake Carrington was a man with a vision. A man with a vast knowledge of human nature. A man who recognized the value in a person when he saw it.

It was a happy Vesta who stepped into the house again and almost bumped into her daughter Marge, who was at the sink doing the dishes.“Who were you talking to just now?” asked Marge immediately, and Vesta understood she had probably been checking up on her through the kitchen window.

“Oh, just Dick Bernstein from the senior center,” she said. “He wants to organize a raffle and wanted to pick my brain about possible prizes.”

Marge didn’t look entirely convinced. “Another raffle, huh? Didn’t you just have one?”

“You can never have too many raffles, Marge,” she said. After Blake’s words, nothing could bring her down today, not even her daughter’s suspicious mind. An actual statue. In her honor! Oh, boy.

“Max tells me you took him and Dooley to the dog park?” said Marge. “Any particular reason?”

“Oh, I just figured they should probably learn to become friends with the dogs belonging to our neighbors,” said Vesta. “It’s important, you know, that they socialize not just with their own kind.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Marge, much to her surprise. “And so I’ve decided to take them to the petting zoo.”

“The petting zoo!” Vesta cried. “But why?”

“Like you said, so they learn to socialize with all different kinds of animals. Not just dogs but also goats, chickens, sheep… rabbits.”

Vesta studied her daughter for any signs of subterfuge but could detect anything. The woman seemed entirely on the level.“I guess,” she said finally. “Though I have to say I’m not sure they’ll like it. When I took them to the dog park this morning you should have heard them complaining. As if I was personally tying them to the torture rack and was getting ready to unleash the worst possible torment on them.”

“That’s exactly why it’s such a good idea to take them out of their comfort zone from time to time,” said Marge. “And you gave me that idea, Ma.”

“So you think taking them to the dog park was a good idea?” she asked.

“I think it was absolute genius,” said Marge, and planted a loving kiss on her mother’s temple.

Vesta blinked. How about that? First their local millionaire decided to erect a statue in her honor and called her a credit to the community, and now Marge actually called her a genius.

This day just kept getting better and better!

CHAPTER 6

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Dooley and I had decided to go for a little walk along Blake’s field, just so we could clear our minds and come up with some kind of idea on how to convince Gran not to go through with this cat park idea of hers. And we’d been traversing the field in this direction and that, collecting burrs along the way, when we came, not upon a bright idea, but upon a conversation between Gran and her next-door neighbor Marcie Trapper. From our vantage point on the other side of the fence, we could clearly see both parties, and were witnesses to their conversation.

“Ted said he saw you at the dog park today?” said Marcie, opening proceedings with a shot across the bow. “Have you finally decided to swap in those cats of yours for a pair of dogs?”

Dooley gave me a look of surprise, but I quickly put his mind at ease.“She’s joking,” I told my friend. “No way would Gran ever exchange us for a pair of dogs.”

“Actually I decided to see for myself if what you were saying about dogs being better pets is true,” said Gran.

“And? What did you decide?” asked Marcie.

“I have to say I’m not convinced. I still think cats are the superior pet. And you want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because unlike dogs, cats don’t need to be walked. They can do that all by themselves. And cats don’t need to be put on a leash, since cats would never attack perfect strangers in the street, or skedaddle when they see a squirrel. Simply put: cats are a lot more clever, which makes them the perfect pet in my book.”

“Oh, Vesta,” said Marcie with a light laugh. “You’re so gullible. You really think when you see one dog you’ve seen them all, don’t you? There’s dogs and then there’s dogs. Take my Rufus for instance. Rufus would never go off on some wild-squirrel chase, would you, Rufus?”

Rufus, who sat next to his master, now woofed affirmatively.

“And he would never bark at strangers in the street, or threaten them with violence. Because Rufus is a clever dog—in fact Rufus is the perfect dog.”

“Tell me, does he still poop in the street?” asked Gran. “And pee against any lamp post he meets? See, that’s what I mean. Cats don’t do that. They’re much too clever to behave like animals.”

“At least Rufus never threatened anyone with violence,” said Marcie. “Unlike your cats.” And when Gran started to protest against this terrible slur, she raised her voice and continued, “At the slightest provocation, the claws come out and there’s hissing and biting. My Rufus would never do a thing like that. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Just so you know: Max or Dooley or Harriet have never raised their claws at me in anger, or even their voices. And that’s because they trust me, and appreciate everything I do for them.”

Marcie raised an eyebrow.“Not even when you take them to the vet?” When Gran hesitated, she grunted with satisfaction. “I rest my case. When you can honestly say your cats have traveled to the vet and haven’t snapped at you, or tried to bite you, or hissed, then and only then can you claim they’re the perfect pet. Until then…” She patted Rufus affectionately. “I’ll stick to dogs, thank you very much.”

Gran grumbled something, but she wasn’t the kind of person to be beaten so easily. “I’m opening a cat park, you know. And then we’ll see who’s more popular around here: cats or dogs. I think we’ll see a major influx of cat lovers, a crowd the size of which will put that puny dog park of yours to shame.”

Marcie stared at the other woman.“You’re opening a cat park?”

“That’s right. Right there,” she said, and pointed to where Dooley and I were sitting and listening intently.

“But that’s Blake Carrington’s property.”

“I know. I’m going into business with Blake. He thinks it’s a great idea, and he’s even erecting a statue in my honor because of my service to our local community and because he’s so happy with my idea.”

“But… cats don’t go to pet parks. They won’t come.”

“Oh, they’ll come, all right. Their owners will make them. And once they see other cats flocking to, and they realize the Vesta Muffin Cat Park is the place to be, it’s going to become all the rage. And before you know it, we’ll start setting up cat parks all over the country. We’ll franchise the thing. It’s going to spread like wildfire, Marcie. And soon everyone will know that the perfect pet is the cat, and not the dog.”

And feeling she had said all she had to say on the topic, she left a stunned-looking Marcie standing at the hedge.

“Just when you think you’ve heard everything…” Marcie said, then patted Rufus on the head and went into the house, presumably to tell her husband all about Vesta’s latest harebrained scheme.

“Did you hear that, Max?” said Dooley. “Blake is working with Gran to turn his field into a cat park.”

“I know,” I said. And I didn’t like it one bit.

“A cat park is still better than a car park,” said Rufus, who had sniffed us out and approached from his side of the fence. “Do you think this will actually happen?”

“If Blake is on board, it will happen,” I said. As long as he wasn’t involved, there was still a chance this was just some crazy dream Gran was harboring, but now that she had the actual owner of the field agreeing to turn her dream into a reality, it wouldn’t be long before all the cats inthe neighborhood would be induced to show up at this so-called cat park twice or even three times a day. Yikes!

“We have to stop her,” said Dooley. “But how?”

“I have an idea,” said Rufus. “You go on strike.”

“On strike?” I said. “What strike?”

“A hunger strike, of course. What else?”

Dooley and I shared a look of abject horror.“A hunger strike!” Dooley said. “But Rufus, that’s terrible!”

“It’s not so bad,” said Rufus. “When Ted and Marcie wanted to cut off all of my hair, and I vehemently disagreed, I went on a three-day hunger strike, until they finally decided to drop the idea.”

“Your hairis a little long,” I said.

“And that’s exactly the way I like it!” said Rufus as he shook his long mane like a model for a Pantene commercial. He looked more like a sheep than a dog, I thought, but decided not to tell him, unless he went on a hunger strike right then and there.

“I really don’t see how we should have to suffer just because Gran has some crazy idea,” I said. “I mean, if anyone should go on a hunger strike it’s her.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Max. It’s the person who wants something who goes on strike, not the other way around.”

“Still,” I said. “I don’t think I could do it.” I mean, I was prepared to go to extreme lengths to stop this cat park, but to stop eating? That was simply too much. There are limits to what a cat can endure.

“Okay, then I guess you’ll simply have to get used to the idea of going to the park three times a day to go off-leash,” said Rufus with a shrug. “And to do your business in a cat toilet—in front of all of your friends—al fresco!” he added with a big grin.

Dooley and I uttered exasperated groans at the thought of having to do our business where others could see us—and hear us—and smell us! The idea was simply abhorrent. A blatant violation of our feline rights! It merely confirmed the notion that we had to put a stop to this crazy plan of Gran’s. But how?

Clearly Rufus wasn’t any help either, with this strike business.

But if push came to shove, and we had no other option, maybe we had to consider it.

Oh, the horror!

CHAPTER 7

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

It was a sad-looking pair of cats who returned to their own backyard. Their little chat with Rufus had brought them no comfort nor consolation, and frankly at this point they were at a loss as to how to remove the obstacles in their path: Gran’s audacious plans to build a cat park and change the way life was lived in Hampton Cove forever.

Dooley was most impressed by the notion that only a hunger strike could be used as a last resort, and he worried that Max would actually go through with it.

“You’d lose too much weight, Max,” he told his best friend now. “And when you lose weight, it’s going to make you weak, and then that big brain of yours will be affected, and you know what that means.”

“What does it mean?” asked Max with a weak smile.

“Criminals will have free reign and the streets of this fair town will become a hotbed of crime!” said Dooley. “No, we have to find another solution, Max. One that doesn’t involve starving ourselves.” And so both Dooley and Max gave themselves up to thought. There had to be a way to stop this terrible plan from encroaching on the pleasant lifestyle to which they both had become accustomed. But what? And how?

For a moment they both sat there on the patio trying to come up with an idea—any idea—that could prove a workable solution to the problem that vexed them. But try as he might, nothing seemed to suggest itself.

“I think instead of eating less, we probably should eat more,” Dooley suggested. “Especially you, Max, since your brain is the biggest one of all, and it needs sustenance to keep on working at full capacity.”

“Yeah, I have to admit I’m feeling a little peckish,” Max agreed.

And so both friends moved indoors to partake in that pleasant ritual loved by both man and beast: the repast. And they had just gobbled up a few nuggets of delicious chicken kibble when a sound reached their ears where no sound should have been. It seemed to come from upstairs, and sounded very much like a human in a state of distress.

So they both traipsed up the stairs, worried that something might have happened to Odelia, and came upon that beloved human of theirs going through an odd-looking routine on a colorful rubber mat. She was pointing one arm at the ceiling, the other firmly planted on the mat, and was trying to twist her head around three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, not unlike Linda Blair inThe Exorcist.

“Odelia, watch out!” Dooley cried. “You’re going to break something!”

But Odelia smiled and said,“Don’t worry, Dooley. It’s just yoga.”

“Yoga?” said Dooley. He had heard of this particular pastime that was so popular amongst humans of all ages, but had never actually seen it being performed live in front of him. “But why are you twisting yourself into knots like that? It can’t be healthy, Odelia.”

“Oh, it’s very healthy,” said Odelia. “It releases stress and improves core strength and flexibility in the muscles and joints.”

“I think it looks very dangerous,” said Dooley, having formed his opinion and sticking to it. “Please be careful, will you?”

“I’m always careful,” their human said, and then turned to twist some other part of her anatomy into a painful-looking position. She looked like a human corkscrew, Dooley thought.

Odelia must have noticed how her cats didn’t look their usual jolly selves, for between two positions she still managed to say, “You guys all right? It’s just that you’re both looking a little down.”

“We’re sad because we don’t want to go on a hunger strike,” Dooley admitted.

Odelia laughed.“Now why would you go on a hunger strike?”

“To stop Gran from building her cat park,” Max said.

“Yeah, we don’t really like the idea all that much,” said Dooley. “Even though Gran will get her statue and all, and of course we’re very happy for her, it’s just that we don’t want to do our business in front of all the other cats. Al pesto.”

“Al fresco,” Max corrected him. “That means in the open air.”

Dooley shivered at the thought of having to do his business against a tree or a lamp post, like dogs did.“It’s just that I’m used to taking my walks whenever I like,” he said. “And also taking a wee or a poo whenever it strikes my fancy. And being forced to take a walk or to pee or poo three times a day if and when someone tells me to—and on a leash, no less.” He shook his head. “It just makes me sick, Odelia.”

“I guess it’s all about bladder control,” Max said moodily.

Odelia had been frowning throughout, and now said,“Gran is building a cat park?”

“And getting a nice big statue for her trouble,” Dooley added.

“And the park will be named after her,” Max said.

“Yeah, it’s going to be called the Vesta Muffin Cat Park,” said Dooley. “Which has a nice ring to it, but I’d much prefer it to be called the Vesta Muffin Dog Park. Dogs like that kind of thing. We cats don’t.”

“This is the first I’m hearing of this,” said Odelia, who prided herself in being the best-informed person in Hampton Cove. Clearly Gran had managed to keep this information very much to herself.

“I guess Gran wanted the cat park to be a surprise,” said Dooley.

“Well, it is a surprise,” said Odelia. “A very big surprise.”

“But not a very nice surprise,” said Max.

“No, more like a nasty surprise,” Dooley said.

Odelia studied them for a moment, and seemed to be having trouble believing what they were saying.“And you’re sure this is true? You’re not pulling my leg or something?”

Dooley smiled.“We can’t pull your leg, Odelia. Our paws are too small and your leg is too big.”

“No, it’s all true,” said Max. “We overheard Gran discussing the cat park idea with Marcie just now. That’s how it all began, you see. Marcie told Gran that dogs are the perfect pet, and Gran disagreed. That’s how the ball got rolling. Now Gran wants to prove to Marcie that cats are superior to dogs, and this cat park is somehow supposed to accomplish this.”

In light of these stunning events, Odelia decided to pause her yoga routine, and proceeded to place a towel around her neck and head down the stairs. Dooley and Max followed her, curious to find out what their human was up to. It didn’t take the reporter long to head into the backyard, pass through the opening in the hedge that separated her backyard from that belonging to her parents, and go in search of Gran. Unfortunately the old lady seemed to have fled the scene. She had left behind her phone, though, which was lying on the kitchen table.

So Odelia picked it up and for the next couple of moments could be seen checking the device for evidence of the cat park extravaganza. Just then, the phone started belting out the theme fromRocky, and for a moment Odelia froze.“Blake Carrington,” she told her cats.

“That’s the man Gran is doing business with,” said Max.

“Yeah, he’s the one who’s going to build a statue for her,” said Dooley. “In service of all the good things she’s doing for the local community.”

Odelia hesitated, then a look of resolve came into her eyes, and she picked up.“Hiya,” she said, mimicking her grandmother’s voice.

Through the miracle of speaker mode, Odelia’s cats could follow both sides of the conversation. “Hey, Vesta,” said Blake. “I just wanted to let you know that I found the perfect artist for that statue of yours.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” said Odelia, frowning down at her cats.

“Yeah, he’s really excited,” said Blake. “In fact he can’t wait to get started. He needs a deposit, though. I’d pay him myself, but my banker happens to be out of town, so I’m a little strapped for cash right now.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” said Odelia.

“Yeah, I know. And the thing is, if we don’t lock this guy down, he’ll take on some other project. He’s very popular, and we’re lucky to have him. But without a deposit he can’t take the job, unfortunately.”

“How much does he want?”

“Only fifty thousand,” said Blake. “Just a small down payment to show our good faith. That way he’ll prioritize the statue project and get started straight away. So what do you say, Vesta? What do I tell him?”

“Oh, so you wantme to pay him?”

“I’ll pay you back, of course. As soon as my banker returns from his vacation in the Maldives.”

“Can I think about it?” asked Odelia.

“I’m afraid we’re on a tight schedule here,” said Blake. “If I don’t phone him back with the good news right now, we’ll lose him. And that means no statue, I’m afraid. Or at least not the quality you deserve.”

“Let me see what I can do,” said Odelia.

“I’ll send you the link right now. Just click on it and transfer the money. But don’t wait too long. Let’s say one hour—tops. If he doesn’t have the money by then, I’m afraid it’s bye-bye for that statue of yours.”

“And we don’t want that, do we?” said Odelia.

“No, we definitely don’t. I think we owe it to the people to give them something beautiful to look at every time they take their cats for a walk, don’t you? A beautiful statue of a beautiful person.”

“Gee thanks, Blake,” said Odelia.

“You’re welcome, Vesta. Now remember. Click the link and transfer the money. I’ve added a timer so you can see when the time will run out and you will have lost this unique opportunity once and for all.”

Even as the conversation ended, a ping sounded, announcing that a message had arrived on Gran’s phone. Odelia checked it and nodded. “It’s a payment app, all right. With a timer, just like he said.”

For some reason she exchanged a knowing look with Max, and the latter said,“Your uncle?”

“My uncle,” Odelia confirmed.

And then she was on the phone again, only this time it was with Uncle Alec, their chief of police. And much to Dooley’s surprise she proceeded to recount the entire exchange with Blake Carrington, only this time she liberally sprinkled the words ‘scam,’ ‘scam artist,’ and ‘hoodwinked’ into the conversation.

CHAPTER 8

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Peace had finally returned to the house, and even though Gran’s wounded pride was still smarting, the main thing was that the cat park plans had been scrapped. Uncle Alec had been in touch with the real Blake Carrington, who had reiterated his firm wish not to develop his land, and to leave it as it was.

The fake Blake turned out to be a young man living not all that far away, in neighboring Happy Bays. He answered to the name Rick Fisher, and this wasn’t his first rodeo, as he had been arrested and charged with similar offenses in the recent past. Though how he had figured out that Gran was in the market for a cat park was anyone’s guess. As far as I could tell, Mr. Fisher had never even met Gran or indeed any of us.

And so it was that about a week after these stirring events had taken place, Dooley and I were shooting the breeze with Rufus and Fifi in the Trapper backyard. I was feeling relaxed and happy, now that this whole cat park business had been relegated to the scrapheap of history.

“We still don’t know who the perfect pet is, though,” said Fifi. “Is it a dog, or is it a cat?”

“Maybe dogs are the perfect pet,” I said, feeling magnanimous after our recent victory against the powers of evil. “After all, they are man’s best friend, right?”

“Glad you’re finally starting to see things our way, Max,” said Rufus. “And I have to say, cats aren’t so bad either. Not as great as dogs, obviously, but an honorary second place for you guys seems fair.”

“Turtles make great pets, too,” Fifi pointed out. “And parrots, goldfish, gerbils, rabbits…” She grinned as I rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine. So let’s agree that dogs are number one, and cats are number two.”

“Fine,” I said. “I can live with that.”

We glanced up when a conversation started up nearby. Marcie and Gran had found each other again, and were standing on opposite sides of the hedge, exchanging thoughts and ideas as per usual.

“So I heard your statue was a bust?” said Marcie. “Rumor has it that some scammer pretending to be Blake Carrington had you fooled?”

“He didn’t fool me for one second,” Gran insisted. “I had him pegged as a scammer from the get-go. But I was under strict instructions from my son to keep stringing him along while Alec built a case against the guy. It was all part of an elaborate sting operation.”

“Is that a fact?” said Marcie, not hiding her skepticism at these words. “So why did you tell me Blake was building a statue in your honor? Or was I also part of Alec’s sting operation?”

“Marcie, I was testing you!” said Gran. “Trying to figure out how easily you could be fooled. And I have to say you fell for the ruse hook, line and sinker.” She wagged a finger in her neighbor’s face. “You should be more careful next time. The world is full of scammers these days and you can never be too prudent.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about me,” said Marcie. “I’m always careful. In fact I’d never be foolish enough to believe in a person who’s offering me a statue in exchange for a whopping fifty thousand dollars.”

“That was just the down payment,” Gran pointed out. “The actual statue would have been worth so much more.” She sighed a wistful little sigh. “Too bad it won’t go through. A cat park would have done so much to elevate this neighborhood—and the value of our properties, of course.”

Marcie glanced in the direction of Blake’s field. “It is true that something should be done about that terrible piece of wasteland,” she said. “The way it looks now… it’s a disgrace is what it is.”

Gran’s eyes lit up. “You and Ted wouldn’t be interested in funding my cat park idea, would you? I’m sure if we offered Blake the right price—”

Marcie held up a hand.“No, thank you!” she said, laughing. “Blake isn’t selling, as far as I know.”

“No, I guess he isn’t,” said Gran, deflating again. She shrugged. “Oh, well. Guess the experience has taught us all a lesson.”

“Especially Gran, though,” said Rufus. “Good thing you guys stopped her from losing all of her savings and then some.”

“Odelia stopped her,” I pointed out. “She’s the one who saved the day—and Gran’s savings.”

Gran had left, and Marcie took out her phone and started typing something.

“What is she doing?” I asked.

“Posting on her social media,” said Rufus. “She’s addicted to that stuff. Anything that happens in her life, she takes pictures and posts them online. You wouldn’t believe how many pictures of me are out there.”

And to prove he wasn’t lying, Marcie now took a picture of the four of us, then busily started typing again, before muttering, “And… post.” With a satisfied smile she put her phone away and resumed the work on her herbaceous borders.

“Max?” said Fifi. “What’s wrong? You look… odd.”

I shook my head.“I just had an idea, that’s all.” I turned to Rufus. “This conversation Gran had with Marcie a couple of days ago, about who’s the perfect pet, did she post that online, too?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me one bit,” said Rufus. “Marcie posts everything online.”

I smiled.“That explains how Rick Fisher found his target,” I said. “He must have seen that post on Marcie’s social media page, and figured Gran was the perfect patsy. And so that’s what happened. He tried to sell Gran a bridge, and she eagerly took the bait, figuring she could show off to Marcie that way.”

“Scammers always exploit people’s weaknesses,” Fifi said. “That’s how they get you: with stuff like flattery and fake expectations.”

Dooley laughed.“Did someone try to sell Gran an actual bridge?”

“No, but they tried to sell her a statue,” said Fifi. “And she almost bought it, too.”

“I wonder what Gran would do with a bridge,” said Dooley thoughtfully. “It doesn’t seem very useful in your backyard, does it? I think I’d prefer a statue, actually.”

“Statue or bridge, I’m glad this episode is behind us,” I confessed. “I was getting really stressed thinking we’d have to start going to the cat park soon.”

“It’s not so bad,” said Rufus. “Just look at Fifi and me. We’ve been going to the dog park for years, and we love it. Don’t we, Fifi?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a lot of fun. It’s probably my favorite time of the day. I can’t wait until Kurt brings out my leash and tells me it’s time to go. I could kiss him! And frequently do, I confess,” she added shyly.

“I try to kiss Ted when he brings out my leash,” said Rufus ruefully, “but when I do, he falls on his tush, and he doesn’t like that since it ruins his suit. But can I help it if I get so excited every single time?!”

And therein probably lies the difference between cats and dogs: dogs simply cannot hide their excitement when their humans bring out their leash—a symbol of oppression if I have ever seen one.

So who’s the number one pet? Honestly it’s a toss-up. An ex aequo. So maybe mix and match? Get a dog for the obedience and the adulation. And get a cat for its beauty and its grace.

And as we sat there enjoying our camaraderie, suddenly a loud squeak rent the air, and when we looked up, we saw that a mouse came hurrying in our direction. It took a terrified look at us, then kept on running. Moments later a kitten entered our field of vision—possibly the same kitten I had told off before!

It stared at me, then decided to risk all and kept up its pursuit of that poor mouse. But just when I decided to put a stop to this display of barbarism, Felix came crashing through the hedge, grabbed the kitten by the neck, and started dragging it back to its home. He gave me a wink and we shared a look of understanding. Then he was off, the perfect Mr. Mom.

“Who was that?” asked Fifi once Felix had returned whence he came.

“That was Felix,” I said. “A dear friend of ours. Father of a flock of twelve.”

“Twelve!” said Rufus. “How about that?”

“He’s a mom and a dad both,” Dooley explained. And as we told our friends all about Felix, I think I can safely say that the fact that we had befriended this former bad boy was evidence that cats are social creatures, after all. And that we count amongst our circle of friends animals of all species—even dogs.

And we don’t even need a cat park to prove it!

2. PURRFECTLY DEADLY

Chapter 1

Morning had arrived bright and early, and as usual I was having a hard time rousing my human. Odelia was still snoozing, even more reluctant than usual to throw off the blanket of sleep. She’d been stirring for the past hour, ever since her alarm clock had gone off and she’d unceremoniously silenced it with one well-aimed punch. In spite of all my nudging, meowing, and even scratching the closet door, she still showed no signs of getting out of bed.

She’d sat up half the night preparing for her interview today, but if she didn’t get up now she’d miss it entirely. And it wasn’t just any old interview either. For the first time in years, famous eighties pop singer John Paul George, aka JPG, had granted the Hampton Cove Gazette an exclusive.

John, whose star had shone so brightly back in the day, now lived as a recluse in his Hamptons mansion, only rarely venturing out. He was one of those pop deities and eighties icons whose name would go down in history along with Madonna, Michael Jackson, Prince and George Michael.

Originally he hailed from England, where they produce pop stars in a factory just outside London, but had settled in the Hamptons in the nineties, where he could enjoy sun and surf and an endless parade of boy toys.

“Odelia,” I tried again, nudging her armpit with my head. “Oh, Odelia. Rise and shine, my pretty. John Paul George and legend are awaiting.”

But instead of opening her eyes, she merely mumbled something and turned the other cheek, her blond hair fanning across the pillow and her green eyes remaining firmly closed. I stared down at her sleeping form. I could always give her a gentle nibble, of course. Maybe that would do the trick. Somehow I doubted it, though. When Odelia is asleep, only a shot from a cannon can wake her, or perhaps a piper beneath her window, like the Queen of England. I should know. I’ve been Odelia’s constant companion for going on eight years now. My name is Max, by the way, and I’m a cat.

Finally, I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to miss this interview, as JPG was as much a hero of mine as he was of Odelia’s. The man had taken in more stray cats than the Hampton Cove animal shelter, and all of them had been given such a good life they’d spread the word far and wide: JPG loved cats and they, in return, adored him. Heck, if I wasn’t so fond of Odelia I might have presented myself on the JPG doorstep, looking slightly bedraggled.

I’d talked to more than a few of the cats he’d taken in, and they said he actually served them p?t? on a daily basis. The food supposedly melted on the tongue, and was so delicious and plentiful it sounded like feline paradise.

The thought of p?t? decided me. I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to sample the best gourmet food in all of Hampton Cove just because Odelia liked to sleep in. So I jumped on top of her, prepared to give her a good back rub, claws extended. If that didn’t do the trick, nothing would.

Just then, Dooley wandered into the room.

Dooley is Odelia’s mom’s cat, a beigeish ragamuffin and not the smartest cat around. He’s also my best friend.

“Hey, Max,” he said now as he leisurely strode in. “What’s up?”

“What’s not up is the more apt question,” I grumbled, gesturing at Odelia, who turned and clasped her pillow with a beatific expression on her face.

“Aw, she looks so sweet,” said Dooley, looking on from the bedside carpet.

“We’ve got an important interview scheduled in an hour, and if she doesn’t get a move on she’s going to miss it.”

“One hour? She can make that. Easy.”

“Well, unless she gets up right now she won’t,” I insisted.

And then I got it. Maybe we could serenade her. Dooley and I had recently joined the cat choir. We got together once a week to rehearse, and even had our own conductor. We sang all the old classics, likeCat’s in the Cradle,Year of the Cat,What’s New Pussycat and things like that. The good stuff. Since we usually practiced at night, though, we were having a hard time finding a regular spot to get together, as the neighbors didn’t seem to appreciate our nascent talent as much as we did.

“What was that song we did last night?” I asked Dooley.

He looked up at me.“Mh? What song?”

“For the cat choir. What was that last song we did? The one that made the mayor throw that old shoe at you?”

Dooley frowned at this, and rubbed the spot on his back where the shoe had connected.“That wasn’t funny, Max. That really hurt, you know.”

“Yeah, but what was the song?” I insisted.

“Wake me up before you go go,” he said. “The old Wham! classic.”

“Of course,” I said with a grin. “Let’s do it now. I’m sure it’ll be a nice way to wake Odelia up, and put her in the right mood for her interview.”

I jumped down from the bed, and took up position next to Dooley. We both cleared our throats, just like our conductor Shanille, Father Reilly’s tabby had taught us, and burst into song.

“Wake me up before you go go,” I howled.

“Don’t keep me hanging on like a yo-yo,” wailed Dooley.

And even though we hadn’t practiced the song a lot—the mayor’s shoe had kinda ruined the moment—I thought we were doing a pretty good job. It probably wouldn’t have carried George Michael’s approval, as cats don’t exactly sing like humans. When we sing, it sounds more like… a bunch of cats being strangled. Nevertheless, the effect was almost magical. We hadn’t even gotten to the chorus yet, when Odelia buried her head in her pillow, then dragged the pillow over her head, and finally threw the pillow at us.

“Stop it already, you guys. You sound horrible!” she muttered.

“It’s Wham!,” I told her. “So it can’t be horrible. And if you don’t get up right this minute, you’re going to be late for your important interview.”

At this, she darted a quick look at her alarm clock, and uttered a startled yelp. The next moment she scrambled from the bed, practically tripped over Dooley and me, and raced for the bathroom.

“Shit shit shit shit shit!” she cried. “Why didn’t you wake me?!”

“Well, I tried!” I called after her. “And failed.”

“You think she doesn’t like our singing?” asked Dooley, who’s very sensitive about his singing skills. Coming after the shoe incident, Odelia’s critique had clearly rattled him.

“I’m sure she loved it,” I told him, padding over to the window.

Unlike humans, us cats don’t need to spend time in the bathroom, or apply makeup, or put on clothes. We do spend half of our lives licking our butts, but apart from that, being a cat is a lot easier than being a human.

“I sensed criticism,” Dooley said now, staring at the door through which Odelia had disappeared. “She said it sounded horrible, Max. Horrible!”

“She’s not awake yet,” I said. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

I hopped up onto the windowsill and watched the sun rising in the East. Outside, in the cherry tree that divided Odelia’s garden from her parents’, cute little birdies were chirping, singing their own songs, and fluttering gaily. I licked my lips. Coming upon the thoughts of p?t?, the sight was enough to make my stomach rumble.

Dooley joined me, and we both stared at the birdies, twittering up a storm. There’s nothing greater than waking up in the morning and seeing a flock of little birdies fluttering around a tree. It lifts my mood to such heights I can’t wait to get out there and meet the world head-on. And the birdies. I saw Dooley felt the same way, for his jaw had dropped and he was drooling.

“So how’s things over at your place?” I asked.

His happy gaze clouded over.“Rotten. That Brutus is spending more and more time at Marge’s place than he does at his own.”

Brutus was the black cat that belonged to Chase Kingsley, who was a new cop who’d recently moved to Hampton Cove. He was staying at Chief Alec’s, Odelia’s uncle, until he got a place of his own, but Brutus seemed to feel more at ease at the Pooles than at Uncle Alec’s. And then there was the fact that he was dating Harriet, of course, Odelia’s Gran’s white Persian, who lived in the same house. One big, happy family. Except that it wasn’t.

It had been a tough couple of weeks, Brutus being some kind of dictator, who liked to think he had to lay down the law to us plebeians. And since Dooley had always been sweet on Harriet himself, he was pretty much in hell right now.

“Brutus still being such a pain in the butt?” I asked.

Dooley nodded forlornly.“Last night he told me that from now on I should sleep on the floor. That all elevated surfaces were strictly reserved for him. Something about him having to have the best vantage point in case the house was being burglarized. I swear that cat is driving me up the wall.”

“That’s just plain silly,” I said, shaking my head. Both Dooley and I had been wracking our brains trying to come up with a way to take Brutus down a peg or two. But as long as Harriet was his girlfriend, that was kinda hard, especially since Harriet is pretty much the most beautiful cat in Hampton Cove, and whatever she says goes with humans.

“You can always sleep on my couch, Dooley,” I said magnanimously.

In spite of Brutus’s efforts to take over my house as well, so far he hadn’t succeeded. Fortunately Odelia still listened to me, and kicked him out when he became too much for me to handle. Oh, that’s right. Didn’t I tell you? Odelia is one of those rare humans who understands and speaks feline, on account of the fact that one of her forebears was a witch or something. Her mother and grandmother share the same gift, which comes in handy from time to time. Like when I have some scoop to share. You see, Odelia works for the Hampton Cove Gazette, and with the exclusive scoops we provide her she can practically fill the entire paper, earning her a reputation as the best reporter in town. She’s also the only reporter in town, apart from Dan Goory, the Gazette’s geriatric editor and Odelia’s boss.

Finally, Odelia came shooting out of the bathroom, smelling deliciously of fresh soap, and looking fresh as a daisy. For the occasion she was wearing a T-shirt that read‘John Paul George for President,’ beige slacks and her usual Chuck Taylors. She was also wearing a look of panic over how late it was.

“If you’re coming, you better get a move on!” she yelled as she hurried down the stairs, then came pounding up again to snatch her smartphone from the nightstand and raced out again.

“Looks like she’s going to have to skip breakfast,” I told Dooley.

“And coffee,” he said. “I wonder how she’s going to survive without her daily dose of caffeine.”

“I’m sure she’ll manage,” I said, reluctantly dragging my eyes away from the feathery feast outside my window, where the birds were still tweeting up a storm. Odelia had once made us swear never to kill a bird, and even though it killed us, we’d kept up our bargain so far. It was hard, though. Very hard. But in exchange for curbing our innate savagery she got us some of those delicious cat treats from time to time. What can I say? Life’s a trade-off.

Dooley and I gracefully dropped down to the floor, and languidly made our way to the landing, then descended the stairs. While Odelia rummaged around, grabbing her notes she’d prepared for the interview, her recorder and a couple John Paul George CDs she wanted signed, and dumped it all into her purse, I gobbled up a few tasty morsels of kibble, took a few licks of water, and then waited patiently by the door until Odelia was ready.

I knew it would take her at least three runs to fetch all of her stuff. She was one of those humans who are extremely disorganized. So when she finally yelled,“Ready or not, I’m going!” Dooley and I had been waiting ten minutes. We were eager, actually. Hot to trot, in fact. It’s not every day you meet your idol, and I knew Odelia was as excited as I was to meet JPG in the flesh. She because she’d grown up with his music, and I because I was finally going to find out if the rumors about that p?t? were true. No matter who I had to bribe, I was going to sample me some of those delicious goodies.