Purrfect Obsession. Purrfect Betrayal. Purrfectly Clueless

10. PURRFECT OBSESSION

Chapter 1

I was lying on my back in the backyard, languidly gazing up at the clouds slowly drifting past my field of vision. My paws were dangling wherever they might, my tail was drooping, and it wasn’t too much to say that all was well in this best of all worlds.

Some would have called it the calm before the storm, but they would be cynics. This wasn’t the calm before the storm. This was the calm after the storm, as there had been rain overnight, and the grass was still soggy and drops clung to Odelia’s roses’ petals.

Next to me, my best friend and co-feline Dooley lay in the same position, also idly gazing up at the sky. There was apprehension in his gaze, though, his usual response to looking at that big slice of heaven up above. His eternal fear is that a piece of this heaven might one day come crashing down on us. And no matter how many times I’ve assured him that this is simply impossible, there’s no way to dissuade him from these erroneous ideas.

“I don’t know, Max,” he said now, shaking his head.

“What don’t you know?” I murmured, my eyes drifting closed. There’s only so much to look at when you’re gazing at the sky. It’s blue and all looks pretty much the same to me.

“I don’t know about this lying around, doing absolutely nothing.”

“It’s what us cats do best,” I said. “We lie around doing nothing.”

“But it just feels… wrong, you know.”

“No, I don’t know. What are you talking about?”

“This … “ He gestured at the sky. “And this…” he added, indicating the smooth lawn that was our favorite hangout spot on a sunny day like this—especially after a nice storm.

“I don’t get it, Dooley,” I said lazily. “Please elaborate.”

“I just don’t understand how you can lie around while there’s so much to be done.”

“Nothing needs to be done,” I said, my eyes now having closed completely, my head slumping to the side. I felt a power nap coming on, and nothing Dooley said was going to prevent me from enjoying it tremendously.

“There’s probably murder cases to be solved.”

“Not a single one.”

“Or-or missing humans to be found?”

“Nobody’s gone missing as far as I know.”

“Dangerous diseases to be fought? Pests to be eradicated? Threats to be thwarted? Max! We can’t just lie around here while who knows what is happening all around us!”

“Oh, just relax, Dooley,” I muttered, on the verge of tumbling headfirst into sleep.

“Relax! How can I relax when… when…”

But at this point I’d finally found sleep, or maybe sleep had found me? At any rate I’d become blissfully oblivious of Dooley’s ramblings. There’s only so much angst one can stomach. And it was with extreme reluctance that I pulled myself from the depths of a super slumber when a sharp voice interrupted a sweet dream about a new addition to cat choir, a tabby tease who wasn’t merely blessed with great pipes, but was quite the looker to boot.

“Max! Wake up! Something terrible has happened!”

It was Harriet, who’s a member of our posse. Immediately, I was up and ready for action. When Dooley is yammering on about all sorts of imaginary threats, I’m not bothered. That’s just par for the course. But when Harriet does the same… it means something’s up.

“What’s wrong?” I didn’t even bother rubbing the sleep from my eyes. It’s one of the advantages of being a cat: there’s never any sleep that needs to be rubbed. One moment we’re practically comatose, the next we’re shifting into high gear, all at the drop of a hat. Or the flash of awhite whisker, as in this case. That’s millions of years of evolution for you.

“It’s Odelia,” said Harriet, a strikingly pretty white Persian. She was slightly panting. With my keen detective’s eye, I could tell she’d been running. Or was under duress. Or both.

“Odelia! What’s wrong with Odelia?” Dooley practically yelled.

Odelia is our human, and in that sense pretty much our raison d’?tre one could say. I know, I know. Cats are supposed to be these independent creatures, unattached and unfettered. Don’t let our stoic and aloof look fool you, though. We do care about our humans, and we don’t like it when something bad happens to them. That’s why I was ready to skip sleep and follow Harriet without a moment’s hesitation, and so was Dooley.

“What happened to her?” I asked, already fearing the worst.

“Just hurry,” said Harriet, and sprinted ahead of us at a high rate of speed. We tore through the backyard, tore through the small strip that separates Odelia’s house from her neighbors, and tore out across the front yard. Ours is a corner of the world where people still enjoy living in houses that are detached, semi-detached or even attached. No apartments for us, and a good thing, too. I wouldn’t enjoy being an apartment cat.

We were out onto the street and Harriet still showed no signs of slowing down. Already I was breathing heavily. I’m a cat built for cuddles, not for speed. Some people call me portly, but they’re wrong, of course. I’m big-boned is what I am. A matter of genetics.

“Where are we going?” I managed between two stertorous intakes of breath.

But Harriet didn’t even bother to respond. It just confirmed to me how grave the situation really was. Usually she’s the chatterbox of our small clowder of cats, and the fact that she hadn’t uttered more than a few words told me this was bad. Very bad indeed.

She tore around the corner and I could tell we were heading for the park, the very place I’d been dreaming about only moments before. Oh, how long ago this now seemed.

“I don’t like this, Max,” Dooley intimated.

Well, I didn’t like it either, but at that point I was too winded to respond. Into the park Harriet zipped, and Dooley and I followed, still going full tilt. We almost bumped into her when she abruptly stopped, and then we just stood there, me panting, she squinting.

“There,” she said finally, pointing with her fluffy white tail.

I looked there. And I didn’t see a thing.

“What are we looking at?” I asked therefore, scanning the horizon for a sign of a bleeding and grievously harmed Odelia, most probably on the verge of expiration.

“There!” she repeated, this time pointing with her paw.

And that’s when I saw it. Dooley must have seen it too, for he drew in a sharp breath.

It was Odelia, only she wasn’t bleeding. Worse, she was locking lips with a man.

And this man was not—I repeat this man was NOT… her boyfriend Chase Kingsley.

Chapter 2

“Max?” asked Dooley, his voice croaky and weird. “What’s going on?”

“Can’t you see what’s going on!” Harriet replied in my stead. “That’s our human down there, being treacherous!”

Treacherous was not the word I would have used. As far as I know humans are not a monogamous species. Not unlike cats—though some cats have been known to be loyal to their mate until their dying day. Harriet is not one of those cats, so I found her indignation highly hypocritical. I didn’t mention this, though, for Harriet’s claws are as sharp as her tongue, and I wasn’t looking for a lashing of either. Still, I wouldn’t have thought it possible for Odelia to cheat on her boyfriend. I’m not an expert on human love, but I’d had the impression true love was involved in this particular pairing of a reporter and a local copper.

“Max! What’s going on?!” Dooley practically wailed.

“I think what’s going is that Odelia, being human and therefore flawed, is making an error of judgment,”’ I said carefully. Dooley is not one of your tough cats. He’s sensitive, and situations like these are something he should be shielded from, not encouraged to witness.

I directed a reproachful glance at Harriet, who should have known better than to subject Dooley to this kind of sordid scene. Of course my glance went right over her head.

“She’s enjoying it,” said Harriet now.

And she was right. Odelia clearly was enjoying this romantic interlude with one who was not her chosen mate.

“I don’t like this, Max,” said Dooley, not taking this well. “I don’t like this at all.”

“I don’t like it either,” I intimated, “but such is life, Dooley. Sometimes the people we think we know best surprise us. And not always in a good way.”

Just then, a third person approached Odelia and the unknown male, and spoke a few words. The effect of these was immediate. Odelia extricated herself from her kissing partner and got up from the picnic blanket on which she’d been sitting. She stood, hands on hips, while this third person, another male, seemed to explain something to her. Possibly giving her pointers on her kissing technique.

The scene, apart from the shock effect it had on those who’d become used to seeing Odelia linked in body and soul to Chase Kingsley, was otherwise a peaceful and idyllic one: there was a picnic basket present, a picnic table, and even a dog lying at the lovers’ feet.

I did a double take. Wait, what? A dog? Where did this mutt come from? Odelia didn’t have a dog. Or did she?

Dooley had spotted the dog, too, for he produced a sound like a kettle boiling.

“Looks like Odelia is moving on,” said Harriet, voicing the thought that had occurred to me as well.

“She’s getting rid of us and getting… a dog?” I said, now shocked to the core.

“Looks like,” Harriet confirmed. “She was petting him before, and he seemed to like it.”

I was speechless. Kissing strange men was one thing, but getting a dog to replace her loyal brace of cats? That was too much. No, really! After everything we’d done for her she was getting a dog? This was treason of the highest order. Worse. This was a travesty.

I decided enough was enough, and set paw for the despicable scene.

“Max, no!” Dooley and Harriet cried out, but I paid them no heed. Odelia had gone too far, and I was going to speak my mind and tell her what was what, even at the price of having to be within twenty yards of a canine, which was the limit I usually set myself.

When I approached the picnic scene, Odelia was frowning, listening intently to the second, non-kissing male, a man with a fashionable red beard that curled up at the end, as was the current trend. Meanwhile the kisser was munching on a sandwich, not a care in the world.

The dog was the first one to become aware of my impending arrival, for he lifted first his head, then his upper lip in a vicious snarl.

I hesitated, but decided this mission was too important to be derailed by the pathetic snarls of a cat’s mortal enemy.

“Odelia!” I said, deciding to come in strong and pitch my sentiments before she had a chance to become distracted by her lover and the bearded hipster dude.

Odelia looked up, that frown still furrowing her forehead.

“A word, please?” I said, keeping a keen eye on the canine, whose upper lip was trembling now, his eyes shooting menace and all manner of mayhem in my direction.

“Max!” said Odelia, clearly surprised to see me. She quickly shut up. It’s not a fact widely known, but Odelia belongs to a long line of women who talk to cats. From generation to generation, this gift is passed, and a good thing, too. For far too long, humans have turned a deaf ear to a cat’s desires. Now, with Odelia and her mother and gran to listen to our plea, our voice is no longer ignored. Who also wasn’t ignoring my voice was the dog.

“What do you want, cat?” he snarled, his hind legs tensing as he got ready to pounce.

“This doesn’t concern you, Lassie,” I said, holding up my paw. “So back off.”

“This is my terrain, cat,” he shot back, tail wagging dangerously. “Get lost or else.”

“Or else what?” I asked, sounding a lot braver than I was feeling. Those fangs did not look appealing. Saliva was dripping from them, and already thoughts of rabies and front-page articles about a blorange cat being mauled to death started popping into my mind.

“You don’t want to find out,” he said with a low growl that seemed to rise up straight from his foul innards.

Odelia, who’d followed the tense interaction, crouched down next to me. “Max,” she said quietly, so the kisser and the hipster couldn’t overhear. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said, as haughtily as I could. “I saw you,” I added. “Canoodling with that… that… man.”

Odelia frowned, as if not comprehending what I was saying. Then, suddenly, she laughed! Actually burst out laughing!“Oh, Max,” she said, giving my head a patronizing pet. “That’s just acting!”

“Whatever it is, it’s despicable,” I said. Then I frowned. “What do you mean, acting?”

She gestured with her head to the kisser, who now stood chatting with the weird red beard.“That’s Don Stryker. He’s a New York stage actor. And the man with the beard is Wolf Langdon—he’s our director.”

And then I remembered. Odelia had mentioned something about performing in something called Bard in the Park, and had even mentioned snagging an important role.

I stared her.“You mean this is all… acting?”

“All of it,” she assured me, then took an apple from the picnic basket and took a bite, plunking down next to me. She lowered her voice. “And let me tell you, it’s no picnic so far. This guy’s breath… “She rolled her eyes and waved a hand in front of her face. “Hoo-wee.”

In spite of myself I laughed.“Garlic. I can smell it a mile away. I thought you liked it.”

“No, Max. Women don’t like it when men chew a clove of garlic before a big kissing scene. Allegedly that’s how Clark Gable annoyed Vivien Leigh inGone with the Wind.”

I decided to skip the small talk. I hadn’t forgotten about my real beef. “What about that,” I said, pointing at the rabid dog, still snarling and softly growling in my direction.

“Scoochie?” she said. “He’s in the scene. He’s an actor, too.”

“The dog is an actor?”

“Sure. Dogs can be actors. Pretty much any animal can be an actor.”

This was news to me. Slightly mollified, I asked the most important question of all:“So… He’s not going to live with us?”

Odelia laughed again and patted my head.“Silly Max. Of course not. He’s going home with his trainer once rehearsals are over. And right now he lives with the rest of the troupe at Whitmore Manor. In his own room. Did you think I’d adopt a dog and not tell you guys?”

“No, of course not,” I said, “Don’t be silly.” But behind her back I gave Harriet and Dooley, who still sat watching from a safe distance, two thumbs up. Or rather, since cats don’t have those nifty and very handy opposable thumbs, two claws up at any rate.

“Hey, what’s wrong with adopting a dog?” growled the dog.

“Nothing,” Odelia was quick to say.

That’s how my human is: kind to animals, children and even dogs.

“I thought so,” grumbled the mutt.

The man Odelia had identified as the director now turned to her.“I liked what you did there, dahling,” he said, “but could you give it a little more—I don’t know—oomph?”

“Oh, sure,” said Odelia, getting up. “What sort of oomph are we talking about here?”

She began discussing the ins and outs of the oomphs of acting in detail, and I soon lost interest. Instead, I glanced around and saw that a small film crew sat hiding behind a nearby tree. They’d filmed the whole thing! Probably to learn from and correct later.

I just hoped they hadn’t filmed Odelia and me chatting. Because that would definitely not be good!

Chapter 3

Odelia watched Max stalk off, his tail in the air, his rear end wagging slightly, and couldn’t help but smile. She could only imagine what he must have thought when he saw her kissing Wolf Langdon like that. In the distance, she saw Dooley and Harriet, anxiously awaiting Max’s return with news from the front line. Cats were sensitive creatures, who hated change. Kissing a strange man must have spooked them a great deal. Just then, her real-life boyfriend appeared, crossing the plain to where she stood. Don, who’d been snacking on the contents of the picnic basket, saw him coming and a dark cloud seemed to descend over him. “Don’t tell me Captain America is going to cause trouble,” he said.

“Chase isn’t here to cause trouble,” Odelia said. She didn’t much care for her co-star. Apart from his garlic antics, he was arrogant and not much fun to be around. And he had a habit of sticking his tongue down her throat, even though it wasn’t part of the script.

Chase had joined them and gave Odelia a quick peck on the lips.“Hey, babe,” he said in that low rumbling voice of his. He held out a hand to shake Don’s, but the actor simply ignored him and walked away, a dirty look on his otherwise handsome face.

“See ya around, Poole,” Don muttered, and was off.

Chase retracted the hand.“What was that all about?”

“Oh, nothing. Don has this thing about the boyfriends of his leading ladies.”

Chase quirked an eyebrow.“A thing? What thing?”

“He was once on the receiving end of a punch thrown by an actress’s spouse. His nose has never been the same.”

“He must have given him reason,” said Chase, looking on as Don made his way over to the makeup table for a touch-up and a flirtatious chat with the makeup ladies.

“I’d say he did,” said Odelia. “Don Stryker has a reputation as a ladies’ man, and he likes to make sure that reputation stays earned.”

Chase quirked his other eyebrow.“Should I worry about this Stryker guy?”

She smiled.“No, of course not.” She draped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. “Nothing to worry about at all.”

“That’s more like it,” he rumbled, then lifted her up into a full-body hug. If Don was watching, the hug might be interpreted as a gesture of possessiveness but Odelia didn’t care. There was only one man in her life and that was Chase, and no arrogant Broadway star could change that.

“So I was thinking,” said Chase now.

“Yes?”

“I was thinking we haven’t gone out on a date in a while—just you and me.”

She liked where this was going.“So what do you suggest?”

“I suggest dinner and a movie? There’s a new place in Happy Bays we haven’t tried. It’s called The Dusty Tavern and they’re rumored to serve some damn fine clam chowder.”

“The Dusty Tavern it is, then.”

“I have some stuff to finish up at the precinct. Pick you up at the house at seven?”

“Sounds great. See you later, Chase.”

“See you, babe,” he said with a happy grin, then was off, but not before giving Don the kind of look that would remind him of the punch that had given his nose that tweak.

Odelia sank down on the blanket and took the script she’d tucked underneath the basket and opened it to a well-thumbed page. This was the first time she was playing a part in a play, or any performance, for that matter. She had no acting experience whatsoever, but she didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if this production would be seen by more than a few people.

Bard in the Park was a strictly local setup, designed to entertain natives and tourists alike. Not exactly the start of a great career in acting. More like a fun way to while away the time and do something different for a change. Also, Dan Goory, her editor at the Hampton Cove Gazette, had instructed her to write a piece on the acting troupe, and the recurrent phenomenon of summer public theater, and what better way to write about Shakespeare in the Park than to immerse herself in its world and even play a small part?

She frowned as she read through her lines. The hardest part about this acting thing was memorizing those big chunks of text. She was constantly in fear she would drop a line and get absolutely, completely stuck, with people all staring at her. Which was why she was determined to study hard and nail her dialogues until she could recite them in her sleep.

And she was still muttering William Shakespeare’s memorable and immemorial lines to herself when a loud scream suddenly pierced the air. She looked up, startled, and was even more surprised when she saw a small group of people standing around nearby, the director and some of the other troupe members among them.

She got up and hurried over, afraid someone had become unwell and had collapsed.

When she reached the small throng Wolf Langdon, his face white as a sheet, was already clutching his phone to his ear and barking,“She’s dead. She’s dead, I’m telling you!”

Finally Odelia reached the commotion. On the ground, her face frozen in a mask of shock, a young woman lay motionless, her eyes staring unseeingly up at the people all crowding around her. It wasn’t hard to figure out she was, indeed, dead, what with the big knife sticking out of her chest. Odelia recognized her as Dany Cooper. Her understudy.

Chapter 4

“So… I don’t get it,” said Dooley once I’d explained to him and Harriet why Odelia had been kissing this man.

Harriet rolled her eyes, but I cut in before she could launch a scathing comment.“What don’t you get, Dooley?”

“So it’s all right for humans to cheat on their significant others when the person they’re cheating with is an actor? Is that how it works?”

“Oh, Dooley,” said Harriet, unable to contain herself. “They weren’t really kissing. They were acting!”

“It looked like they were kissing to me,” said Dooley.

It looked like that to me, too.“They were only pretending to be kissing,” I said. “None of it is real. Like inGame of Thrones? When they cut off people’s heads, the way they do on that show, the actors still get to walk away when the scene is over. Heads attached.”

“Yes, but Odelia has to lock lips with this guy, right?”

“Right,” I admitted.

“I mean, it’s not CGI like inGame of Thrones. It’s her actual lips on this guy’s actual lips. And they’re actually kissing. Swapping bodily fluids and rubbing tongues and all that.”

“You don’t have to be so graphic about it,” I grumbled.

“No, but I’m right, right?”

“I guess so.”

“So what’s the difference between a movie kiss and a real kiss?”

Tough question.“Well, for one thing, a real kiss has emotion. Humans kiss each other because they love each other—like Odelia and Chase. This guy, that’s not real.”

“It looked real to me.”

“Yes, well, it’s not,” said Harriet snappishly. “So just drop it, will you?” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’ve wasted my time on this nonsense. And I still haven’t been able to find Brutus, the reason I came to the park in the first place.”

We all looked around, as if fully expecting Brutus to suddenly pop up from behind a bush or a tree.

“I don’t know,” said Harriet. “I haven’t seen him all day. It’s not like him to go off without a word.”

“Why don’t we ask that nice dog over there to sniff him out?” Dooley suggested.

“That nice dog just threatened me,” I said. “So he’s not a nice dog at all.”

“But he is a dog, and dogs are known for their ability to find missing persons—and cats.”

We all turned to Scoochie. Dooley wasn’t the smartest cat in the world, but even not-so-smart cats get these sudden flashes of insight. Maybe now was Dooley’s turn for a flash.

“Are you nuts?” Harriet asked suddenly. “Why ask a dog to do a cat’s job? Our sense of smell is superior to that of a dog—didn’t you know that?”

“Um…” said Dooley, blinking.

“We have 200 million receptors in our noses, far more than any dog.” She tapped Dooley’s nose. “So repeat after me. We don’t need dogs. To suggest we do is ridiculous.”

“We don’t need dogs,” Dooley muttered meekly.

“We don’t need dogs,” I echoed.

“But if that’s true, why haven’t you been able to track down Brutus?” asked Dooley now, risking hide and hair to point out the fatal flaw in Harriet’s reasoning.

She narrowed her eyes at him, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“Dooley has a point,” I said, backing up my buddy.

“Hrmph,” was Harriet’s only response.

Just at that moment, there was a loud commotion nearby. Humans were converging on the scene, and even Odelia hurried to where a small group of other humans stood.

“Uh-oh,” I said. “Looks like something’s going down down there.”

“I don’t care,” said Harriet. When we turned to her, she explained, “I cared when I thought Odelia was cheating on Chase, because…” She bit her lower lip. “I’m starting to think Brutus is cheating on me.” She studied her paws. “There, I said it. Now make fun of me all you want.”

“We’re not going to make fun of you, Harriet,” I said.

“Yeah, we’re your friends,” Dooley chimed in. “We’d never make fun of you.”

Except when she was being unreasonable, which was a lot. Or when she was doing her diva thing again, which was also a lot. But apart from that? Never.

“Hey, you guys,” a voice sounded behind us. It was Tigger, a member of cat choir who lives near the park. “You gotta see this. Brutus is making out with some hot chick.” Then he caught sight of Harriet and gulped then quickly snuck away, clearly fearing her wrath.

“Brutus is making out?” Harriet said between gritted teeth. “Where? Come back here, you little weasel!”

But Tigger was gone. Harriet’s eyes were flashing and she quickly retraced Tigger’s steps, both Dooley and I following in her wake. It didn’t take us long to arrive at the duck pond that’s one of the park’s main features. Children can usually be found there, gleefully ignoring the big ‘DON’T FEED THE DUCKS’ sign and feeding the ducks. There’s a nice copse of beech trees just across the little bridge that spans the pond. Harriet was already sniffing the air, trying to pick up the scent of her errant mate.

Dooley and I exchanged a glance of worry. If Tigger was right, and Brutus was indeed making out with‘some hot chick,’ there would be hell to pay. Not to mention scars to nurse.

Harriet stalked across the bridge, and Dooley and I followed at a little distance. I love Harriet, and she’s one of my best friends, but there are times she scares the crap out of me, and this was one of those times.

We’d arrived on the other side of the bridge, and kids were already pointing in our direction and yelling, “Look, mama, kitty catties!”

Those same mamas probably thought we were stalking a duck breeding ground, and judging from the irate looks on their faces were getting ready to chase us away. What they didn’t know was that we weren’t advancing on a duck breeding ground but apparently on a Brutus breeding ground.

Arriving at the small crop of trees, Harriet sniffed twice, then made a growling sound at the back of her throat. I sniffed, too, and immediately knew we were on the right track. Or the wrong one, depending whose side you were on.

“Brutus!” Harriet bellowed, then made a mighty leap and arrived at the little clearing between the trees.

And there he was, not exactly making out with a hot female feline, but still in flagrante delicto: Brutus, that black, butch cat, was sniffing the butt of a gorgeous redhead.

Chapter 5

Brutus looked exactly like what he was: busted!

“I, um, I’m…” he stammered, then finally resorted to that old standby: “It’s not what it looks like!”

“Oh, puh-lease,” said Harriet, and would have folded her front legs across her chest if she’d been human. “Don’t give me that crap. Don’t tell me you were acting, too.”

“Huh?” said Brutus. To his credit, this was not an excuse he’d considered.

The redhead, whom I’d recognized as Darlene, one of cat choir’s femme fatales, appeared unruffled. She gave Harriet a faux curious look. “So you’re the girlfriend, huh?”

“You know I’m the girlfriend, Darlene,” Harriet snapped. “Though not for much longer. In fact I’m officially handing the girlfriend baton to you.” She slashed the air with her tail for emphasis, then lifted her chin imperiously. “And I sincerely hope you choke on it.” Having delivered this message, she then promptly turned on her heel and stalked off.

Darlene laughed a throaty laugh. She seemed to find the whole thing hilarious.

Brutus was less sanguine.“Sweetums, wait!” he yelled, and would have gone after Harriet if I hadn’t stopped him with a gesture of my paw.

“No good?” he asked.

“No good,” I returned.

I’d known Harriet practically from the cradle, and when she was in a vengeful mood like this, the only thing that would result in Brutus going after her was fur flying and claws slashing tender skin. I might not have liked Brutus in the past, but close association had warmed me to the butch cat, and I couldn’t stand the thought of him having to lick his wounds after a close encounter with Harriet’s wrath. The only words appropriate in a situation like this came to me and so I spoke them.

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

“You guys seem to have a lot to talk about so I’ll leave you to it,” said Darlene. “Toodle-oo.” And she sashayed off, every sign of the feline femme fatale in her manner.

The three of us couldn’t help but stare after her. I might not be a big fan of cat fatales, but that doesn’t mean I can’t admire them when I meet one. Finally, she rounded the bend and when no sounds of cats fighting reached my ear, I assumed Harriet hadn’t been lying in wait and her rival had gotten to safety unchecked and unharmed.

Once again I turned to Brutus.“What were you thinking?” I repeated.

“Yeah, what were you thinking, Brutus?” Dooley echoed.

Brutus looked devastated.“You have to help me, Max. You have to talk to Harriet.”

“All the talking in the world isn’t going to help you now, Brutus. You’ve officially done it.”

“But that’s just it. I haven’t done a thing!” he said, wringing his paws.

I uttered a sound of exasperation.“We saw you! You were… doing whatever you were doing. In the bushes! The clich? to end all clich?s!”

“Officially this is not a bush. It’s a thicket,” Dooley corrected me.

“I wasn’t doing anything! I was never going to let it go that far.”

“You had your nose up Darlene’s butt, Brutus.”

“I hadn’t!”

“Well, from where I was standing it looked like you had.”

“A matter of perspective. My nose wasn’t anywhere near her butt!”

“Who cares where your nose was?! You were in the bushes! Making out!”

“Thicket,” said Dooley, then shut up when I gave him a foul look.

Brutus plunked down on his haunches, a look of distress in his dark eyes.“I know how bad this looks, but… have you never been in a long-term relationship and started to wonder?”

Since I’d never been in a long-term relationship, or a short-term one, I wisely kept my tongue.

“Sometimes you just wonder if you’ve still got it, you know?”

“No, I don’t know. What are you talking about?”

“Yes, what are you talking about, Brutus?” Dooley said, looking as puzzled as I was feeling. “Harriet is the finest cat for miles around. How can you cheat on her?”

Dooley had a point. Harrietwas the finest cat for miles around. What’s more, Dooley had always had a thing for Harriet, so this whole Darlene thing came as a shock to him, too.

Brutus raised a helpless paw.“You wonder if you still have it.”

“Have what?” I asked.

“It! The pizzazz. The fatal attraction.”

“I don’t get it,” I said, in case that wasn’t obvious from the confused look on my map.

Brutus sighed.“I used to be a big thing before, you know. Cats would fawn over me. I’d strut my stuff and heads would turn. I was the Tom Brady of cats, all eyes on me. Queens wanted to be with me—tomcats wanted to be me. I was top cat. Leader of the pack. Head of the herd. Now, no cat looks at me twice, because they know I’m with Harriet. So they don’t even bother. It’s like I’ve become invisible, all of a sudden. Not worth their while.”

I hardly would have called Brutus, a buff black cat, invisible, but that just goes to show that you can never know another cat’s mind. “You’re not invisible, Brutus,” I said.

“No, I see you, Brutus,” Dooley concurred.

These words didn’t seem to do much to buck the butch cat up, though. If possible, he slumped even more. “Look, I love Harriet with all my heart—she’s the only cat for me. But sometimes a fellow just wants to know if he hasn’t lost it, you know? So when Darlene suggested I meet her in the bushes—thicket—I jumped at the chance. I guess I was flattered. Happy that my fatal charm still worked. And it did! Only it worked a little too well, I guess.”

“You were sniffing her butt, Brutus,” I said.

“I wasn’t! Honestly! I would never cheat on Harriet. You know that, Max.”

I did know that, but I also knew things looked bad for Brutus. Very bad.

“You gotta help me, Max,” he said now, a pleading note in his voice. “You gotta explain to Harriet. Make things right. I can’t lose her. I’m nothing without that cat. Nothing!”

“I don’t know, Brutus. I know Harriet, and she’s not the forgiving kind.”

“Oh, man,” he moaned. “I’ve really done it this time, haven’t I?”

And with these words, he slunk off in the direction of the pond. For a moment I expected to hear a plunge and was already bracing myself to jump in after him to save his life. No plunging sound came, though, and the moment passed. I should have known. Even in the depths of despair, Brutus wasn’t the kind of cat to take his own life. Probably because he knows he’d have to repeat the procedure nine times, and who wants to be bothered?

“What are we going to do, Max?” asked Dooley.

“First we’re going to give Harriet a little time to cool off,” I said.

“And then we’re going to talk to her? Convince her Brutus wasn’t really cheating on her? That he was doing exactly what Odelia was doing: playing make-believe?”

I smiled at Dooley’s quick insight. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. We’re going to play Cupid, Dooley.”

“It’s going to be tough.”

“Yes, it is. But when have we ever turned away from a challenge?”

“Never.”

I eyed him appreciatively.“Any other cat would have jumped at the chance to use this opportunity to seduce Harriet—become her shoulder to cry on and move in on her.”

Dooley looked sincerely shocked.“No way! Harriet loves Brutus and he loves her. I would never do that to two of my best friends.”

“You know what, Dooley? You just might be one of the most chivalrous cats around.”

He looked confused.“What’s chivalrous, Max?”

“You, Dooley. You are chivalrous. A regular knight of old.” These words didn’t seem to mean a thing to my friend, so I added, “You’re a true friend. Now let’s go and check out this hullaballoo. I do believe Odelia just may have stumbled upon yet another murder.”

“She should probably stop doing that. It’s a very bad habit.”

Chapter 6

“Who was she?” asked Uncle Alec.

Odelia was seated on a bench, still experiencing the kind of dread that accompanies the discovery of a fellow human being whose life has been snuffed out prematurely.

“Her name was Dany Cooper.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen her around,” said Alec, glancing in the direction of the crime scene, which his officers had cordoned off and where the coroner was now conducting his investigations.

“She’s not from around here. We haven’t exchanged more than a few words but I think she’s from Albany, though she’s been living in New York for the past couple of months, with aspirations of becoming an actress on the stage.”

And now someone had murdered her. Just like that. In broad daylight, with dozens of witnesses around. Odelia shook her head.“I don’t get it. Someone must have seen something, right? This kind of thing can’t just… happen.”

“We’re still talking to anyone who was in the vicinity,” the Chief assured her.

And now he was talking to her. Not in his capacity as her uncle, but as the chief of police. She was a witness, after all. It felt a little weird being in this position. Usually she was the one asking the questions. This time, tragedy had struck close to home. She watched as her cats came trotting up. Careful, as if not wanting to disturb her. She didn’t see Brutus or Harriet, though. Just Max and Dooley. She smiled down at them as they took up their position underneath the bench, eavesdropping on her the way they eavesdropped on all humans. Cats were the ultimate detectives: nobody ever noticed them, or if they did, they didn’t care. So they heard stuff—stuff that wasn’t intended for anyone’s ears. This way Odelia had solved quite a few mysteries. She hoped she’d be able to solve this one, too.

“So what was her role, exactly?” asked Alec.

“She was supposed to learn my part, in case anything happened to me, so she could take over and allow the production to go on.”

“Do you think the production will go on now? I mean, this is a pretty tragic event.”

“I haven’t talked to Wolf yet.”

“Wolf?”

“Wolf Langdon. He’s the director. He’s been running these Bard in the Park productions for years, setting them up all across the state. He’s a big name on Broadway, but his summers are spent showcasing Shakespeare in small towns like Hampton Cove. His way of introducing the bard—and theater—to the masses.” And discovering local talent.

She watched as Chase interviewed Don Stryker. She could have told him he was wasting his time. Don was notoriously self-absorbed. He wouldn’t have noticed someone as low on the totem pole as Dany Cooper. Not important enough to cozy up to, and not attractive enough for a quick roll in the hay, and therefore negligible. Besides, he had a perfect alibi: he’d been over by the craft services table, chatting up one of the interns.

“Was she killed at that exact spot?” asked Odelia. “Under that tree?”

“Looks like,” said Alec.

“But how is that even possible? She was in full view of everyone.”

“Not really. From what I can gather they were all so focused on you and this Stryker guy they didn’t bother to turn around. Otherwise they would have noticed how one of their own was being murdered right behind them.”

“But we were taking a break. Don was over by the craft services table and I was…” She lowered her voice. “… talking to Max.”

Uncle Alec shrugged. It was obvious how he felt about the crew’s powers of observation.

Odelia gestured to one of the cameramen.“They’re filming this whole thing. Not just the rehearsals but the entire process. Wolf hopes to turn it into a documentary. Maybe they caught the killer on tape?”

“We’re going to sift through every inch of film,” said Alec, making a note in his little notebook.

“Maybe someone else saw something?” She pointed to a mother pushing a stroller on a pathway that curved around a grassy slope that stretched between their rehearsal spot and the duck pond. “That path over there offers a perfect vantage point to see the tree.”

Uncle Alec let his reading glasses dangle from his neck and fixed her with his mellow brown eyes. They were slightly hooded, which gave him a hangdog look.“We’re working on it, honey. I’ve got all my people combing through the park. Don’t you worry. We’ll get whoever did this. They won’t get away with it.”

She nodded. His words offered a measure of comfort, though she couldn’t help but fret over the whole thing. “Somehow I have the feeling I’m responsible,” she said suddenly.

“That doesn’t make any sense. How are you responsible for what happened to Dany?”

“Because she was my understudy. If not for me…”

“If not for you, she would have been someone else’s understudy. This has nothing to do with you,” he said, and he was right. It didn’t stop her from feeling terrible about the whole thing.

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “Somehow this feels… personal.”

“How so?” asked Uncle Alec with a frown.

“I don’t know—but it just does.”

“Trust me when I tell you this wasn’t personal, Odelia. So don’t you go blaming yourself now, you hear?” She nodded, and looked up when her uncle suddenly muttered, “Holy crap.”

“What is it?”

He was looking at his phone, then held it up so she could see.“Picture of the murdered girl. Notice anything?”

She stared at the picture of Dany Cooper and smiled a wan smile.“She was beautiful.”

“She was,” Uncle Alec confirmed. “She was also the spitting image… of you.”

Chapter 7

I didn’t like all this talk about people resembling Odelia being murdered. I mean, if humans want to kill each other, that’s perfectly fine with me, but please don’t touch MY human. She’s off-limits. And so are the members of my human’s family, for that matter.

“I don’t like this, Dooley,” I said therefore.

Dooley stared at me dumbly. This was his line, and I’d just blatantly stolen it.

“I don’t get it,” he said.

Now that was a line I wasn’t ready to steal, as I got it just fine. “A woman has just been murdered and she was the spitting image of Odelia,” I explained.

“Oh, I don’t like that, Max,” he said. Then he thought about this some more and said, “I still don’t get it. Why would anyone murder a woman just because she looks like Odelia?”

I hitched up my shoulders in a shrug.“That, I don’t know,” I admitted. I mean, we all know humans are weird, and there’s often no rhyme or reason to what they do. This seemed like another case in point.

“Are you saying there’s someone going around murdering Odelia’s lookalikes?” Dooley pressed on.

“We won’t know for sure until he kills his second Odelia lookalike,” I said. The moment I spoke the words, I realized how this sounded.

“I hope that doesn’t happen, Max,” said Dooley, echoing my thoughts exactly.

And judging from the shocked look on Odelia’s face, who was being interviewed on the bench right above our heads by Uncle Alec, she was thinking the exact same thing.

“Chances are this is just a coincidence,” Alec was saying.

Odelia nodded numbly.“I’m sure you’re right. Just a horrible coincidence.” She stared at her uncle’s phone some more. “I never realized before how closely she resembled me. Or how closely I resembled her. We could have been sisters.” She frowned. “So that’s why Wolf chose her. Not just because she wasa great actress but because we’re like twins.”

“At any rate,” said Uncle Alec, tucking away his little notebook and heaving his bulk from the bench with a groan, “I can assure you we’ll get to the bottom of this. And you better take the rest of the day off.”

“I can’t,” she said. “I still have an article to write for the Gazette.”

“Not about the murder, surely,” said Alec, incredulous.

“The moment Dan found out about it, he reserved space on tomorrow’s front page. I need to get my piece in by six tonight so he can still make his edits.”

“Can’t he write the piece himself? You’re in no state of mind to write about this. Too close to home,” he explained.

“I’ll be fine, Uncle Alec,” she said, giving him a brave smile. “I’ve handled worse. Remember when Mom was a murder suspect?”

“This is different,” Alec said, and he was right. “I think you better sit this one out, honey. I’ll tell Chase not to involve you, either.”

“But…”

He held up a meaty paw.“No buts about it. I have a bad feeling about this, and I wouldn’t be much of a cop if I didn’t follow my gut from time to time.” He slapped his voluminous belly. “God knows it’s big enough not to ignore. You’re not to get involved in this case and that’s my final word.”

Odelia looked mutinous, but knew better than to argue with her uncle. They’re both cut from the same cloth and if there was ever a competition for obstinate mules, it would be a photo finish.

“Fine,” she said finally, but without much enthusiasm.

Dooley pointed to Odelia’s back. “Why is she crossing her fingers, Max?”

“That’s what humans do when they say one thing but plan to do the exact opposite.”

Dooley shook his head.“Humans are so weird.”

“Tell me about it.”

Uncle Alec left to join his people and Odelia turned to us.“Listen, you guys. We need to figure out who killed Dany. You’re going to be my eyes and ears on this one, all right?”

“All right,” I said, nodding earnestly.

“I’ll be your ears and Max can be your eyes,” said Dooley happily.

“Um…. fine,” said Odelia.

“And Brutus can be your nose and Harriet can be your tongue,” Dooley continued.

“Dooley,” I said warningly.

“And Kingman can be your…” Dooley frowned. “Um, what other sense is there?”

“Touch—but that’s not important,” I said. I turned to Odelia. “We’ll all be your eyes and ears and whatever else you need. Rest assured, we’ll nab this nasty killer for you.”

“Oh, and make sure Uncle Alec doesn’t find out,” she added. “I’m not supposed to participate in this particular investigation.”

I tapped my nose with my paw.“Don’t worry. Mum’s the word.”

Odelia went off in the direction of the park exit, and I realized Dooley was staring at me.“Why did you do that thing with your nose, Max? And why is mom the word?”

“It’s an expression,” I said, already plotting our next course of action. Detection work is a highly specialized business, and by now I was getting to be an old hand at the thing.

“But why mom?” Dooley insisted. “Why not dad’s the word? Or grandma’s the word? They’re nice words. Definitely as nice as mom.”

“It’s not mom—it’s mum. Mum’s the word.”

“What’s a mum?”

“A British mom.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know, Dooley. It’s just one of those things.”

“Why not grandpa or uncle or aunt or cousin or nephew or—”

“We need to talk to the ducks,” I said, cutting off Dooley’s stream of eloquence.

“Ducks?” he asked, looking up in alarm. “Why ducks?”

“Because this place is full of ducks,” I said, pointing to a piece of particularly smelly duck poop park cleaners had overlooked. “So one of them is bound to have seen something.”

“I don’t like ducks,” Dooley intimated.

Trouble was, ducks didn’t like us, either. So how were we going to win their trust—enough for them to give us their undivided attention—not to mention critical information?

There was only one way: we’d have to be subtle.

Good thing subtle is a cat’s middle name.

Chapter 8

Oddly enough, Brutus was still where we’d left him: seated near the thicket of beech trees that were now the silent witnesses to his crime of adultery—or, in Brutus’s reading, the crime of wanting to see if his fatal attraction still held sway. When we arrived, he looked up, a gleam of hope in his eyes. “And? What did she say?” he asked.

“That the murdered girl looks just like her, and not to tell Uncle Alec,” Dooley returned promptly, causing Brutus to shoot him a look of confusion.

“Huh?” he said.

“I think Brutus was referring to Harriet, not Odelia,” I said. And for the sake of our suffering friend, I added, “We haven’t talked to Harriet yet. There’s been a murder in the park, and Odelia wants us to find out who did it.”

“Oh,” said Brutus, deflating. It was obvious he didn’t care about murder now that his love life was in a shambles.

“We’re going to talk to the ducks,” Dooley announced. “Even though we don’t like ducks, we’re going to suck it up for Odelia’s sake. And we’re going to be subtle about it.”

“Well put,” I complimented my friend. “First we need a plan of campaign…”

“I’ll do it,” said Brutus, still sounding morose. “Ducks like me. They know I’m a kindred spirit.”

I highly doubted this, but who was I to rain on Brutus’s parade? He was down in the dumps, and this could buck him up. Besides, he was as much a feline sleuth as the rest of us.

“But only on one condition,” Brutus said, pushing himself up from the spot where he’d dropped after watching Harriet shove off in a huff.

“What’s that?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t my entire week’s supply of Cat Snax. I was willing to do a lot for my human, but I drew the line at sacrificing my favorite snack.

“You’re going to talk to Harriet the first chance you get, and you’re going to make her forgive me for my mistake.”

“I don’t know if I can guarantee the last part,” I said. “But I’m definitely going to talk to Harriet on your behalf.” Once she’d had a minute to simmer down. Or a couple of weeks.

“Deal,” said Brutus, then drew himself up to his full height and walked out of the protective cover provided by the thicket and out into the open.

I have to admit I was curious to find out what he meant by the phrase,‘Ducks know I’m a kindred spirit.’ Cats and ducks don’t have all that much in common. Apart from the fact that we are about the same size—or at least most cats. I’m a little bigger. In fact two ducks can easily fit into my frame. But that’s because I have big bones—something we’vealready discussed—and I’m okay with that. It’s a blessing and a curse, as Mr. Monk would say.

Brutus, meanwhile, was making a beeline for a group of ducks, lazing about on the edge of the pond. The ducks, now aware of the arrival of a feline, were making soft quacking sounds, then, when Brutus made no sign of changing course, they all plunged into the pond as one duck, and quickly paddled to a part where Brutus couldn’t possibly reach them.

“Ducks!” Brutus yelled from the shoreline. “I come in peace!”

But they weren’t having it. They kept darting annoyed and frankly hostile glances at the black cat, and made no attempts to enter into communication with him.

“I know some of my people have in the past behaved atrociously towards some of your people!” he bellowed. “But I’m not like that! I may look like a dangerous predator to you, but I’m also just a cat, standing in front of a duck, asking him to help him!”

Nothing doing, though. As moving as his speech was—with some parts sounding awfully familiar somehow—the ducks weren’t budging.

“Tell them about the kindred spirit thing!” I shouted.

Brutus held up his paw in response.“Ducks. I know I’m a cat, but it may surprise you to know that I’m also an honorary duck. That’s right. I can swim like a duck! Yes, I can!”

Dooley and I exchanged a puzzled glance.“What is he talking about?” I said.

“I think he’s saying he can swim like a duck.”

“That’s what it sounded like to me. Doesn’t he know that cats don’t swim?”

“Maybe nobody ever told him?”

We both looked on, the spectacle taking on the entertainment value of a major car crash. You know how it is. It’s hard to look away.

The ducks were moving about restlessly. They might not have deigned to respond to Brutus’s ramblings, but they’d certainly understood every last word of what he was saying. And the part about being able to swim was clearly causing them considerable concern.

Brutus looked over to where Dooley and I were still officiating the role of his ringside audience, and gave us another paw up. I gave him a paw up back.

“He’s going to drown,” said Dooley.

“Better get ready to call for help,” I said.

Brutus put one paw into the pond, then the next, and soon he was up to his chest in the murky water. A nearby frog gave him a weird look, then hopped off. Probably to get his buddies. This they had to see.

“See?” Brutus shouted to the ducks. “I’m a real duck! I can swim!”

He must have stepped into a hole, though, for suddenly he disappeared, only to return spluttering and sputtering above the surface.

“Help!” he screamed. “I can’t swim!”

“I knew it,” said Dooley. “Are you going to save him or am I?”

Only trouble was, neither of us could swim either.

Meanwhile Brutus was going under for the third time…

Chapter 9

Chase, who was interviewing witnesses, suddenly found his attention snagged by a disturbance taking place near the duck pond. A frown marred his handsome and exceedingly masculine face, and he looked over. The sight that met his eyes surprised him, to say the least. Two cats were seated on the side of the pond, mewling at the top of their lungs. Meanwhile a third cat had stumbled into the water and was in a situation of clear and present danger. Chase, who instantly recognized the cats as—reading from left to right—Max, Dooley and Brutus, wasted no time pondering hows and whys, immediately dropped his notebook, and broke into a 100-meter dash that would have made Usain Bolt proud.

Without a second’s hesitation, he jumped headfirst into the pond and disappeared beneath the water’s surface. With a few powerful strokes of his arms he reached the spot where he’d last seen Brutus, and then he was diving down into the murky depths. This was Odelia’s cat, and if it drowned she’d be devastated. He could not allow that to happen.

He opened his eyes and frantically searched about. But apart from a few reeds and other dwellers of the deep, he saw no sign of a black cat. He rose to the surface, took a big deep gulp of breath, then went under again, this time scanning closer to the edge of the pond. And then he saw the little bugger: Brutus was floating near the sandy bottom.

He grabbed the poor animal and pushed himself off towards the surface, holding him up like that weird painted monkey holding up the lion cub inThe Lion King. Elton John didn’t break into song when he finally emerged, but Max and Dooley did. Or at least they broke into jubilant praise.

Chase carefully placed Brutus on the bank of the pond and to his elation the black cat, who now looked more like a drowned rat than his usual debonair self, coughed up about a gallon of water, then piteously meowed something only cats were equipped to understand. His two little friends were still meowing up a storm, and not for the first time Chase found himself thinking how great it would be if he could actually understand them.

Odelia, who must have been alerted to the drama that was unfolding, came running.“Oh, my sweet, sweet Brutus!” she cried, concern lacing her voice. “What happened?”

“Beats me,” said Chase. “I guess he accidentally fell into the water.”

To his surprise, her words apparently hadn’t been directed at him but at Max and Dooley, who meowed something in response.

Weird. Almost as if they could understand what she was talking about.

Onlookers had arrived, and were all rubbernecking to their heart’s content. It wasn’t murder this time but a cat in peril but that didn’t stop them from taking out their damn smartphones and filming the heck out of the scene.

Chase ground his teeth.“Put those phones away!” he bellowed, getting up.

He hated this habit of people to film any disaster scene they encountered. Used to be that people actually showed up at the scene of an accident to help out. Now they just wanted to film the whole thing so they could post it on their social media.

“I swear to God,” he grumbled. “I’m going to bust some heads.”

But Odelia’s slender fingers enveloped his bicep and she said, “Thank you so much, Chase. You’re my hero.”

His anger melted like snow before a blistering sun and when she hugged him to show her gratitude, his mind went momentarily blank. When she pulled back, he said,“Oh, Christ. I’ve made you all wet.” Her blouse, her jeans… She was almost as soaking wet as he was.

“I don’t mind,” she said, a smile lighting up her face.

He knew those cats of hers meant the world to her, and he was glad he’d been there to save Brutus. If he’d been even one minute late in responding…

Oddly enough, a small flock of ducks now came floating up, quacking softly. They waddled onto the shore and approached Brutus, first hesitantly, then with more gusto. And then the weirdest thing happened: the ducks quacked, and Brutus meowed. Almost as if they were communicating! Crazy, of course, but then such was life down here in Hampton Cove. As close to a regular Garden of Eden as humanly possible, complete with talking animals. He shook off the thought. Murder and mayhem didn’t happen in the Garden of Eden, but they sure happened in this adopted town of his too often to be dismissed.

“You better go change,” said Alec, who’d also joined them. “Or else you’ll catch a cold. Here.” He shrugged off his light sports jacket and handed it to Chase. “Remove your shirt and put this on.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“That’s an order, Detective Kingsley,” said the Chief, warningly raising an eyebrow.

Grudgingly, he removed his shirt. As he did, there were gasps from their small audience, and women all along the shoreline gripped their smartphones even more intently than before.

Odelia grinned.“Careful, Chase. You don’t want to cause a scene.”

“Yeah, Chase,” Alec echoed. “Disturbing the peace. I’ll have to caution you.”

“You don’t caution the town hero who just saved a cat from drowning, boss,” said Chase, shrugging into his superior officer’s jacket. It was several sizes too big but it was warm and dry. “If you do, then you’ll cause a disturbance.”

Alec took in the swooning women.“I guess you’re right. At least take the man’s picture, Odelia.”

“Why?” asked Odelia, puzzled.

“For your story! For God’s sakes, woman. Are you a reporter or not? I can see the headline now. Hero Cop Saves Drowning Cat.” He clapped Chase on the shoulder. “This is the stuff of legend, son. You’re in the town annals now.”

“I’m just glad the little fellow is all right,” said Chase, giving Brutus a gentle stroke along his fur. Odelia had wrapped him up in her own sweater but he was still shivering violently. “Better take him to the vet,” he suggested, and he could have sworn that at the mention of the word ‘vet,’ all three cats started screaming bloody murder.

Chapter 10

While Chase was showing off his manly humps and bumps to an adoring crowd of ladies, I was recovering from the shock of watching one of my best friends almost end up in a watery grave.

“How are you, Brutus?” I asked.

He looked dazed, and nor did I wonder. If I’d been in his paws, I’d have looked dazed, too.

“I don’t think I’m an honorary duck,” he said finally.

“No, I could see that.”

“Good thing Chase was there to save you,” said Dooley.

We all looked up at the hero savior with admiration written all over our features. This wasn’t the first time Chase had had to save one of us. The last time it had been me, and Chase had rescued me from a ledge. I’d had an epiphany, then. Chase, with his long hair and masculine features, was nothing short of a come-again Jesus. Dooley actually believed he really was Jesus. The only thing missing was his sheep, but Chase had probably ditched his trusty barnyard animal for a Ford pickup truck. Even Jesus has to keep up with the times.

“The man is a miracle worker,” said Brutus reverently. “I didn’t believe you that time when you said he was Jesus, Dooley, but now I see you were right. He’s an amazing human.”

“And he’s your human,” I reminded Brutus.

“Not really. My real human is Chase’s mom, though now I consider your human my human.”

I know. It gets complicated. That’s because humans have a habit of passing their pets around like candy. A bad habit. Lucky for us Odelia is not like that. She’s already told us more than once that she’s our human for life, and I believe her. She’s one of those rare humans who keep their word, and who truly love their pets.

To my surprise, a small flock of ducks now waddled up onto shore and approached us. One duck hesitantly drew away from the pack.“When you said you could swim, I thought you were kidding,” said this duck. Judging from her feathers she was not only the spokesperson but also the leader of the pack. Though truth be told, I’m not an expert on ducks. “But you weren’t. You’re an amazing swimmer,” the duck continued.

“I am?” Brutus asked, surprised.

“Sure. The way you dove right to the hidden depths of this here pond of ours, and went in search of those tasty water bugs that like to lurk in the muck below…” She raised her eyes heavenward. “Amazing. How did you know that was where the best snacks were located?”

“I, um…”

“And you managed to snag two and haven’t even consumed them yet,” she said, gesturing with her beak to two water beetles happily frolicking on Brutus’s belly.

“Aargh!” he said, then quickly brushed them off with a flick of his paw.

They landed right in front of the duck, who stared from the beetles to Brutus.“May I, sir?” she asked, almost reverently.

“Sure. Go ahead. I, um, I’m not hungry.”

The duck gobbled up the beetles with a crunching sound—a horrible sight. “Thanks,” she said, after heaving a soft burp. “I appreciate it, Duck Burt.”

“Brutus,” Brutus corrected her.

“On behalf of our community,” said the duck, “I want to bid you welcome in our home, Duck Burt. Our pond is your pond. Our bugs are your bugs.” She then glanced at Dooley and I. “Are these your friends?”

“Yep. Max and Dooley. My best friends in all the world.”

The duck nodded in our direction.“You’re most welcome, too. Though the fat one should probably restrain himself. This is a small pond, and there are only so many bugs to go around.”

It took me a moment to realize she was referring to me. And I was just about to launch into a very vocal protest when I caught Brutus’s eye. ‘Don’t ruin this, Max,’ his expression said. ‘Just play along. Nice and easy.’

Grudgingly I buried a few choice comments about fat shaming.

“So did you happen to see what happened out there?” Brutus asked, now that the ice was broken and he’d officially been installed as an honorary duck.

“You mean the slaying? Yes, I did happen to see what happened,” said the duck, much to my surprise and not inconsiderable excitement.

“So?” asked Dooley, who couldn’t contain his glee. “Who did it?”

“Who did what?” asked the duck, looking Dooley up and down. She must have liked what she saw, for she smiled. Then again, nobody could ever accuse scrawny Dooley of eating more than his fill.

“Who murdered the girl?” I asked.

Her smile vanished.“Please tell the fat one to be more precise,” she said, much to Brutus’s glee, for he was trying in vain to suppress a giggle.

“A girl was murdered just now,” I said icily. “Her name was Dany Cooper. You said you saw what happened. So who was it? Who killed her?” I must have allowed some of my not inconsiderable resentment to suffuse my words, for she visibly stiffened.

“Duck Burt, perhaps you could tell your fat friend that ducks don’t respond well to mockery.”

“Mockery?” I cried, flapping my paws. “I’m not mocking you.”

“You are, sir,” said the duck haughtily. “I find your tone offensive.”

I clamped my jaws shut. I was starting to dislike this duck.

Brutus said,“Please forgive Max. He hasn’t had his breakfast this morning and he gets grumpy. So what can you tell us about the girl being murdered? Did you see the killer?”

The duck pursed her beak.“I did. I didn’t get a good look at his face, but it was definitely a human male. He was wearing a yellow parka and sunglasses and a Knicks cap. Then again, you know what it’s like. All humans look the same to us.”

I could have told her this was not the case, but I wasn’t talking to this duck again.

“Anything else you can tell us?” asked Duck Burt.

The duck smiled a sweet smile.“I like your technique. All that splashing around? How did you know it would stir up so many of those delicious snails, slugs and worms? And could you teach us this amazing technique? There is much we can learn from you, Duck Burt.”

Brutus opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment Chase spoke those fateful words that send shivers down the spine of every cat the world over:‘Take him to the vet.’

We all wailed in horror and in shock, our honorary duck-hood suddenly forgotten.

Chapter 11

“So how exactly did you end up in the water?” asked Odelia.

Brutus, who was riding shotgun because of the fact that he was the patient today, looked sheepish.“I, um, wanted to take down a witness statement from the ducks, and… I guess I must have ventured out too far. Before I knew it, in my enthusiasm, I was sinking.”

Odelia gave him a quick sideways glance.“You’re a real hero, do you know that, Brutus? You actually risked life and limb to find out who killed poor Dany.”

“Thanks,” said Brutus, then sneezed not once but five times in quick succession.

Odelia gave him a look of concern. She didn’t like the sneezing. But at least he was alive. For a moment, after Chase had fished him out of the pond, she’d feared he was gone, and it had been like a knife through the heart. If anything ever happened to any of her cats… “Good thing Chase was there,” she said now. “If not for him…”

“We should have jumped in,” said Max ruefully. “I wanted to, but…”

“You can’t swim either. I know. If you’d jumped in, Chase would have had to save the both of you.”

“Maybe Chase should teach us how to swim,” Dooley now piped up. He’d been awfully quiet. Watching his friend almost drown had clearly made a big impression.

Odelia laughed.“I’ll have to tell him that. It’ll give him a big laugh.”

“No, but I mean it,” Dooley insisted. “If Brutus had known how to swim, this would never have happened.”

“Dooley is right,” Max said, nodding. “What if Chase isn’t around next time? What if no one is around and we accidentally stumble into the pond?”

“Accidentally being the key word here,” Brutus said.

“If we know how to swim, we can save ourselves.”

Odelia frowned.“Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.” She’d never realized just how dangerous that park could be. Certainly at night. She knew about cat’s eyes being a lot more powerful than a human’s. But they weren’t infallible. On a moonless night, things got so dark that even cats wouldn’t be able to see where they were going. They might inadvertently stumble into the pond and… She shivered just thinking about it. With the swiftness that is the hallmark of your top reporter, she made a decision. “Let’s do it. Let’s teach you guys how to swim. Only I don’t think Chase is the right person for the job. For one thing, he won’t be able to understand you. No, I’ll do it. Or, better yet, Mom, Gran and I will do it. Only we’ll have to do it someplace where we won’t be overheard, or even seen.”

“Maybe we could go down to the beach one morning, very early?” Max suggested.

“Better not. Even when there’s no wind, those waves will be tough to negotiate for a beginning swimmer. And I don’t want you swept out into deeper waters. It has to be a pool. A shallow one.” Maybe a bathtub? Her own was too small, though, and so was her mom’s.

“There must be private pools we could sneak into,” said Max. “The Hamptons is teeming with pools.”

That was true. In the course of her work as a reporter for the Gazette she’d seen pools that would have made Esther Williams salivate. “I’ll figure it out,” she said. “Now tell me again what that funny little duck said.”

“Yellow parka—Knicks ball cap—sunglasses,” said Brutus dutifully.

“And she’s sure it was a man?”

“Pretty sure. Though she wouldn’t recognize his face if she saw it.”

“Mh. Too bad. Do you think we should take her to a sketch artist?”

Max, Dooley and Brutus shared a glance in the rearview mirror, then shook their heads in unison.“She’s not your most reliable witness,” said Max.

“What makes you say that? She volunteered the information, didn’t she?”

“She also declared Brutus an honorary duck on account of his unique bug-gathering skills,” said Max.

“And she called Max fat,” Dooley added.

Those were all proof she was an excellent eyewitness. Then again, it was one thing to take a cat to a sketch artist, and pretend Gran or Odelia were actually supplying the witness statement—like they’d done recently—and quite another to take a duck. Although the duck could talk to Max, and Max could join Odelia at the sketch artist. Or they could even take the sketch artist to the pond, and Max could translate the duck’s quackings to Odelia, who could relate them to the artist. She sighed. It all seemed fairly unfeasible. Not to mention the sketch artist would probably think she was nuts. Not that this would be a new thing. Many people in Hampton Cove thought she and her mom and grandma were a little… weird. The reputation of the Poole women as crazy cat ladies was well-established amongst the locals.

“Okay. For now I’ll tell Uncle Alec to look for a man dressed in a yellow parka, wearing a Knicks cap and sunglasses.”

Which could be anyone. And the killer would have removed the outfit the moment he left the scene. It still boggled the mind anyone would be so brazen to attack a woman in a public place in broad daylight and get away with it.

“Do I really have to see Vena?” asked Brutus for the umpteenth time.

“Yes, you do,” she said. “You almost drowned, Brutus. And that water is not clean. Who knows what diseases you picked up. You might have to get shots.”

“Shots!” he cried, sitting up.

“Or maybe not. Let’s see what Vena says.”

“That water was pretty rank,” Dooley agreed.

“Ducks poop in the water. Just saying,” said Max.

Brutus gulped.“The things I do for my human,” he muttered.

She stroked his head.“And your human appreciates it very much. Though next time you might want to be more careful. We don’t want to lose you, buddy. Talking about losing—where is Harriet? I haven’t seen her all day.”

Another shared look in the rearview mirror.“Um…” Brutus began.

“She’s home,” Max quickly interjected. “Doesn’t want to miss quality time with Gran.”

“Quality time with Gran,” Odelia repeated slowly. That was a first. There was something they weren’t telling her. She decided not to press them. Sooner or later they’d come clean.

She stomped her foot down on the gas, and soon they were hurtling along the road on their way to the vet. She parked right in front of Vena’s office and carried Brutus in, while Max and Dooley entered under their own steam. They might not like it, but Vena was a life saver. Literally. Soon she’d checked out Brutus and declared him fit for duty. Apparently even swallowing a gallon of pond muck hadn’t put a dent in the butch cat. Brutus clearly was a force to be reckoned with. And then they were cruising for the homestead. It had been a long day and Odelia couldn’t wait to be home and put the day’s events behind her.

But first she had an article to write. Or, rather, two: one about Dany, and one about Chase’s brave rescue mission. It was Dany Cooper she couldn’t stop thinking about, though.

And she knew she wouldn’t rest until she’d nailed the bastard who killed her.

Chapter 12

Gran was watching one of her daytime soaps. Duane Packer,General Hospital’s head of gynecology, had just been unmasked as a fraud and a cheat. He’d never even graduated from high school, his medical knowledge gleaned from textbooks he’d gotten at a garage sale. Not only was he a fraud, he’d also been wearing a toupee for the past ten years. One of the nurses had snatched his toupee, revealing his shiny bald dome. Gran didn’t know what was worse: the knowledge that General Hospital’s most popular gynecologist had been looking up women’s vajajays for the past decade without a license, or the fact that he had no hair. At any rate, she was glued to the television as Dr. Packer was arrested by Port Charles’s Chief of Police Jeb Strong and was being outfitted with a nice pair of shiny cuffs, paraded through the hospital in a long scene, for everyone to see what a cheat he was.

“Look at that bald pate,” muttered Gran. “Look at the way it reflects the light. My God, what kind of a monster do you have to be to pretend to have a full head of hair while you’re as bald as Kojak.”

Next to her, Harriet made a dismissive noise.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re too young to remember Kojak. Let me tell you, Telly Savalas was a fine specimen. He was bald but he was gorgeous. His baldness made him even sexier. Not like this asswipe Duane Packer,” she added, gesturing at the screen.

“Men are scum,” Harriet intoned listlessly.

“You’re damn right about that,” said Gran. She studied her feline couchmate for a moment. “Trouble in paradise, toots?”

Harriet shrugged.“I caught Brutus sniffing another cat’s butt. He claims it wasn’t what it looked like.”

Gran roared with laughter.“A classic! How many times have I heard that before!”

In actual fact she hadn’t heard it all that often. Her husband had said it, obviously, when she’d caught him with his pants down boning her best friend Scarlett Canyon. Jack had been bald, too, which might be where her intense dislike for bald men stemmed from. She wasn’t going to delve too deeply into the matter. She was, after all, not a frickin’ shrink.

“I mean, it wasn’t as if they were actually canoodling or anything.”

Gran winced. She preferred to keep the mental picture of her cats strictly PC. Her own motto was that if it wasn’t something Disney would approve of, she didn’t want to know about it. Just imagine Bambi canoodling with Bambo. Or the Lion King with the Lion Queen. Stuff like that was enough to spoil the one thing in her life that remained unspoiled.

“So where is Brutus now?” she asked, without taking her eye from the screen, where Dr. Packer was still being paraded through the hospital, at a snail’s pace, subjected to the scorn of the entire staff and a full wing of patients who, for some reason or other, suddenly had gained the capacityto raise themselves from their sickbeds for this special event.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” said Harriet, intently scrutinizing a nail.

Gran knew better than to persuade Harriet to give Brutus a second chance. She knew for a fact that Brutus and Harriet were mates for life—just like Odelia and Chase. And her own daughter and that moron Tex. Even though she liked to project an image of grating irascibility, Vesta Muffin was a lot more sentimental than she liked to admit. A good love story never failed to bring a tear to her eye. And the love story of Harriet and Brutus was near and dear to her. “So who’s the bimbo?” she asked instead.

“Darlene. I’ve seen her around. She’s in cat choir, of course.”

“Of course.” Cat choir was the hub of Hampton Cove’s cat population’s social life. Not much singing went on, as far as Gran could ascertain, but a lot of schmoozing and yapping did, much to the neighbors’ discontent. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Harriet shrugged.“What can I do? I’d like to bury my claws in his face. Rearrange his features. But then what? It will give me a fleeting moment of satisfaction but his wounds will heal. If there’s a god they will turn into vicious, nasty scars, and the world will move on. Brutus will live happily ever after with his redhead bimbo, always providing she doesn’t dump him on account of his new facial arrangements, and I’ll be left to wonder why.”

Christ, Gran thought. Her cats’ lives were even more complicated thanGeneral Hospital.“Forget about Brutus,” she said. “There’s plenty of good cats for a babe like you.”

Her words didn’t seem to buck Harriet up. On the contrary. They seemed to darken the cloud that had appeared over her head. “I could always cut his throat when he’s sleeping,” she said, pondering ways and means as she spoke. “Or I could gut him. Make him drown in his own blood. And then when he’s screaming and choking, he’ll look into my eyes and know it’s me who did that to him. Or I could cut off his—”

“Okay,” said Gran, getting up from the couch. “I think you’ve been watching too much HBO, missy. Didn’t I tell you never to watch HBO? Those shows will give you ideas.”

“I only watch what you watch,” said Harriet, resting her chin on her paws and staring melancholically at Dr. Packer, who’d finally reached the hospital vestibule and was now locked in a staring contest with the receptionist, a voluptuous blonde named Mandy.

Mandy and Dr. Packer had shared many intimate moments in the doctor’s office, and as the camera zoomed in on a discarded pregnancy test in the reception wastepaper basket, Gran gasped. “She’s pregnant! Mandy is going to have Dr. Packer’s baby!”

“Darlene probably wants Brutus’s babies,” Harriet commented with a sigh. “Too bad he’s been snipped. Maybe I should tell her. Maybe I should tell all of cat choir that Brutus is that way. At least they’ll know what they’re getting.”

“Oh, honey, forget about Brutus,” said Gran. “It’s his loss and your gain if he’s too busy chasing skirts to see that he’s missing out on the best thing that ever happened to him.”

Harriet gave her a sad smile.“Gee, thanks, Gran. Maybe you should tell that to Brutus. He doesn’t seem to have gotten that particular memo.”

Just then, the door swung open and a small procession entered: Odelia was the first, followed by Marge, and then three cats: Max, Dooley and… Brutus.

Instantly, Harriet’s back went up and so did her tail, which was distended to a degree Gran had never seen before. She was also making hissing sounds at the back of her throat.

“Harriet!” said Marge. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden!”

“Get that cat out of here,” said Harriet in clipped tones. “Before I do something stupid.”

“Harriet, sweetums!” Brutus cried. “Nothing happened!”

“Get. That. Cat. Out. Of. Here!”

“Tootsie roll, please!”

Harriet suddenly streaked towards Brutus, who produced a loud squeak and then streaked off, his tail between his legs, Harriet screaming,“And don’t come back!”

Chapter 13

Brutus was wandering the streets of Hampton Cove, feeling lost and alone. More than the fact of being chased from his own home by his former girlfriend, it was the knowledge that he had only himself to blame for his predicament that stung. If only he hadn’t been so stupid to try his fatal charms on Darlene. But the temptation had been too sweet to resist. She’d immediately invited him into the bushes for some nookie. Not that he would ever have allowed things to go that far. In fact, just when Harriet had descended on the scene with Max and Dooley, he’d already been forming the words in his mind: I’m sorry, Darlene. But there’s only one cat for me and that’s Harriet, so this is where I leave you. The words simply hadn’t rolled from his tongue yet, and then he’d been distracted by a flash that had momentarily blinded him, and then Harriet had appeared.

Still, if he hadn’t gone into those bushes with Darlene, he wouldn’t have been blinded by a flash, and it wouldn’t have looked as if he was sniffing Darlene’s butt.

He knew exactly how it looked and it was bad. Now Harriet would never forgive him, and he’d never be allowed to go home again and he’d be forced to roam these streets forever…

He’d arrived in one of those small alleys Hampton Cove was rife with, and gave the dumpster that was positioned near a store’s back entrance a dubious glance. Would he really have to eat from these dumpsters from now on? No more bowls filled to the rim for him? No more cozy couch to curl up on, or warm body to cuddle?

He heaved a deep sigh and felt sorrier for himself than he’d felt in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” asked a voice that cut like a knife.

He recognized that singular voice. And when a familiar head popped out of the dumpster moments later, he actually felt happy.“Hey, Clarice,” he said. “How are you?”

“Oh, it’s you,” said Clarice, and disappeared into the dumpster again, only to pop out once more seconds later. “You don’t look so hot, Brutus. Are you sick and dying?”

“Well, I did almost die this afternoon,” he admitted. “But Chase saved me. And then I was chased out of my own home by my own girlfriend, so I have seen better days.”

Clarice hesitated, then finally said,“You look hungry. I’ll share my food with you.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said, perking up. After that visit to Vena, he’d been looking forward to having a nice bite to eat. Harriet had put a stop to that. “What are you having?”

Clarice jumped out of the dumpster and gracefully landed on all fours. She was a feral cat, and looked as mangy and flea-ridden as any cat that lived on the street. She was also tough as nails, though, and she was Brutus’s friend. “It’s over there,” she said, looking left and right as she led the way. “Best and most juicy piece of meat I’ve found in ages.”

“Yummy,” said Brutus, his stomach already grumbling. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was before Clarice’s kind and generous offer.

“I was just looking through that dumpster for some seasoning,” she explained. “Even free cats like me like a bit of seasoning to spice up their meals, you understand.”

“Oh, I do understand,” he said. “It’s all in the seasoning.”

With a flourish, she removed a piece of newspaper.“Ta-dah.”

Before them lay a sad-looking rat, still intact, head, tail and all. Brutus retched.

Clarice licked her lips.“Seeing as you’re going to need this more than me right now, I’m going to let you have the first bite. I don’t do this for just anyone, so choose carefully.” She then leaned in and whispered, “Go for the hindquarters. They’re particularly succulent.” Brutus retched again, audibly this time, and Clarice studied him with a slight grin. “I should have known. You city slickers don’t know a good thing when you see it.”

“I’m much obliged, Clarice,” said Brutus, his stomach having gone from anticipatory rumbling to violent retching, “but I’m going to have to pass. I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.” He backtracked towards the mouth of the alley.

“City slickers,” Clarice grumbled, shaking her head. She then dug in, or at least Brutus thought she did. He couldn’t watch, turning away at the last moment. The munching and tearing sounds were bad enough.

He practically ran from the alley and into the road. And he would have been crushed by an oncoming vehicle if a bystander hadn’t had the presence of mind to snap him up at the last second and save him from being squashed like a bug.

The car’s driver didn’t even slow down, clearly heedless of the tragedy he or she had almost caused. Brutus caught a glimpse of a yellow parka as the car took the next turn, and then it was gone.

“You should watch where you go, buddy,” said the Good Samaritan who’d saved his life. Then: “Brutus? Is that you?”

Only now did Brutus realize that it was none other than Odelia’s dad Tex.

“What are you doing out here?” Tex asked, tucking Brutus into the crook of his arm, gently stroking his fur.

“I was lost but now I’m found,” said Brutus, who was starting to think that the men in Odelia’s family had a curious habit of saving his life today.

“I better take you home with me,” said Tex. “Did you get that guy’s license plate? I could have sworn he was aiming for you, buddy. Probably one of those maniacs. Some people just hate cats. Don’t know why but they just do.”

And while Tex prattled on, Brutus suddenly remembered what the ducks had said: the man in the yellow parka. The man who killed Dany Cooper!

And now had almost killed him…

Chapter 14

I was lying on my favorite spot on the couch while Odelia was getting ready upstairs. She was going out again, presumably to do a bit of sleuthing, in spite of her uncle’s instructions that she shouldn’t. Dooley was on the floor, licking his tail, and Harriet, who’d opted to spend the night at Odelia’s and not next door, was moping on the windowsill, catching those last few rays of the day before the sun called it a night and went to bed.

We had yet to mention‘the incident’ and though I was keen to do so, I’d refrained from broaching the subject until Harriet was good and ready. I’m not much of a psychologist but even I know that women, and definitely female felines, can’t stay quiet for long, especially when it concerns such a life-altering drama as the breakup of a relationship.

Harriet had already been darting anxious glances in my and Dooley’s direction but I’d ignored them all, pretending to doze off. The television was on, switched to Nickelodeon, where an episode ofPAW Patrol, of all things, was playing. Normally I hatePAW Patrol. I mean, who wants to watch a kids show about talking dogs? But today I didn’t mind one bit. Even though I’m not fond of dogs, I know for a fact that these dogs are all fictitious. Why else would they be so nice? Real dogs are never nice. They’re all smelly, nasty and possessed by a distinct anti-cat bias. In other words, not my kind of pets.

Dooley, taking a break from licking his tail, now looked up at me.“Max?”

“Mh?” I said, still pretending to be dozing. I didn’t have to work hard at it. I was, in fact, pretty beat, after the emotions of the day, and could have used a long nap.

“Why is it that dogs are always depicted as assisting the police in their investigations but cats never are? While it’s obvious that we’re better equipped to be police pets than dogs?”

“Beats me, buddy. I guess the dog lobby holds more sway in Hollywood than the cat lobby.”

This seemed to surprise Dooley, judging from the way his eyes went wide.“The dog lobby,” he said reverently.

“Yeah, dogs have powerful representation in Hollywood. Has to be. Why else do they get so many shows and movies made? While cats get few opportunities to shine, if any.”

“You know what, Max? I think you’re right.”

“I know I’m right.”

“Look at all those dog shows.Lassie, Benji, PAW Patrol. And hardly any shows about cats being man’s best friend. Even Richard Gere had a dog movie.Hitachi.”

“I think it wasHachi.”

“Obviously dogs have infiltrated Hollywood, and pushed cats out of the picture.”

“Even Disney is guilty in that department,” I said, darting a quick glance at Harriet. She was still moping, but I could tell she was dying to have a little chat about the topic that was near to her heart—and it wasn’t the underrepresentation of cats in the entertainment industry. “Name me a cat movie Disney made that depicts cats in a favorable light. I doubt you’ll find one.”

“That Darn Cat?” Dooley suggested. “The Aristocats?”

“Made in the stone ages,” I said. “Any more recent examples?”

Dooley thought hard, but couldn’t come up with a single one. “I’m sorry, Max. I don’t… Oh!Cats& Dogs. There were cats in that one, weren’t there?”

“Not Disney. And the cats were the villains,” I said. “Which is exactly what the dog lobby wants. No, face it, Dooley. Cats should probably create a lobby, like the dogs have, and march on Hollywood, demanding equal representation.”

“We should have our own franchise,” Dooley agreed. “LikeBeethoven, but with cats.”

“Or our own shows, likeLassie, but with cats.”

“Or even books. LikeOld Yeller, but with cats.”

“Will you two shut up about Hollywood for a moment,” Harriet suddenly burst out.

“Well, excuse us if we care about how underrepresented we are in Hollywood,” I said, feigning indignation.

“What I don’t get is how you can still hang out with Brutus after what he did to me,” Harriet said. “I’m your oldest friend, Max—not Brutus. I even distinctly remember you once calling him a usurper and an intruder in your own home. And now you’re taking his side against me? I expected more from you. And you, Dooley.”

“Me?” asked Dooley, surprised. “What did I do?”

“You chose Brutus over your oldest, dearest friend. And it’s something I will never forgive you for.”

Dooley seemed flabbergasted. I wasn’t. Harriet is prone to these spells of drama. It’s all those daytime soap operas she watches with Gran. They have affected her usually sunny disposition and made her prone to extreme melodramatic outbursts such as this latest one.

“I’ll have you know that I haven’t taken Brutus’s side,” I said.

“Me neither,” said Dooley. “I can’t take sides when I care for both sides equally.”

“Well put, Dooley,” I said.

“Besides, what were we supposed to do? Let Brutus drown?”

This was news to Harriet, apparently, for she jerked her head up from contemplating the setting sun and gave us a penetrating look.“Drown? What are you talking about?”

“Brutus almost drowned today,” I said. “If Chase hadn’t been there to pull him out of the duck pond, he wouldn’t be here.”

“Well, he isn’t here,” Dooley pointed out.

“That’s because Harriet chased him away,” I said. “Poor cat. First he almost died trying to extract vital information from a duck, then he had to take a needle in the neck from Vena, and when he finally arrives in his own home, what does he get? A furious female lashing out and chasing him away. He’s probably out there right now, sleeping with the rats and the other vermin, no choice but to live a life on the street, like a common reject.”

Harriet seemed to waver, then her expression hardened.“If he almost died, that serves him right. He shouldn’t have been mooning over Darlene’s backside like that.”

“For your information, he wasn’t mooning over Darlene’s backside any more than Darlene was mooning over his.”

“Darlene was mooning over Brutus’s backside a little, Max,” Dooley said.

“Fine. I’ll grant you that. She lured Brutus into this rendezvous, but the moment Brutus realized his mistake, he immediately set the record straight. ‘Frankly,’ he told Darlene, ‘there’s only one cat for me and that’s Harriet. So I’m very sorry but I can’t do this.’”

“And immediately buried his nose in her butt,” said Harriet scathingly.

“He did no such thing,”

“You can argue your point all night long, Max,” said Harriet, “but I know what I saw, and what I saw was Brutus getting ready to get down and dirty with Darlene and I, for one, am not the kind of cat who will stand for such nonsense.”

Just at that moment, Odelia arrived down the stairs, and Tex waltzed in through the sliding glass door that gives out onto the backyard. I should probably warn you that in this family, nobody ever knocks. People just come barging in whenever they please.

“Hey, Dad” Odelia said. “Brutus!” she added when she saw who Tex was carrying.

Brutus looked a little rattled, and perhaps the fact that Harriet already had her back up again had something to do with that.

“Look who I found roaming the streets like a critter,” said Tex good-naturedly. “And almost being run over, too.”

“I was almost run over by the killer of that Dany Cooper girl,” said Brutus, keeping a close eye on Harriet, who seemed ready to pounce.

“Run over!” Odelia exclaimed.

“That’s the second time I almost died today,” Brutus said, still eyeing Harriet keenly.

If these words were designed to exact a certain effect on the errant feline they didn’t miss it. Harriet’s distended tail shrunk back to normal proportions. But then she growled, “I don’t care how many times you almost get run over, you filthy love rat. I just hope next time someone finally succeeds.”

And after these particularly harsh words, she padded off in the direction of the sliding door, and then out. Before making her grand exit, though, she glanced over her shoulder.“From now on you’re all dead to me,” she said, addressing me and Dooley. “Adieu.” And then she was off.

Chapter 15

Amid all this cat drama, Odelia had only focused on one thing. She approached Brutus, who was still staring after Harriet.“Did you just say you were almost run over?”

Brutus nodded.“The same man who killed Dany Cooper. At least I think he was. He was wearing a yellow parka and a baseball cap and sunglasses.”

Odelia looked at her father.

“I’m sorry,” said Tex. “I didn’t get a good look at the driver.”

“What about the car? License plate number?”

Tex frowned.“Um…”

“Oh, Dad…”

“I’m a doctor, honey, not a detective. I don’t routinely scan cars for license plates or makes and models.” He held up a finger. “I do think it was a blue car, but don’t hold me to that. It could have been a trick of the light.”

“It was blue,” Brutus acknowledged. “And one of those boxy cars that are so popular with the British royal family.”

Odelia thought for a moment, then she and her father said in unison,“Range Rover.”

She took out her phone and brought up a picture of a Range Rover.“Is this the car you saw, Brutus?”

Brutus glanced at the picture and nodded.“Yup. Like I said. The boxy car those British royals are always promoting on TV.”

It was true. For some reason the British royal family were always driving Range Rovers, almost as if they were employed as that company’s PR representatives.

“And was he actually targeting you, you think?” she asked next.

“I think so. At least, he seemed to swerve in my direction and tried to run me down. So if that’s not intentional it was a very strange coincidence.”

“He switched lanes just so he could run down Brutus,” Tex confirmed. “It looked intentional to me.”

“I don’t get it,” said Odelia. “First this man kills my understudy and now he tries to run over my cat? What’s going on?”

“It could be a coincidence,” said Tex. “Maybe this man simply doesn’t like cats, so when he saw the opportunity to run one over, he took it.”

“And it’s possible there’s more than one man in a yellow parka,” Max offered.

Odelia chewed her bottom lip. Max was right. Then again, her gut told her this was no coincidence. That these two events, the murder of Dany Cooper, and Brutus’s brush with vehicular catslaughter, were related. This man was after something. And it had something to do with her.

Dad put his hand on her shoulder.“Odelia, honey. You better be careful. I don’t know what’s going on, but something tells me this man may be targeting you.”

She placed her hand on top of his and gave him a smile.“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll be careful.”

She took her purse from the kitchen counter and moved to the door.

“You’re going out?” asked Dad.

“A meeting with the rest of the Bard in the Park crew. The director called it. We’re going to sit down and try to process what happened this afternoon. Also, we need to decide whether to do the shows or simply cancel the entire project.”

“They’re not seriously thinking about going through with the performances, are they?” asked Dad incredulously.

“You know what they say, Dad. The show must go on. A lot of people put a lot of work into this project. It would be a pity to let them down. As Wolf sees it, we’ll dedicate the performances to Dany’s memory. I think she would have liked that.”

“But there’s a maniac out there, targeting members of your troupe. Not to mention… you.”

“It’s all right, dad. Chase will be there tonight. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Dad hesitantly. It was obvious he wasn’t too happy about letting his only child walk out of the house and into a potentially life-threatening situation.

“Chase is there,” she repeated. “He already saved one life today. He’s prepared to guard others with his own.”

“It’s true,” Brutus said. “Chase saved my life tonight.”

“That was a brave thing to do,” said Dad with a nod.

Odelia gave her cats a finger wave.“You guys better stay here tonight. There’s a cat killer on the loose, so no cat choir, all right?”

This didn’t seem to sit well with her cat troupe, but they grudgingly agreed.

And then she was off.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Wolf had set up shop in Whitmore Manor, a huge place that belonged to Marcia Graydon, patron of the arts and one of Wolf’s mother’s oldest and dearest friends. The sizable manor was located near the beach, just outside of town. Wolf was staying there, and so were other members of the crew. At least the ones that weren’t locals, like Odelia.

Dany Cooper had been staying there as well.

When Odelia arrived, Chase’s car was already parked in the driveway, so she eased her own, slightly more dilapidated truck, right next to his newer model.

She hadn’t seen much of Chase today. Uncle Alec had kept him busy working the case all day, even though he’d rushed home for a quick shower and some fresh clothes after his close encounter with a duck pond earlier. She was looking forward to seeing him again, and hopefully gleaning some information about the case. Even though Alec had made her promise to butt out this time, she couldn’t very well be expected to butt out completely. Not when this maniac was targeting not only her understudy but also her cats. Besides, as she’d told her uncle, her editor expected a full write-up, and so did thereaders of the Gazette.

The cop standing at attention at the door indicated just how serious Uncle Alec took the threat. She nodded a greeting at the policewoman.

“Chase is already here,” she said. “He’s been asking about you.”

It was a little odd to have to learn about Chase’s whereabouts from a third party, but then that was what happened when a detective and a reporter moved in together: in the heat of the moment, their schedules didn’t always overlap. At least tonight they would.

The meeting was being held in the manor’s large and opulently furnished dining room, where the crew took their meals when they weren’t rehearsing, either on location in the park or in the small theater in the basement.

When Odelia strode in, the room was already packed to capacity, people talking in hushed tones. Obviously the death of Dany had made a huge impression. Suddenly Odelia wondered if her dad hadn’t been right when he suggested the shows should be canceled. But that wasn’t up to her. It was Wolf’s decision to make—and the producers.

Wolf now clapped his hands and the room went quiet.

Odelia caught a glimpse of Chase in a corner, his notebook out, talking to a woman who looked like the spitting image of Odelia. Her second understudy, Odelia knew.

“I know we’re all deeply impressed and shocked by what happened at the park today,” Wolf said. “I just want you all to know that the local police have the matter well in hand. They’re on top of this terrible tragedy and the police chief himself has promised me in no uncertain terms that the full weight of his department is brought to bear on this case. They will not rest before they have the vile killer of our dear and sweet Dany Cooper in custody. New York doesn’t have capital punishment, as far as I know, which seems like a pity, under the circumstances.” He now gestured to Chase. “I’m sure you’ve all had a chance to meet Detective Kingsley, who’s in charge of the investigation.”

Chase gave a nod of acknowledgment, and Odelia couldn’t help but notice how the eyes of all the women in the room sparkled just that little bit brighter. She was sure his actions at the park today, where he’d repeated Colin Firth’s lakeside performance inPride and Prejudice, only with a live audience instead of a film crew, had something to do with that.

“Please give the detective your full cooperation. Hold nothing back. Even the most innocuous encounter or throwaway comment someone made may be the vital clue that will lead the police to the killer.” He clapped his hands again. “Now, about the shows. I know you’re all anxious to find out what Conway and I have decided.” He looked defiant. “We are not going to let this monster stop us from putting on the best Bard in the Park edition this part of the country has ever witnessed. We’re going through with the shows as scheduled and we’re going to dedicate them to Dany’s memory.”

Murmurs of agreement echoed through the room. It was obvious the director had struck the right note.

Odelia just hoped it would also prove to be the right decision.

Chapter 16

Odelia had sidled up to the director, the very flamboyant Wolf Langdon. They’d had a good meeting, and Wolf had been both dignified and defiant. It was obvious from the applause he received at the end of his address that his words carried the approval of all those present.

“Did you know Dany well?” Odelia asked Wolf while she took a sip from her root beer float. Even though there was ample opportunity to drown one’s sorrows in alcoholic beverages, Odelia had opted to keep a clear head and pick a non-alcoholic alternative.

“Not really,” said Wolf. “I know she was a dedicated actress who aspired one day to star on Broadway.”

“You didn’t hire her?”

“No, I didn’t. I leave those decisions to Conway, my producing partner. He’s been with me for years and years and years and I trust his judgment implicitly. I hire the key people—the stars—and leave the rest to Con. Some people may feel that a director should micro-manage but I’m not ofthat conviction. There’s enough on my plate already, and Con knows exactly what I want. Were you and Dany close?”

“Not really,” Odelia admitted. She’d hardly spoken to the girl throughout the preparatory stages of the production. Then again, suddenly being thrown into this project had been so overwhelming there had hardly been time to get to know every team member.

“She was a very studious young woman,” said Wolf. “Always to be found digging into her ebook reader. She was probably the only person in this production who could recite the verses of the bard backward and forward. She’d read all of his work and was a big fan.” He smiled a wistful smile at the memory. “A dedicated little wench, our Dany Cooper.”

“I find Shakespeare’s words a little… opaque,” Odelia said.

“I know. He’s tough to wade through. There’s an app I use. It adds little side notes and explanatory popups to put his words in the right historical context. Here. I’ll show you.”

He took out his smartphone and called up the app. And as it loaded, Odelia could see, in a flash, a message Dany had sent Wolf. It read:‘Hurry up, Wolfy. I’m naked and ready.’

It disappeared before she could read more, supplanted by the iconic face of William Shakespeare. And as Wolf went on to demonstrate the app, she wondered if she should say something. He made no indication to have noticed himself, though, and the moment passed.

So Wolf had known Dany a lot better than he admitted, huh? Weird…

Wolf was called away to deal with a creative dispute between two actors, and Odelia searched around for Chase, wondering where he’d gone off too. She saw he was chatting amicably with a pretty young actress. The woman had draped her hand on Chase’s arm and was laughing just a little too loudly at a joke Chase was apparently telling her. A twinge of jealousy sliced through Odelia at the sight of her boyfriend chatting up another woman, and suddenly she could relate to Harriet’s annoyance at seeing Brutus sniffing another cat’s butt. Not that Chase was sniffing the woman’s butt, but if left to his own devices he looked as if he were on the verge of doing just that.

She abruptly turned, and almost bumped into Don Stryker, who’d been standing right behind her.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” he said, steadying her by placing both hands on her upper arms. He immediately let go again, but not before giving her a gentle caress that sent shivers running down her spine—and not the good kind of shivers.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, quickly composing herself.

“The great and powerful Detective Kingsley. Obviously even our stalwart upholder of the law isn’t immune to the charms of the innocent and beguiling ing?nue.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, more brusquely than she intended.

He laughed an obnoxious laugh.“Oh, dear me. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Detective Kingsley, if I’m not mistaken, is not getting any tonight.”

“Oh, Don,” she said. “You are—”

“Incorrigible? That, I am. And if you care to apply that age-old remedy for the wandering eye, my dear, I’m all yours.” He gave her a wink. “Use me as you see fit.”

Ugh.“No, thank you.”

“Not that! You do have a dirty mind, young lady. No, I was thinking more along the lines of this scenario: you pretend to laugh uproariously when I whisper something in your ear, and I can promise you the handsome detective will suddenly find the company of the delectable Miss Grey a lot less appealing.”

He’d taken her hand again, and she jerked it free. Having to kiss this man was bad enough, but she drew the line at having to undergo his repulsive flirtations.

“Let’s make one thing clear, Don,” she said. “I am not now, have never been, nor will I ever be, interested in you, so bury those romantic notions or you’ll be very disappointed.”

“And already the lady starts to adopt the language of the bard,” he said, and faux-applauded. “Bravo, Odelia Poole. Bravo, indeed.”

“Oh, can it, buddy,” she said.

“Not very Shakespearian, but I get your point,” he said with a smirk. He glanced around. “What did you think of our great leader’s speech? Not giving in to murderous bastards and all that?”

“I think he’s right. We shouldn’t stop this production just because of one madman.”

“You do realize that there are ulterior motives at play here, right?”

Odelia studied her co-star.“What do you mean?”

“Wolf isn’t doing this for poor little Dany’s sake. He’s sunk every last dime he owns into his production company. If these shows get canceled he’ll be broke, and so will his producing partner.”

“But I thought they were the most successful producers on Broadway?”

“Bullshit,” spat Don. “Dear old Wolf has a serious gambling problem. When he’s not studying the works of the bard, he can usually be found in Las Vegas squandering other people’s money.”

This was food for thought.“You don’t think he had something to do with Dany’s death, do you?”

Don gave her another one of his trademark smirks.“Very perceptive of you, my dear. Your reputation as Hampton Cove’s premier sleuth precedes you. Yes, I do think he had something to do with Dany’s murder and that’s what I told that police detective of yours. Unfortunately he didn’t seem to like the aspersions I cast upon divine Wolf’scharacter.”

“But why would he jeopardize his own production? Dany’s death might have caused this whole thing to collapse, and then, as you said, he would have destroyed his own company.”

“Oh, Odelia, Odelia,” he said, shaking his head as if addressing a wayward child. “Don’t you see? Dear Dany was blackmailing Wolf. The two of them were engaged in a torrid affair, behind Wolf’s long-suffering wife’s back, of course. If Wolf ended the affair, Dany threatened to spill thegoods—talk to the enemy of every creative person in the world: the tabloids. And New York’s tabloids can be notoriously vicious when they smell blood in the water. Already they were circling, and Dany’s stories, whatever they were, could have seriously tarnished his reputation.”

And with these ominous words, he left her to wonder about that message.‘Hurry up, Wolfy. I’m naked and ready.’ It didn’t sound like the message from a girl threatening blackmail.

Chapter 17

Conway Kemp was refilling his glass at the drinks table. Judging from the misty look in his eyes, it wasn’t his first. Or his fifth. Odelia had seen him imbibe drink before, though, and therefore knew he could hold his liquor well.

“Hey, Con,” she said, remembering their first meeting with fondness. In spite of Wolf’s statement that he always hired the core crew himself, leaving only the bit players and the technical staff to Con’s eagle-eyed judgment, he’d actually been the one to tap her for this role. She’d never had acting ambitions before, being content to be a small-town reporter and occasional sleuthhound, so when Con walked up to her three weeks ago in the local deli and asked her if she had any acting experience, she’d been highly surprised to say the least. Her answer had been a big laugh, which told him everything he needed to know.

“I’ve read your articles,” he’d said, “and I’ve watched your YouTube channel. And I know this may come as a surprise to you, but have you ever considered acting?”

“Never,” had been her instant reply, followed by more laughter. Simply the idea of being an actress sounded ridiculous to her, and that’s what she’d told Con.

A classically handsome man in his early forties, Conway Kemp had clearly been around the block a few times. Later she’d discovered, over a cup of coffee at Cup o’ Mika, that he was an ex-marine, and that he’d only stumbled into the theater business by accident. His captain in the marines was Wolf Langdon’s father, and he’d asked Con to keep an eye on Wolf when he first decided to enter the theater business as a young man. Con had quickly become responsible for Wolf’s security, not a luxury as Wolf had initially made a name for himself setting up street theater productions in some of New York’s roughest neighborhoods. Con had been his security detail, creative sounding board and assistant all rolled into one. Once Wolf had accepted an offer to direct his first Broadway play, Con figured his role was finished. Broadway might be tough to launch a career, but it was hardly the kind of place where you could get a knife planted in your back if you upset the wrong people.

But Wolf had made Con an offer he couldn’t refuse: set up a production company together, financed by the woman Wolf would go on to marry, and after some hesitation Con had agreed. They’d quickly settled into their respective roles: Con took care of the business side, with Wolf handling the creative stuff. But part of Con’s duties was also scouting new young talent to put in minor roles. This entailed trolling YouTube for fresh faces. Like Odelia.

“Hey, Odelia,” he said now, slurring his words only a tiny bit.

“I can’t imagine how tough this must be on you,” she said. Con had been the one to recruit Dany, after all.

He nodded.“Yeah, it’s the first time since I entered civilian life that I’ve lost a member of my team. Like you said, it’s tough.” He shook his head. “She was so young and full of life. A rising star. I’d already offered her a part in Wolf’s next Broadway gig. She was going places, that kid.”

“Do you have any clue who might have done this to her?”

“Not a one. I’ve been wracking my brain. Why kill the loveliest, most innocent and sweetest soul on the planet? I mean, if you’re going to kill someone, why not kill that guy?”

Odelia followed his gesture, and saw he was directing a scathing look at Don Stryker. To be honest, she harbored some harsh thoughts about the man herself, but murder?

“I don’t think we should say such things,” she said therefore.

“No, of course,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that… Of all people—why Dany?”

The fervor with which he spoke these words suddenly made Odelia suspect there was more than professional interest at play here.“You liked her, didn’t you?” she said.

He nodded, staring down into his drink.“She was a lot of fun to be around.”

“There’s a rumor going around that… Wolf and Dany were an item.”

Con didn’t look up, nor did he respond.

“And that she was blackmailing him?” she prodded.

He looked up, and she was surprised at the anger that flashed in his eyes.“She was too good for a guy like Wolf. Too sweet and too innocent. If only I’d known…” He abruptly stopped himself when he realized who he was talking to, then plastered a tight smile on his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve had too much to drink, and I’m boring you with my sad sack stories.”

“No, that’s all right. Do you think Wolf could have something to do with Dany’s death?”

He stared at her for a moment, then abruptly turned away and left her standing there.

“Well, it’s as good an answer as any, I guess,” she muttered to herself. It told her that she should probably look deeper into this affair between Wolf and Dany. She suddenly caught sight of Wolf’s assistant Kerry, who stood cuddling Wolf’s beloved Chihuahua. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and a slow smile crept up her face.

Yes. This was exactly the kind of assignment Max and Dooley would love.

Chapter 18

A tense hush had descended upon the house. Dooley and I were keeping Brutus company, even though I really didn’t want to choose sides on this one. Still, I could hardly leave the poor guy alone in this, his darkest hour. What I really wanted to do was attend cat choir and maybe sniff around the crime scene a bit more. You never know who else might have caught a glimpse of the killer. I mean, potentially a murder taking place in a park is seen by dozens of witnesses: the birds sitting in the tree overlooking the spot where the killer has chosen to plunge a knife into his hapless victim’s chest, a dog sniffing that same tree and contemplating making a small deposit, even the earthworms popping up for a bit of fresh air, or the moles taking a break from digging their holes—though the latter have notoriously bad eyesight and might not be the most reliable witnesses imaginable.

And then there were the aforementioned ducks quietly quacking away in the pond. Brutus had persuaded one duck to come forward and volunteer a formal witness statement, but perhaps there were other ducks—the quiet ones who rarely quacked—who’d seen more and could provide the telling clue. The mole on the killer’s nose. The harelip he carefully tried to hide beneath a bushy mustache. Or even the cleft chin that made him oh, so attractive to the opposite sex—a fact which will always puzzleme. Why are cleft chins so attractive to the human female? It’s a chin. With a cleft. Nothing special.

So there really was a lot of work to be done, and all I could do was sit there and babysit Brutus and nurse his wounded soul. Such a shame.

“Did you see the look on her face?” he said. “It spoke volumes.”

It did speak volumes. Volumes of verbal abuse.“It’s all those soap operas,” I repeated my favorite theory as to Harriet’s terrible temper. “If only she would watch more of the always pleasant Hallmark Channel, she might not be this unreasonable all the time.”

Brutus snapped his head up.“Harriet is not unreasonable. She’s the most reasonable feline in existence. In fact she’s put up with my horrible habits all this time, not a whisper of annoyance crossing her lips.”

I’d heard plenty of whispers of annoyance pass Harriet’s lips—in fact they weren’t whispers but more fully formed sentences, very eloquently and colorfully expressed. I wasn’t going to play devil’s advocate right now, though, so I wisely shut up. If Brutus wanted to believe Harriet was an angel sent by the heavens to walk this sacred earth, so be it.

“She used to call me all these wonderful names. Tootsie roll. Snuggle bunny. Twinkle toes. Baby boo. And now all she can say is what a cad I’ve been—and she’s right!” he wailed.

He was sitting slumped on the couch, his paws sticking out, his otherwise shiny black fur unkempt and looking dull in spots. In fact he looked like the epitome of the jilted male. Which he was. Only he’d jilted her first, if we were going to split hairs.

“Did you know that the spiny dogfish shark’s pregnancy lasts two years?” asked Dooley, who was watching the Discovery Channel, which was playing quietly in the background.

“No, I didn’t know that,” I said.

Silence reigned for a moment.

“Did you know unborn sharks sometimes eat their siblings?”

I groaned softly.

“And that sharks can have up to 35,000 teeth in their lifetime? Imagine being a shark dentist! Ha ha.”

“Ha ha,” I said without enthusiasm.

Once again, silence hung heavy in Odelia’s small salon. Except for the shark show which apparently was on.

“Did you know—”

“Dooley! Enough with the sharks already!”

Silence returned, with Dooley looking offended.

“Max?” asked Brutus at length.

“Mh?”

“Could you give Harriet a message? I know she won’t listen to me, but maybe she’ll listen to you.”

I was about to graciously say no to this idea when I figured that the sooner Harriet and Brutus reconciled, the sooner the four of us could be out there hunting for clues again.

“Fine,” I said therefore. “What do you want me to tell her?”

“Tell her…” He frowned, then directed a curious glance at me. “What do you think I should tell her?”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I exclaimed. “How should I know? She’s your girlfriend!”

“Yes, but you’ve known her all her life. You know what might swing the deal.”

I rolled my eyes. I’m not your poetic type, so I had no idea what to tell a jilted woman who’s decided to jilt her boyfriend in return.

“Tell her you’re slowly pining away in remorseful sorrow,” suddenly Dooley said.

We both stared at him. It made for a nice change from the shark trivia.

“And tell her that soon there will be nothing left but a greasy spot on the couch.”

Brutus pursed his lips.“I’m not sure I like it, but it is very powerful. Especially that part about the greasy spot. Max,” he said, making a swift decision, “go for it, buddy.”

“Oh, all right,” I said, dragging myself up from my comfortable position on the couch.

I slouched to the kitchen door, shuffled through the pet flap, slumped through the backyard, wormed myself through the hole in the hedge, shambled through Marge and Tex’s backyard, shoved myself through the second cat flap and crawled into the house and into the family room. No sign of sharks there. Instead, a rerun ofScandal was on, and the president was getting a tongue-lashing from his chief of staff. Uh-oh. This didn’t bode well.

“Harriet,” I said, arriving at the foot of the couch that held Gran, Marge, Tex and Harriet, all lined up like so many statues, eagerly following the exploits ofScandal’s not-so-monogamous president.

“What do you want?” Harriet grunted.

“Message from Brutus,” I said, hoping this would attract her attention.

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested,” she said, making her meaning perfectly clear by flashing a shiny claw.

I gulped. I may have a layer of fat to protect me from claws like that, but I’m not immune to pain. In fact I hate it.

“Oh, just hear the cat out,” said Gran.

“What is he saying?” asked Tex.

“He says he has a message from Brutus,” said Marge.

“Let’s hear it,” said Gran. “And be quick about it. Something’s about to happen with Twisty Fitzy and I don’t want to miss it.”

“We saw this episode already, Mom,” said Marge.

“I know. But I’ve forgotten. And don’t you remind me!”

“Brutus says he’s in…” Dang. Now I couldn’t remember what it was Brutus wanted me to say. So I decided to do what all good actors do: wing it!

“Well?” said Harriet, impatiently tapping that nail on the edge of the couch.

“Brutus says you’re the love of his life and every second he can’t spend with you is a second lost forever. He’s in decline, losing weight so fast soon there’ll be nothing left but a smudge on the couch.” There. It wasn’t verbatim, but I figured I’d gotten the gist of the thing nicely across.

Harriet appeared unmoved, however.“Tell him I don’t care if he dies and rots in hell,” she growled.

“Harriet,” Marge said warningly. “Language.”

“Oh, all right. Tell him I’ll be happy to dance on his smudge.”

“Harriet!” said Marge. “Brutus is still a member of this family and you’ll treat him with respect.”

“He doesn’t respect me, so why should I respect him?” she challenged.

“Prima donna,” Gran muttered.

“I heard that,” Harriet snapped. “And I resent the slur.”

“What is she talking about?” asked Tex.

“Nothing worth listening to,” said Marge.

“Oh,” said Tex, disappointed.

“Lovers’ tiff,” Gran clarified.

“This is not a lovers’ tiff!” Harriet said. “He cheated on me and if I never set eyes on that black cat again, it’ll be too soon! And you tell him I said that,” she added for my sake.

So off I went again, this time in the opposite direction. Slouching, slumping, shuffling, worming and finally wending my way home. I arrived at the house, where I was met by two eager eyes boring into mine. Brutus was actually panting.“And? And? What did she say?”

I decided to keep this whole thing PC.“I think you’re going to have to try harder, Brutus,” I said. “She wasn’t receptive to the whole concept of the, um, smudge-on-the-couch thing.”

“What do you mean, she wasn’t receptive?” asked Dooley. “That was some of my best work. Though it’s a greasy spot, not a smudge.”

“Hold your horses, Shakespeare,” I said. “I think it’s going to take more than a few well-wrought sentences to convince Harriet to clasp Brutus to her bosom once again.”

“Oh, to be pressed to my love’s bosom,” said Brutus, suddenly becoming lyrical.

“You probably didn’t do my words justice,” said Dooley. “Next time I’ll come with you.” He shook his head. “If you want something done, you have to do it yourself.”

“Next time?” I said. “There’s not going to be a next time. You asked me to be your go-between and I was. Now I’m going to take a nap and try to forget this whole business.”

“Wait!” Brutus said. “Please, Max. You have to help me. You’re the only friend I’ve got.”

“And what am I? Chopped liver?” asked Dooley. “I’m your friend, too, Brutus.”

“Of course,” said Brutus. “And I can’t thank you enough. Now, please, tell Harriet… Oh, dammit! Why can’t I think of the right words to say?”

Dooley touched his paw to his chest.“Allowmoi, my friend. I’ll give you all the words.” He assumed the position of Rodin’s The Thinker for a moment, then said, “Harriet, love of my life. Treasure of my heart. Please accept my deepest, most heartfelt apologies. I’m a swine, a creep, a louse. I’m less than the dirt under your nails, worse than the most disgusting rat that slinks through the sewers of this town, filthier than the creepy crawlies that slither from underneath an overturned rock. I’m filth, I’m slime, I’m nothing, I’m—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Brutus grumbled. “I get the picture.”

Dooley pointed an imperious finger in my direction.“Messenger. Deliver my decree.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” I said. “You deliver your decree.”

“Better yet, we’ll deliver my decree together,” Dooley said. Then, addressing Brutus, added, “Don’t you worry about a thing. When in doubt, grovel, and I’m about to grovel on your behalf like no cat has ever groveled since that first cat crawled out of the woods and offered his servicesas a mouser to that first human in exchange for a roof over his head.”

And off we went, with Brutus’s halfhearted blessings, to heal this rift.

“Now what is it?” Harriet said, none too pleased with my swift return.

This time I was prepared to let Dooley do the talking. He didn’t disappoint.

He knelt in front of Harriet.“Oh, great and noble one. Oh, most beautiful cat in all of existence. Oh, most gorgeous creature ever to walk the face of this earth. Oh, sweet and—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said. “Get on with it.” She looked oddly pleased, though. Never underestimate the power of a compliment. Or a barrage of them.

“Brutus wants you to know he’s deeply, sincerely sorry. He also wants you to know that he knows that you know that he’s less than the dirt under your claws, less than the rats that infest the nooks and crannies of this town. Less than the muck that oozes out of the pipes when you unscrew thatbulbous thingy underneath the sink to unclog the drain.”

“Yuck,” Gran muttered.

“I know all that,” said Harriet. “Now tell me something I don’t know.”

“What are they talking about?” asked Tex.

“Oh, more stuff,” said Marge vaguely. “Harriet, don’t you think it’s time you forgave that poor cat?”

“No, I don’t,” she said. “He cheated on me with Darlene and I’ll never forget and I’ll definitely never forgive.”

“He says he never sniffed Darlene’s butt,” I said, feeling it was time to set the record straight.

“Oh, please. Tell him he’s a liar. I saw him sniff her butt.”

“He was trying to tell her he wasn’t interested. That he only loves you.”

“He had his nose up her butt!”

“That was just a matter of perceptive,” said Dooley.

“Perspective,” I corrected.

“What?!” cried Harriet.

“Perspective. Like when you think an object is far away while in fact it’s right in front of you. Darlene’s butt was here, while Brutus’s nose was there, and never the twain met.”

“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes, not impressed.

“Oh, give the cat a break,” Marge said. “He almost drowned today.”

“And was almost run over,” Tex added, happy that for once he could follow.

“Yeah, he almost died twice today,” Marge said.

Judging from Harriet’s expression, almost wasn’t good enough. She’d only be happy if Brutus was run over not once but three times in a row by a succession of vehicles, until he actually was a smudge on the asphalt, and preferably she’d see Darlene suffer the same fate.

“Let’s go, Dooley,” I said finally. “This is no good. We’re wasting our time here.”

“But he loves you, Harriet,” said Dooley. “Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Harriet hesitated, but then her expression hardened.“No, it doesn’t. He hurt me, Dooley, and I’ll never be able to forgive him for that.”

And Dooley and I were both making our way back to the other house when he said,“I didn’t know love was so complicated, Max.”

“Oh, it is, buddy.”

“Good thing we never got involved in something like that.”

“Yeah, good thing,” I agreed.

“I just hope Odelia and Chase never get into that kind of trouble. If we can’t even reconcile two cats, how are we ever going to reconcile two humans?”

“Odelia and Chase are never going to get into that kind of trouble,” I said. “And you know why? Because Chase is smart. And so is Odelia. They’re both smart. And in love.”

We entered the house and I was surprised to find Odelia seated on the couch, absentmindedly stroking Brutus’s fur. She looked distraught.

“Oh, no!” I cried. “You broke up with Chase!”

Chapter 19

Odelia stared at Max.“Why would I break up with Chase?”

“Um, no reason,” he said, looking sheepish after his outburst.

“And where is Harriet?”

“Next door. She won’t talk to me,” said Brutus sadly. He then looked up at Max and Dooley, who both shook their heads.

Odelia decided to ignore her cats’ odd behavior. “You guys. I need to ask you a huge favor.”

“Anything,” said Max instantly.

“As long as it doesn’t involve groveling to Harriet,” said Dooley. “Because that doesn’t work. And believe me, we tried. Oh, boy, did we try.”

“Right,” said Odelia after a moment’s hesitation. “The thing is, I think Dany and Wolf Langdon were having an affair.” In a few words, she briefed her cat menagerie about the events that had transpired at the meeting.

“So you want us to break into the manor and take a peek at Wolf’s phone?” asked Max.

“No, I’ll take care of that part myself. What I want you to do is talk to Wolf’s pet. If Wolf and Dany were having an affair that ended badly, he’ll know about it.”

“Oh, Wolf has a pet. How nice. What kind of cat is it?” asked Max.

“It’s not a cat. It’s a Chihuahua.”

Her three cats were silent for a beat, then Max cried,“A dog?! You want us to talk to a dog?”

“Not just any dog. A Chihuahua. I’ve seen him. He’s a very sweet and cute little fella. I’m sure you’ll get along great.”

“Chihuahuas are dogs, Odelia,” Dooley pointed out. “And as a rule we’re not all that fond of dogs.”

“We got along fine with the French bulldog that belonged to the Kenspeckles, remember?” said Max.

“That was an exception to the rule,” said Brutus. “Most dogs are terrible creatures.”

“Not this sweet, precious Chihuahua,” Odelia insisted. “He’s just so cute and cuddly and he has the sweetest, kindest disposition. You’ll see. You’ll just love, love, love him.”

All three cats stared at her. Then Max took a deep breath and asked,“You’re not thinking about adopting a dog, are you, Odelia?”

“N-no,” she said, but her hesitation gave her away. They all started howling again, so she held up her hands. “I have no concrete plans in that direction. Honest! But Chase likes dogs, and since he lives here now, it’s only fair to assume that at some point he’ll want to get a dog again. As long as he hadn’t settled down, that was out of the question, but now…”

“Oh, God,” said Max, breathing heavy. “Oh, my God.”

“This is the end,” said Dooley. “Finished. Kaput.”

“I hate my life,” said Brutus. “I just hate it.”

“You guys. I’m not saying we’re going to get a dog right now. At some point in the future, though, we might. Just might. Teensy, tiny chance.” She didn’t want to lie to them, even if they didn’t like it. Chase loved dogs, though, and she did, too. Most people fell into one of two categories: they were either a cat person or a dog person. Odelia, in spite of the fact that she could communicate with cats, loved both. And she was fairly sure that her cats would love whatever dog would grace their home with his or her presence in the future, too.

“Dogs eat babies, you know,” said Dooley. “They do. I saw it on the Discovery channel.”

“You did not,” said Max, then realized what Dooley was trying to accomplish, and quickly changed his tune. “It’s true. Dooley is right. I saw it myself. Dogs are notorious baby eaters. Snack on babies all the time. They like babies even more than bones. Truth.”

“Not funny, Dooley,” said Odelia. “Now are you guys ready? Because as soon as that house is quiet I want to be ready to move. And in order to know when the coast is clear, we’re going to have to go on a stakeout.”

“Stakeout!” Max cried. “Yay!”

“What is a stakeout?” asked Dooley. “Does it involve steak?”

“No, it does not involve steak,” said Odelia. “It involves us sitting and watching in a car and looking at Whitmore Manor until all the lights are out and it’s time to make a move.”

“Is Harriet coming, too?” asked Brutus.

“Of course!” said Odelia. “It wouldn’t be a stakeout if the gang wasn’t all there, right?”

Brutus nodded morosely. The prospect of Harriet joining them didn’t seem to fill him with joy, as she’d expected it would. Then again, her cats were acting weird tonight.

“Max, you better go and fetch Harriet. Tell her to get ready,” she said, then went up the stairs to change into something stakeouty.

Five minutes later, she was dressed in black from head to toe: black leggings, black sneakers, black sweater. And she was toying with a black balaclava she’d once picked up at a second-hand store when suddenly she sensed she was no longer alone. She turned. Chase was studying her from the doorway.

“Going on a stakeout?” he asked, an expression of amusement on his face.

“Um, no, of course not. I’m… taking the cats for a walk.”

“Babe, I may not know a lot about cats but one thing I do know is that you don’t take a cat for a walk.”

“Most cats, no. But my cats are special.”

“That, they are.” He walked up to her and pinned her arms to her side until he’d grasped the balaclava she’d been holding behind her back. He held it up. “Most dog walkers or, if such a thing exists, cat walkers, don’t wear a mask. You’re going to break into Whitmore Manor, aren’t you?”

She laughed what she hoped was a careless laugh.“Of course not! Are you crazy? Why would I go and do a silly thing like that?”

“Because you discovered that Wolf Langdon and Dany Cooper were having an affair and you’re hoping to find out more by breaking into Langdon’s room and digging through his phone.”

She laughed again, with less conviction.“How—how did you know? About the affair, I mean?”

“I’m a detective, Odelia. It’s my job to know stuff like that. And I had a long talk with Langdon’s wife this afternoon, who told me all about the affair. She also mentioned she assumes Langdon and Dany had been sexting a lot, but every time she tried to get her hands on her husband’s phone he made sure he had it on him. He even sleeps with that phone, keeping it tucked away underneath his pillow, his hand on top of it, just in case.”

“That’s very unhealthy. All that radiation.”

“That’s more urban legend than scientific fact, though, isn’t it?”

“Still,” she said, and swallowed. Gazing into Chase’s eyes it wasn’t hard to see why criminals would succumb under the pressure of his quiet determination and confess all.

“All right!” she finally cried, throwing up her hands. “I’m going to stake out Whitmore Manor and break in under the cover of darkness to check out the guy’s phone. So are you going to tell me I can’t go?”

“Of course not. I’m going to tell you I’m coming with you. And I hope you won’t tell your uncle, because this operation will be one hundred percent unsanctioned and if we get caught you’ll have a great front-page story but I’ll probably get fired.”

“I won’t tell my uncle if you won’t,” she said with a low voice and a smile on her face.

He tilted up her chin, then pressed a warm kiss to her lips.“Hey, there, partner in crime,” he murmured. “I missed you tonight.”

“You did? It wasn’t clear from the way you were chatting up that blonde.”

“I wasn’t chatting up that blonde. I was trying to extract information from her.”

“Hard to know the difference.”

“That’s what makes police work so fascinating: nothing is what it seems.”

She smiled.“Do you still prefer brunettes over blondes?”

“I prefer this brunette,” he said, then deepened the kiss.

A soft cough sounded behind them. When they turned, she saw it was Max. He was staring at them with a horrified expression on his furry face.“We’re ready when you are.”

Chapter 20

“I’m only doing this for Odelia,” Harriet said for the tenth time since we’d gotten into Chase’s truck.

The four of us were in the backseat, with Chase at the wheel and Odelia riding shotgun.

“We know you’re only doing this for Odelia,” I said. “And I, for one, think it’s very noble of you to put aside your differences and join us.”

“I haven’t put aside any differences,” said Harriet through gritted teeth. The words came out in a low growl and Chase frowned and checked his rearview mirror.

“One of your cats doesn’t sound happy, babe,” he said.

“Oh, she’s probably nervous, that’s all,” said Odelia.

“Nervous? How can she be nervous? She doesn’t have a clue where we’re going.”

“Cats have an instinct for these things,” she explained.

“Um, I guess,” he said doubtfully. Chase was not a big believer in the abilities of cats to solve murders. Then again, he also had no idea Odelia could understand every word we said and vice versa. Probably best to keep it that way, too, or else he might start interfering in this holy alliance between man and beast, as Tex had once called it.

“The only reason I’m going along on this trip is because Odelia asked me to,” Harriet repeated, in case we hadn’t heard her the first dozen times. “You’re not off the hook, Brutus.”

“I understand that and I regret it deeply,” said Brutus. “What more can I do than to apologize once again for any misunderstanding my behavior may have caused and to—”

“Misunderstanding? That was no misunderstanding. Your nose was practically glued to Darlene’s butt.”

“It was a case of wrong perspective!” he cried.

“Yeah, just keep telling yourself that,” she said, and looked out the window, determined not to give Brutus another glance.

“So what is our mission, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Mission. Nice,” said Brutus with a chuckle. When Harriet shot him a frosty glance, breaking her own rule not to look at him, the chuckle turned into a choked chortle, then quickly died away.

“Our mission—should we choose to accept it—is to talk to that Chihuahua and extract information from the mutt with any means at our disposal.”

“Chihuahua?” said Harriet, looking up in surprise. “Nobody said anything about a dog.”

“A Chihuahua, as Odelia has gone to great pains to explain, is not just any dog. A Chihuahua is a noble breed and amongst the sweetest and most innocuous of its kind. I’m sure we’ll get along great with the little mutt.”

“I’m not going near that dog. No way. Dogs stink.”

In the front seat, Odelia suppressed a snicker, causing Chase to give her a look of concern.

“Dogs don’t stink,” I said, with a glance at the back of Odelia’s head. I was nothing if not a loyal soldier to my general. So I dutifully conveyed her words to the rest of her troops. “A dog may have a very particular odor, but to characterize that odor as foul is in the eye of the beholder.”

“The nose of the beholder, you mean,” said Harriet.

“Right.”

“Dogs stink and I’m not coming near that mutt,” she insisted. “And that’s my final word. If you want to talk to the filthy creature, that’s up to you. But I’m going to look for a more palatable and civilized creature to talk to. Every mansion worth its salt must have a cat roaming around someplace, and I’m going to find it.”

“You just don’t want to be near me. Admit it,” said Brutus with a pained expression.

“I’m not admitting a thing until you admit your nose was so far up Darlene’s butt you could fondle her tonsils.”

“I’m not admitting something that didn’t happen,” said Brutus.

“Oh, you are going to confess, buster.”

“This isn’t a Syrian torture chamber and you can’t make me confess a thing.”

“Confess!” she screamed and flew across Dooley and my laps to tear into Brutus.

It took Odelia a little time to part both cats, and when finally she managed, Brutus had a bloody scratch across his nose and there was a drop of blood on Harriet’s otherwise pristine white fur that hadn’t been there before.

“And now behave, the both of you,” said Odelia in a voice I hadn’t heard her use before. She would have made a great taskmaster, I thought. Or owner of a kennel.

“You scratched me!” Brutus cried, aghast. “You actually drew blood!”

“Serves you right,” said Harriet from her corner.

“My nose! It will never look the same again!”

“Show it to Darlene. Maybe she’ll lick it for you.”

“I’ll have a scar!”

“I’m sure Darlene loves her men scarred.”

“I don’t care about Darlene!”

Dooley and I shared a look of concern. This cold war had just escalated into a full-blown hot war, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. Once the gloves came off, there was no telling whose face Harriet would dig her claws into next. Already she’d determined Dooley and I were collaborating with the enemy, so all bets were off. From now on, no one was safe.

“So how are we going to sneak into the manor?” asked Chase.

“I thought you might have a plan. You’re a cop, after all. Don’t you cops get trained to pick locks and stuff?”

“We do, but since this was your idea I figured you had a plan all cooked up and ready to execute.”

Brutus winced at the mention of the word execute. He darted a quick glance at Harriet, then continued licking his injured nose. For what it was worth, I figured it was only a small price to pay for his stupidity. Everyone in cat choir knew Darlene was a tease and a loose cat and everyone steered clear of her because of that fact. Now Brutus knew, too.

“I figured I’d just… wing it, you know,” said Odelia.

Chase laughed.“Wing it. I like that. Why don’t we simply go in through the basement? When I was checking out the manor this afternoon I noticed the lock is broken on the second basement window from the right. A good shove and we’re in.”

Odelia turned to Chase, a look of surprise on her face.“You were planning this before I even got the idea!”

“I wasn’t planning anything. Just happened to check the perimeter for possible weaknesses and just happened to notice the window.” His grin vanished. “Truth be told, Wolf asked us to give his security team a thorough screening. Dany being killed in broad daylight like that? There is obviously something wrong with the way security is organized.”

“I don’t think Wolf has any security to speak of. At least not that I ever noticed.”

“He has a few people on his payroll, but they’re not highly skilled or organized. I told him to hire a professional crew and that’s what he promised me he’d do.”

“You also told him about the wonky window?”

The grin returned.“I decided to wait until after the new team arrived.” He shrugged. “What? I know how your mind works, babe. You just love this breaking and entering stuff.”

“I do love this breaking and entering stuff,” she admitted. “And you know what else I love right now?”

“I have no idea,” he said, his grin widening.

“You, you big doofus. C’mere.”

“Not while I’m driving, babe.”

“C’mere!”

There ensued yet another one of those scenes that are incredibly awkward for cats to watch.

Humans kissing.

Yuck.

Chapter 21

It was well past midnight now, but the light in some of the windows of Whitmore Manor was still shining as bright as day. Then again, these were creative people. Actors. And clearly actors, like vampires, preferred to live at night and eschew daylight.

“Looks like they’re not asleep yet,” said Chase, glancing up at the three or four lit up windows. He settled back in his car seat, which he’d cranked back. “We’re in for a long wait, babe.”

“I’m going to let the cats out,” she said. “They’re not going to be comfortable cooped up inside the car. And she opened the door to let us out. We jumped at the chance. Well, all of us except Harriet, who still didn’t seem keen to join in the nocturnal adventure.

I gave Odelia a wave of the tail goodbye and she closed the door again. I just knew there would be plenty more nookie and I was glad she’d spared us having to witness it.

“So how are we going to get in?” asked Brutus.

“You heard Chase. There’s a wonky window near the back,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll be able to sneak in that way.”

Chase had parked his car inside the Whitmore Manor domain. Clearly security left something to be desired, judging from the front gate which had been left wide open, and not a single guard placed at the entrance to halt our access to the manor. He’d parked under a big oak tree, to provide himself some measure of cover, and for them the long wait began. For us, the long trek through the manor began, in search of this illustrious Chihuahua.

Dooley and I quickly moved ahead, Harriet and Brutus trailing behind. At a certain point I heard Brutus exclaim,“It was a matter of perspective!” and I shook my head.

“Brutus really is in the doghouse, isn’t he?” Dooley said.

“Or the cathouse, depending on your perspective,” I said, and we both giggled like two silly kittens. Even though Brutus and Harriet might take this thing bloody seriously—literally—that didn’t mean Dooley and I couldn’t extract some merriment from the episode.

We found the window just where Chase had said it was, and snuck into the manor through the crack—dropping gracefully to the cement floor below. It was pretty dusty and dank-smelling in the basement, but then basements usually are.

Odelia had told me Langdon’s bedroom was on the third floor, the last room on the left, so that was our destination. We snuck through the basement, which was just a collection of old furniture covered in white sheets gathering dust, snuck up the stairs, through a long corridor, and up more stairs, these ones marble instead of rickety wood.

Upstairs, we heard laughter and singing coming from one of the rooms, and I quickly snuck a peek. Four or five people were smoking something that had an acrid tinge to it that wasn’t tobacco, and drinking a substance that wasn’t lemonade. They looked as if they were having a whale of a time. They were also partly naked, so I quickly retreated. I’d been forced to witness enough human nookie for one day thank you very much.

The third floor proved more quiet and peaceful than the second, which was a good sign.

“I’m not sure about this, Max,” Dooley said as we tiptoed underneath the portrait of a dour-looking man dressed in a hunter’s outfit. Dogs were converging on a deer, and I felt for the poor deer.

“I’m not too sure about this either,” I admitted. It was all well and good to describe this Chihuahua as a sweetheart and a cutie pie, but dogs are a treacherous breed. They can be sweet and cute one minute, then viciously turn on you the next. I was going to keep my options open and make sure I had my route of escape mapped out just in case.

“Do you think Brutus and Harriet got lost?” he asked as we paused to listen for sounds of human activity.

I glanced back to the stairs. There was no sign of either one of our two friends.

“I just hope they haven’t killed each other,” I said with a twinge of concern. That slash across the nose was still fresh in my mind, and the thought rankled.

“Maybe we should turn back,” said Dooley, glancing up at yet another hunting print, this one depicting a brace of dogs tearing into a poor rabbit. It was definitely a bad omen.

“We need to press on,” I told Dooley. “Odelia expects us to talk to this dog, so we need to talk to this dog.”

We moved along the corridor, which was all dark paneled walls and oak parquet covered with a long and high-pile runner our paws sank into. The smell was musty, either from the smokers on the second floor, or the natural smell of an old manor.

We finally arrived at the last door on the left, and to my relief it was ajar. Cats, as you may or may not know, have a hard time opening doors. At least when they operate on a knob principle. Tough to turn a knob when all you have are soft pink pads, fur and claws.

We snuck into the room, careful not to make a sound. From inside, snoring drifted our way. And as we moved deeper into the room, a peaceful scene greeted us: there, in the middle of the room, a man was sleeping in a big four-poster bed, a dog draped across his feet. A night light had been left on, bathing the Hallmark-type scene in a soft golden hue.

“Aww,” I said.

“How sweet,” Dooley echoed.

At this, the doggie pricked up its ears, then sniffed the air, and finally spotted us.

He made a soft gulping sound, then abruptly jumped down from the bed and scooted behind the nightstand.

So much for the rabid, cat-devouring monster we’d been dreading to encounter.

Chapter 22

Odelia was getting tired of sitting in a car waiting for a bunch of party people to finally go to bed. Not that she minded being cooped up in a small space with Chase—far from it—but she had another big day tomorrow, and she was one of those people who, when they didn’t get enough sleep, were complete and utter wrecks the next day.

“When are they finally going to bed?” she grumbled, when she saw that in one room the lights were still on. “Don’t they need to sleep?”

“They’re young. They’re free. And they probably want to get through the bag of weed Wolf provided—or maybe it was Conway Kemp. The stories tend to differ depending on the source.”

“Weed? And you approve of this?

“Hey, as long as the politicians don’t make up their minds, I’m not touching that.”

“Is that what you and Miss Blonde talked about?”

“She did ask about the laws in the state of New York regarding the recreational use of marihuana,” he said with a grin.

“And what did you tell her?”

“That marijuana is still illegal except for medical use on a strictly regulated basis. But that you won’t get arrested for smoking in public unless you’re driving a car or have a criminal record—at most you can expect a fine these days.”

“Which you’re not going to give them.”

He shrugged.“I’ve got my orders, babe. Stuff is above my pay grade.”

“Sounds like a pretty lame excuse to me.”

He laughed.“I take it you’re not a big fan of weed.”

No, she wasn’t, but that was not an argument she was prepared to get into right now. “What else did you talk about?”

“Well, about the affair Wolf and Dany were reportedly having.”

“Nothing reportedly about it. Looks like everyone knew about it, except me.”

“And Wolf’s wife. Until not so long ago she was in the dark, too.”

“So where is Mrs. Langdon?”

“Staying in town at the Star.”

The Hampton Cove Star was a boutique hotel located right on Main Street.“The Star? Why not at the manor?”

“She was at the manor at first, but my guess is that she got tired of having to watch her husband getting frisky with Dany so she relocated to the Star.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I have.”

“Oh, someone’s been a busy boy.”

“Your uncle did urge us to handle this murder business quickly and with the utmost expedience so that’s what I’m doing.”

“And? What did Mrs. Langdon have to say?”

“She didn’t exactly burst into tears when I told her about what happened to Dany.”

“Which is understandable.”

“Exactly. She admitted she’d heard the rumors, too, and that’s why she moved to the Star. She also said she was considering divorcing Wolf, and she happened to mention that Wolf was not in a situation where he could afford a divorce. It’s my understanding Mrs. Langdon is the source of much of Wolf’s wealth. Her family is extremely well-off. He isn’t.”

“Do you think she might be responsible for Dany’s death?”

“Nuh-uh. She was having lunch with a friend when Dany was killed. About a dozen guests and waitstaff can attest to that.”

“Too bad. She would have been the perfect killer.”

“Looks like we’re up,” said Chase, gesturing to the window where now the light had finally been extinguished.

“Finally. I thought they’d never go to bed.”

They got out of the car and moved stealthily towards the manor, hunched over and staying in the shadows. There was a full moon out, so they’d have to be careful not to be seen.

They arrived at the back of the house and quickly snuck inside. Odelia hoped her cats had already had a chance to talk to Wolf’s Chihuahua. If not, no harm done. They would get the necessary information some other way.

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” she whispered as they snuck up a rickety staircase, and she flicked at what she hoped was a cobweb and not a hairy rat or other animal.

“What’s that?” Chase whispered back.

“Can’t you cops access phone records and stuff like that?”

“We can, but it takes time. And besides, it’s a lot more fun sneaking around with you!”

She grinned.“You know what? This is actually the first time you’ve joined me in this part of an investigation.”

“True,” he said. “And look how much fun we’re having!”

Until then, Odelia had joined Chase for his police interviews from time to time, but he’d never joined her on her more improvised investigative outings. One technique she hadn’t introduced him to was the part played by her cats. Maybe she’d never tell him about that. He might not take it well.

They’d arrived on the second landing and were now sneaking towards Wolf’s room. She just hoped no one got it into their mind to open a door and bump into them. And just as she was thinking it, a door to their right opened and Don Stryker walked out and bumped straight into them!

He stared at her, his hair mussed up and sleep wrinkles all over his face.

Both Odelia and Chase stood frozen at the spot. Now they were in a real jam!

“Mom?” Don finally muttered. “Is that you?”

And then Odelia smelled it: the guy was totally baked!

“Yes, it’s me,” she said. “Now go back to sleep… Donny.”

“Okay, Mom.” He touched a finger to her cheek. “You look so young.” He smiled a weak smile, blinked slowly, then staggered back into his room, closing the door behind him.

“See?” said Chase. “Weed is good!”

“Yeah, right,” she said, and then they were hurrying towards the last door on the left. To her elation, it was ajar. And just as they entered, two cats came trotting out. Max and Dooley.

Max said,“The phone is on the nightstand,” and she gave him a wink before he and Dooley disappeared down the hallway.

She briefly wondered what had happened to Harriet and Brutus, then shrugged off the thought and followed Chase into Wolf’s bedroom.

Chapter 23

“I told you I’m not talking to that dog and I’m not talking to that dog!” Harriet was saying. In fact she’d rather be anywhere but there, but duty had called and Harriet wasn’t one to shirk her duties. Once on the scene, though, she’d had one of her typical change of hearts. The prospect of sitting in a crowded room and chatting with some obnoxious odoriferous canine was too much for her, and she decided to turn back and go and sit in the car. Odelia would understand, she knew. She would give her a cuddle and that would be it.

Today had already been a day of high emotion and the dog thing simply was too much! No dogs! Not on top of everything else that had happened!

Brutus, of course, didn’t understand. That was a dude for you.

“But we have to talk to the dog!” he said. “We promised!”

“No, Brutus. I’m not doing it. If you want to talk to the dog, go right ahead and do it. But I’m not going anywhere near that smelly mutt.”

“Oh, you don’t know if he’s smelly. Maybe he smells like a rose. I’ve met dogs that smelled to lavender, expensive French perfume, even licorice! Humans are crazy that way.”

She knew humans were crazy. She’d lived with them long enough. But not as crazy as Brutus, for throwing away the love they shared for a chance to sniff some skank’s butt.

“I want to be alone now, Brutus,” she said as dignified as she could.

But of course he wouldn’t listen. “I’m telling you, it’s a matter of perspective. My nose was nowhere near Darlene’s butt. It only looked that way from where you were standing.”

“You were there. Darlene was there. Enough said. Now please leave me alone.”

“I know it was a mistake for me to follow her there. I admit that,” he said, tapping his chest. “But the moment I realized my mistake, I told her! Or at least I was going to tell her.”

“You were going to tell her with your nose buried up her butt? Nice try, Brutus. I’m not buying it. Now go away.”

“It’s a matter of perspective!”

“Oh, buzz off, buster,” she said, and stalked off. This time, at least he had the decency not to follow her.

She hadn’t lied. She did want to be alone. She’d been with Brutus for so long now it was hard to imagine her life without him. She truly loved the butch cat, from the moment he’d come into her life, all bluster and big talk. She’d seen right through that, of course. She’d known instinctively thatunderneath all that bluster lurked a tender soul and a good heart.

She also knew that he probably realized he’d made a mistake by following Darlene into that clearing—or had she followed him? It was hard to say, and she wasn’t going to take either Darlene or Brutus’s word for it. They were both lying through their teeth, both for different reasons. But she found it hard to forgive him. If a tomcatstrays once, he’ll stray again. It’s just the way they’re built. Max, she knew, would never stray once he gave his heart to a cat. And nor would Dooley. Until now she’d believed Brutus wouldn’t either.

That’s why the whole thing with Darlene had shocked her to the core. And now she didn’t know what to believe. All she knew was that she didn’t want to see Brutus. At least not for a while. Until she decided how to proceed.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Brutus walked off, and kicked a rock as he did. This was probably the worst day of his life. Or at least up there among them. It reminded him of the day Chase’s mother had decided to hand him off to her son. Chase’s mom hadn’t been well, and decided she couldn’t be trusted to take care of her cat. Besides, she was moving in with her sister, who wasn’t allowed to keep pets in her rent-controlled Bronx apartment. So on to Chase he went, and thenlady luck had come through for him and he’d found a new home. Even better than before: a home with great humans, and three great cats who he now considered family.

It had been tough in the beginning, though. He and Max had clashed frequently. He’d had the mistaken belief at the time that only one cat could rule the home and he’d decided that he was that cat. Now he realized there didn’t have to be one cat in charge. They were all in charge. Max had opened his eyes to that, as had Dooley. And Harriet, of course.

Brutus had never known love before. Now he did. And then he’d gone and lost it.

He was such a moron, wasn’t he? And he was just kicking another rock when suddenly the ground opened up underneath him and he was falling. Fully expecting to fall into some abyss or ravine, he let out a squeal. Suddenly his fall was broken by a soft object.

“Hey, little buddy,” the soft object spoke, and looking up Brutus realized he’d been caught by a friendly giant.

Looking up even further, he saw he’d dropped off a cliff. A sort of man-made promontory that overlooked another duck pond. And by the side of that pond, a man had been sleeping off his hangover—at least judging from the powerful smell of booze on him.

Dang it! This was the third time he’d almost died today!

Chapter 24

Dooley and I snuck further into the room, adamant to talk to that dog, whether he liked it or not. And obviously he didn’t like it one bit.

“Hey, dog,” I said, in a bid to get him to come from behind the nightstand. “Nice doggie, doggie.”

“We just want to talk to you,” said Dooley.

In the bed just by our side, Wolf Langdon stirred. No matter how softly we talked, our meowing probably disturbed his slumber. We needed to do this fast, before he woke up and kicked us out of his room!

“Doggie!” I loud-whispered. “We need to ask you a few questions.”

“Yeah, it’s not as if we’re going to bite you or something,” Dooley chimed in.

We both laughed at that. Just the idea. Cats biting a dog! Ha ha.

But the Chihuahua didn’t laugh along. He probably wasn’t in on the joke.

“Look, we’re cat detectives,” I said, “And we’re trying to figure out who killed Dany Cooper.”

“Do you know who Dany Cooper was?” asked Dooley.

“I know who Dany was,” the dog said, in a scared little voice. He didn’t sound or behave like any dog I’d ever met.

“Well, she was murdered this afternoon,” I said, “so we’re trying to figure out who did it.”

“You’re not going to hurt me?” asked the doggie.

“Of course not. Why would we want to hurt you?” I said, more abruptly than I intended.

“Oh, please don’t scratch me,” said the doggie. “A cat once scratched me and I didn’t like it.”

“We’re not the scratching kind,” I assured him.

“I’m sure glad Harriet didn’t come along,” Dooley whispered. “She would have scratched him for sure.”

“Dooley, shush,” I said. Addressing the Chihuahua, I repeated, “We don’t scratch dogs, dog. Usually it’s the other way around.”

“Yeah, dogs like to bite us, for some reason,” Dooley added. “No idea why. We’re not that tasty, as far as I know.”

“I’m not going to bite you,” said the doggie. “I never bite anyone—except my bone, of course. I like to chew my bone.”

“Well, that’s all right,” I said. “You won’t bite us and we won’t scratch you. Deal?”

“Um, okay,” he said, then reluctantly came crawling out from behind the nightstand.

He looked funny, with his big ears and his short body. His tail was down and he still looked pretty scared.

It was a novel experience. No dog had ever been afraid of me before.

“So what do you know about Dany Cooper?” I asked.

“She was nice. And my master liked her a lot. And I do mean a lot.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, they were putting their lips together a lot, and they spent an awful lot of time naked in bed together.”

Dooley and I were silent for a beat, then Dooley said,“Yeah, I guess they did like each other a lot.”

“Do you think your master could have something to do with Dany’s death?”

“Like what?”

“Like maybe he killed her?”

The dog cocked his head and stared at me.“I don’t get it.”

He didn’t strike me as the sharpest dog in the shed, so I repeated the question. “Did Wolf kill Dany?”

“But why would he kill her? He kept telling her he loved her. He’d also bought her a big ring and he said he was going to marry her as soon as his wife signed off on the divorce.”

“Divorce? Wolf was getting a divorce?”

“Sure. At least that’s what he told Dany. I don’t think he told Emily, though.”

“Emily?”

“Wolf’s wife. She’s very sweet. She was here, and then she wasn’t. I don’t think she liked it that Wolf spent so much time with Dany, even though he said he didn’t.” He shook his little head. “Humans are weird.”

“Tell me about it,” I said with a sigh.

“Anyway, Wolf loved Dany, so he would never hurt her. Besides, I was sitting next to him the whole time, so if he had killed her, don’t you think I would have noticed?”

So there went that particular theory.“I guess so.”

“This is just so sad. Dany always gave me lots of cuddles and kisses. I liked her.”

I suppressed a shiver. Who would want to kiss and cuddle a dog? Now that I was this close to him, I discovered Harriet was right. Dogs did smell. Some type of musky odor. Yuck.

“So exactly where were you when Dany was killed?” I heard Dooley ask. I was already moving back to the door, writing the interview off as a huge waste of time.

“I was right there. I actually saw her getting killed.”

“Wait, what?” I said, turning back.

“Yeah, it wasn’t pleasant,” said the dog. “This human stood chatting with her, then suddenly they made a move and her face went all weird, and then she dropped down.”

“Doggie,” I said intently.

“You don’t have to keep calling me doggie,” said the doggie. “I have a name, you know, and it’s Ringo.”

“Ringo. Listen to me. This is very important. Who was that person?”

“I don’t know. I think it was a man, judging from his posture, though I can’t be sure. He had his back turned to me so I couldn’t see his face. All I know is that he was wearing—”

“A yellow parka. Yeah, we know.”

“If you knew already, why do you ask?” he said indignantly.

So maybe dogs are not so dumb after all.

“You never saw his face?” I asked, just to make sure.

“No, I didn’t. But I can tell you who did. Mr. Owl.”

“Mr. Owl,” I said dubiously.

“Yeah. He always sits in that tree. I’ve seen him every time. He’s very friendly, too. Always greets me with a nod and a kind word. He was in that tree today, so he must have seen the whole thing. You talk to Mr. Owl and he’ll tell you who killed Dany.”

I held out my paw and Ringo winced, probably expecting me to scratch him. Instead, I patted him on the shoulder.“Ringo. You have given us a vital clue.”

“I have?” he said.

“You sure have. You may even have solved Dany’s murder.”

A smile slowly crept up Ringo’s narrow face, and his big ears distended even wider, giving him an owlish look. “I like that,” he said. “It’s not nice when people kill other people, especially when they’re sweet and kind, like Dany Cooper.”

“You’re absolutely right. And we’re going to make sure the killer won’t get away with it.”

“Our human’s boyfriend is a cop,” Dooley explained. “So we tell our human who the killer is, and Chase makes sure he goes to prison.”

“Wait, you can talk to your human? And they understand what you’re saying?”

“She does. She’s one of those rare humans who understand cat language.”

Ringo cast a hopeful look at his inert human.“Boy, oh, boy. How I wish Wolf could understand me. The stories I would tell him!”

We said our goodbyes, and just as we left the room, Odelia and Chase entered. From behind us, Ringo asked,“And who are these people? Should I bark? Alert my master?”

“No, Ringo,” I said. “These are the humans I was talking about. They’re looking for your master’s phone.”

“On the nightstand. See ya, guys.”

“See ya, buddy.” To Odelia, as she entered, I said, “the phone is on the nightstand.” She gave me a wink in return.

“I have to say, Max,” said Dooley as we descended the stairs. “I may just have had a change of heart about dogs. They may not be as horrible and nasty as I always thought.”

“We met nice dogs before, remember?”

“Yeah, but I always figured they were the exception that proved the rule. Now I’m not so sure.”

“I’m not so sure either.”

“When Odelia gets a dog, I sure hope it’s a nice one like Ringo.”

And I sure hoped she wouldn’t get a dog. Nice or not, frankly speaking I was having enough trouble navigating the complicated relationships in Odelia’s menagerie as it was.

Chapter 25

Odelia snuck over to the nightstand, and grabbed Wolf’s phone. So the stories of the director sleeping with his phone under his pillow were greatly exaggerated.

“Hello, little one,” she whispered as she turned over the phone in her hand.

Next to her, Wolf stirred in his sleep, muttered something, then turned to his other side and went right back to snoring softly.

Meanwhile, the Chihuahua sat studying her every move. He’d clearly been briefed by Max, or else he would have barked his little head off.

She tiptoed back to where Chase was checking the pockets of Wolf’s jacket and together they clicked the phone to life. The screen lock was one of those password patterns.

She glanced at the doggie, which sat staring at her unblinkingly. Too bad she didn’t speak a dog’s language. And too bad Max and Dooley had already left, for they could talk to any animal in existence, apparently, and then relate what they told them to her. Her finger hovered over the phone, but Chase shook his head.

“Three attempts and the phone will be locked. Better not risk it.”

They hadn’t really thought this through, had they?

Just then, the little doggie softly barked once.

She turned to him and saw he was still eyeing her intently. He then did the most amazing thing. He slashed the air like Zorro used to do with his sword, creating the letter Z.

Both Chase and Odelia stared at the dog, who seemed to roll his eyes, then repeated the gesture. Slash. Yep. Just like Zorro.

She glanced down at the phone in her hand. Could it be?

Chase shook his head and mouthed,‘No! Don’t do it!’

She decided to throw caution to the wind and traced the letter Z across the small panel, connecting the dots. Instantly the phone unlocked and she made a little fist pump.

‘Omigod,’ Chase mouthed. He couldn’t believe it either.

Odelia turned to the Chihuahua and nodded her thanks. And she could have sworn the dog actually smiled!

She immediately called up the email app and scrolled through Wolf’s emails. When she saw he had a hundred unread ones, she typed Dany into the search window. Nothing. She thought for a moment, then brought up the WhatsApp app. And immediately hit the motherlode. She scrolled through Dany and Wolf’s chats. It was all pretty saucy stuff.

“Mamma mia,” Chase muttered as they read a few excerpts together. “EL James should turn this into a book.”

It confirmed that Wolf and Dany had been in a relationship, but nothing more. Odelia idly read through a few of the more recent exchanges while Chase dug through Wolf’s closet, in search of something to tie the director to the murder.

Dany had been worried about Wolf’s wife Emily, apparently, repeatedly asking Wolf how far along he was in his divorce procedure. Wolf kept assuring her he was going to file for divorce any day now, and she kept asking him to talk to his wife soon.

Finally, in the last message she’d sent him, she’d said, ‘I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep quiet. Each time I meet Emily I’m afraid I’m going to just blab it out!’

Odelia frowned. Wolf might have construed this as a threat. He might never have had any intention of divorcing his wife, who apparently was the source of his wealth and an important part of his business. So maybe he’d killed Dany before she could ‘blab it out?’

Suddenly, she noticed Chase was wildly gesturing at her from the closet he was digging through. She hurried over, Wolf’s phone still in her hand. When Chase stepped aside, she saw it: a yellow parka, tucked away in the far corner of his packed closet.

Chase gave her a meaningful look and took it out by the clothes hanger, careful not to touch the jacket itself. And the moment he did, she saw the tiny red dots that were spattered all across the front of the parka.

Blood.

Dany’s blood.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Dooley and I were walking back to the car when Harriet came walking up to us. Head hanging down, she didn’t look like her usual feisty self.

“Hey, Max. Hey, Dooley,”’ she said, and even sounded downcast.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Where is Brutus?”

“Oh, around, I guess,” she said, sounding as cheerful as a zombie who hasn’t had their daily portion of brains.

Just then, there was a yelp followed by a scream, and then we were running towards the source of the sound. I’d recognized the yelp as coming from Brutus, the scream as human in origin.

When we rounded the house, we discovered the scream had come from a small duck pond. What was it with duck ponds today? The pond itself was dwarfed by a rock wall that rose up like some jagged-edged monstrosity. The front was outfitted with climbing holds but the top hovered over that pond like a giant black beak.

When we arrived on the scene, a potbellied man was sitting on a bench, right beneath the promontory, looking dazed, with Brutus positioned squarely on his stomach.

“Brutus!” I cried. “What happened?”

“He-he saved me,” said Brutus, staring at the man with some incredulity, as the man, equally flustered, was staring right back at him. “He just saved my life.”

“Good thing you landed on my tummy, little buddy,” said the man now. “Otherwise you’d have been nothing but a grease spot on this bench.”

“See?” said Dooley. “My analogy was right on the money.”

“Oh, shut up, Dooley,” said Harriet. “Brutus?” she said croakily. “Are you all right?”

“I am now,” he said. He looked shaken, not stirred, but otherwise in excellent fettle. The man, on the other hand, now pushed the black cat from his belly and rubbed it. He looked a little winded. Being hit by a falling Brutus would do that to a person, of course.

We all looked up, at the promontory thirty feet over our heads. It wouldn’t have killed Brutus, and then again it might have.

“How the hell did you get up there?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I was wandering, thinking, and suddenly… I was falling.”

“The back of the wall must be a gentle slope down. Probably there’s some kind of path leading from the top, so climbers can walk down once they’ve reached there,” I said.

“This makes it the third time I almost died today,” said Brutus with an uncharacteristic tremor in his voice. “Maybe I should just lock myself up in the house from now on, and stay put.”

“Hey, that reminds me of those movies,” said Dooley.

“What movies?” I said.

“ThoseFinal Destinationmovies. A group of teenagers cheats death, and then death comes after them, killing them in increasingly freaky and horrible ways, one by one, until they’re all dead, except for the token survivor, who gets it in the next movie.”

“Dooley,” I said, shaking my head. “Not now.”

“But it’s exactly the same thing!” He turned to Brutus. “Did you cheat death by any chance in the past couple of weeks?”

“I cheated death three times today,” he said. He could have been white around the nostrils. It’s hard to tell with a cat, what with all the fur.

“Mh,” said Dooley, pensive. “In the movies death eventually gets them for sure. So maybe this is not your typicalFinal Destination case. Or maybe it is. In which case you’ll die in a most excruciating but very cinematic and elaborate way in the next couple of hours.”

“Oh, shut up, Dooley!” Harriet cried suddenly. “Why don’t you just shut up for once!” And after this sudden outburst she ran off at a brisk pace, leaving us all a little puzzled.

“I guess she doesn’t like movies,” said Dooley.

Just then, all hell broke loose: the lights in the manor all lit up, and loud sirens of police cars on approach ripped through the nocturnal silence.

“Uh-oh,” said Brutus. “I hope they’re not here for me.”

Chapter 26

Odelia watched on as Wolf Langdon was led from the house and into a waiting squad car. He’d already professed his innocence several times, but it was hard to argue with the yellow parka covered in Dany’s blood. When they’d finally woken him up and confronted him with the evidence, he’d been flabbergasted and had exclaimed, “That’s not mine. That’s not mine, I’m telling you! Someone put it there!” Even now, as he was being pushed into the car, he was screaming, “I’m being framed! You have to believe me! This is a setup!”

“Fat chance,” said Chase. “Framed. Yeah, right.” He bumped Odelia’s fist. “Well done, babe. Your hunch paid off in spades.” And then he walked off, to accompany Wolf to the station house for questioning.

Uncle Alec came waddling up to her.“I see my advice to stay out of this investigation was followed to the letter, huh?”

“I’m sorry, uncle. You know as well as I do it’s hard to stay away from a case like this—especially when it involves someone I knew personally.”

He nodded.“I guess I shouldn’t have warned you off. I should have known you’d ignore me. But what the hell were you and Chase doing in the man’s bedroom?”

“Following a lead,” she said. She explained about the message she’d seen on Wolf’s phone, and how she’d decided to follow up on it.

“And a good thing you did.” He scratched his scalp. “Now how am I going to explain your presence at the manor? You didn’t happen to have a search warrant, did you?”

“Um…”

“Didn’t think so,” he muttered, then walked off after Chase, shaking his head and muttering something about meddling nieces under his breath.

Odelia just hoped the evidence wouldn’t be thrown out of court because of this search warrant thingie.

At her feet, Max and Dooley had arrived, along with Brutus. Of Harriet no trace.

She squatted down and scratched her cats behind the ears.“You did well, guys. We caught the killer. This must be some kind of new record. Dany was killed this afternoon, and less than twelve hours later her killer is in police custody.”

“I don’t think he did it, though,” said Max, surprising Odelia.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Not what, who. We talked to Ringo.”

“Who?”

“Ringo? Wolf’s Chihuahua?”

“And a very nice doggie he is,” Dooley added. “Just like you said.”

“He told us Wolf was right by his side when Dany was killed.”

“He witnessed the murder?”

“He did. He didn’t see the killer’s face, though.”

“He did tell us to talk to Mr. Owl,” said Dooley.

“Mr. Owl,” she said dubiously.

“It’s an owl that lives in the tree Dany was killed under,” Max explained. “He must have seen the whole thing. We’re hoping he’ll give us a description of the killer.”

“Can you take us to the park?” Dooley asked. “Owls are nocturnal creatures. Tomorrow he’ll probably be asleep.”

She threw up her hands.“I guess so.” Sometimes she felt more like a taxi service for her cats than anything else. Then again, if Ringo was right, Wolf couldn’t be the killer.

“But we found the yellow parka hanging in his closet. It still had Dany’s blood all over it.”

“The killer could have put it there,” said Max.

“Or maybe Ringo is lying,” she offered. “Have you considered that? He could be lying to protect Wolf.” Max and Dooley surprised her by bursting out laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“If you knew Ringo like we know him, you’d know he’s incapable of lying.”

“He’s very naive,” said Dooley. “Unlike us cats, dogs are very naive, trusting creatures.”

Odelia turned to Brutus, who looked shell-shocked.“What’s wrong with him?”

“Brutus had a near-death experience again,” said Max. “The third in a row.”

“I told him it’s just like thoseFinal Destination movies,” said Dooley.

“Dooley,” said Max warningly. “Not now.”

“But it’s true!”

“I fell to my death again,” said Brutus, as if waking up from a stupor. “I was falling and falling and then I landed on something soft and squishy.”

“A fat human,” Dooley said.

“We don’t call people fat, Dooley,” said Odelia. “It’s not a nice word.”

“So what do we call them then?”

“Big-boned,” said Odelia with a mischievous glance at Max.

Max frowned.“I’m big-boned. But would you call me fat?”

“You do tend to overindulge from time to time, Max,” she said.

“Just like the guy who saved my life, and a good thing he does,” said Brutus. He glanced around. “Um, where’s Harriet?”

“I think she left,” said Dooley.

“I saw her before she took off,” said Max. “She said she was going for a walk. She needed to think and put some things into perspective.”

“Perspective?” said Brutus. “Is that the word she used?”

Max nodded.

“Huh.”

“Okay, you guys,” said Odelia. “Let’s go and see this Mr. Owl. It’s late and I really need to catch some Z’s.”

Chapter 27

Odelia parked her car near the entrance to the park, we all hopped out, and then were on our way to the notorious tree for our interview with an owl. I’d never talked to an owl before, and I was really looking forward to a t?te-?-t?te with one of these wise old birds.

There’s just something about owls that tickles my imagination. They’re fascinating creatures. Apart from that, they’re also birds, of course, and for some reason cats are intrigued by birds as a rule. Not to eat them, mind you—though there are those amongst my species who will do anything to gettheir claws on a feathered friend—but to watch as they flit to and fro. In fact I can watch birds twitter and frolic in a tree for hours. I guess where humans love to people-watch, cats love to bird-watch. And we don’t even need binoculars.

I’d told Odelia not to wait—that we’d find our own way home, and judging from the rattling sound her muffler made as she took off, she’d taken this advice to heart.

Parks, and perhaps other public places too, are quite different at night than during the day. Apart from the fact that lovers seem to flock to parks in the middle of the night—I’m referring to Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts inNotting Hill—there’s a preternatural quiet that descends over a park once the sun decides to call it a night. A hush that lies over the area like a blanket. In jungles, nocturnal animals crawl out of their hiding places and create a symphony of sound. In parks? Nothing. Not even the hiss of a snake or the chirp of a cricket.

It’s almost as if all of nature sleeps. Except cats, of course. We gather in the park for cat choir. And already, as we set paw for the tree where only hours before a young woman had met her tragic end, meows and screeches rent the air, and it was obvious that Shanille, cat choir’s director, had gathered her troops and they were all giving of their best.

“Too bad we’re missing cat choir because of this murder investigation,” said Dooley, voicing my own thoughts exactly.

“That can’t be a coincidence, can it?” said Brutus.

“What are you talking about, Brutus?” I asked.

“Perspective! She said she needed to get a little perspective. And all this time I’ve been telling her this whole thing is a matter of perspective. One big misunderstanding. Maybe she’s finally starting to see things my way?”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” I said dryly. “Harriet sees things strictly her own way.”

“But why would she use that particular word? Perspective?”

“Because that’s what people do when they’re faced with a personal crisis: they take a walk to get some perspective.”

“Mh,” said Brutus, not convinced.

It was obvious he’d started to hope against hope that Harriet would take him back. I could have told him this was a waste of time. Harriet was not one to be convinced by an argument. If Brutus wanted to win her back, he’d have to make a grand gesture. And since this was essentially the biggest crisis their relationship had faced since its inception, the grander the gesture the better. What gesture he should perform? I had no idea. I’m not an expert on feline love. And frankly I had other things on my mind. Like finding this owl.

We’d arrived at the old oak tree and stood gazing up at its majestic branches.

“Yoo-hoo,” I hooted. “Mr. Owl? Could we please have a word? It’s important.”

No response. Not even a hoo-hoo-hoooooooo.

“I don’t think he’s home,” said Dooley after we’d waited some more.

Cats have pretty sharp eyes, and I was inclined to agree with Dooley. I didn’t detect any owl in this particular tree. It was, in other words, an owl-less tree.

“But where can he be? Ringo said he was sitting in this tree this afternoon—that this tree was his home.”

“And how would Ringo know what tree Mr. Owl calls home?” Dooley argued. “Maybe he was just taking a little break from his usual tree and decided to try out this tree for size. And when this woman was murdered, he decided the tree was no good and he flew off again to sit in his own tree. Owls do fly, don’t they?”

“They do,” I said, still gazing up. I was getting a crick in the neck but I wasn’t giving up. “Yoo-hoo,” I tried again. “We’re friends of Ringo. The Chihuahua who was here this afternoon? He says you saw the murder that took place under your tree. He also says you probably saw the killer’s face. The thing is, we’re not just your regular garden-variety cats. We’re cat detectives. We detect. And right now we’re detecting the murder of that poor young woman. So if you could help us out here, we’d be very much obliged.”

“Oh, will you just shut up, already,” suddenly an irritable voice sounded from up above. It wasn’t the voice of God, at least I didn’t think so. So it was probably Mr. Owl.

“Mr. Owl,” I said, much relieved. “Is that you up there?”

“Please stop calling me Mr. Owl. I’m a lady not a gentleman. And if you dare call me Mrs. Owl I’m going to swoop down and bite you.”

“So what do we call you?”

“Rita,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Great!” I said. “So, how about it, Rita? Can you help us out here?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “You’re cats.”

No argument there. We were cats.“That’s right.”

“So this is probably just a trick to get me to come out of this tree. And then you’ll pounce on me and eat me. So no can do, cat. Please go away, and don’t come back.”

“We would never pounce on you and eat you,” said Dooley. “Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Of course not. We’re not those kind of cats.”

“What are you talking about? You’re cats. Cats eat birds. I’m a bird. This is not rocket science. So take a hike, will you? You ain’t sweet-talking me out of this tree.”

“Like I said, we’re not like that,” I said. “We, um—”

“We’re vegetarians,” said Dooley.

Both Brutus and I stared at Dooley, who smiled winningly.

“Vegetarians. Really,” said Rita. She obviously wasn’t buying it.

“Yeah, that’s right,” I said, deciding to go with the flow. “Meat is murder, right?”

“So what do you eat?” she challenged.

“Um…” I cast about for a good alternative to meat. “Brown rice?”

“Yummy,” said Dooley, while Brutus winced.

“What else?” asked Rita. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Um… lentils?” I offered, though I could already feel my stomach churning.

“I like tofu,” said Dooley. “I can eat tofu for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

“And what doyou like, black cat?” asked Rita, still not convinced.

“I like, um, broccoli,” said Brutus, then gulped. “And quinoa.”

Silence reigned for a few moments while Rita considered this. There was a soft rustle, and she flew into view, taking perch on a lower branch. She was a big bird. Big and fluffy. She looked pretty yummy to me. I’d sworn to Odelia I’d never eat birds, though, and I intended to keep my promise. Brutus, though, who’d never made such a promise, stared at Rita, and already I could hear his stomach growl and see his eyes glaze over. We were all hungry, not having eaten in hours, and a juicy bird like Ritawould have hit the spot just fine.

Instead, I said,“So. Can you tell us what happened here this afternoon?”

“Not much to tell,” said Rita. “A man stabbed a woman and left her to die. Happens all the time.” She shook her head. “Humans. They’re probably the most murderous species ever to roam this earth. Though Tyrannosaurus Rexes were no picnic either.”

I decided to ignore the philosophical musings and get right down to brass tacks.“Did you get a good look at the killer’s face?”

“Sure. He had a human face. That’s because he was a human,” she said, very logically, I thought.

“So, what did he look like?”

We all waited with bated breath for her response. This was the moment of the big reveal. The moment we’d all been waiting for. The moment we were going to learn the identity of the killer.

“How should I know?” said Rita. “Humans all look the same to me.”

Ugh. So she was one of those owls, huh?

“Yeah, they do look alike, but there are differences,” I pointed out. “Some humans have big noses, others have small noses. Some have freckles, some don’t. Some have blond hair, others have brown hair, some even have blue hair…”

She frowned, or at least I thought she did. Like with cats and fur, it’s tough to read between the feathers. “Well, he had a regular nose, I guess. Nothing to write home about. Regular face, regular build, regular mouth, regular arms, regular—”

“What color was his hair?”

“He wore one of those caps, with the bill covering the upper portion of his face.”

“Did he have a beard, mustache…”

“No beard, no mustache.”

“Color of his eyes?”

“Sunglasses,” she said with a shrug.

Dang it.“So what can you tell us about him? Any distinguishing features?”

She thought hard, then spread her wings.“I don’t know, all right? What is this? A third-degree? Why is this so important, anyway? Plenty of humans get killed all the time.”

“It’s important because Dany Cooper was a friend of our human.”

“Yeah, you may think humans all enjoy killing each other but that’s simply not true,” said Dooley. “Our human is a very nice human and she would never kill anyone. She just wouldn’t. In fact she dedicates her life to finding those nasty humans who do kill others.”

“It’s also against the law,” said Brutus. “The human law, that is.”

“Well…” The owl hesitated. “He did have one distinguishing feature that I thought was a little weird.”

“What was it?” I asked, suddenly excited again.

“He had an owl-shaped mole on the back of his hand, which I personally found insulting.”

“An owl-shaped mole?”

“Yup. On his right hand—the hand he stabbed the woman with. Very inappropriate. I mean, I admit to enjoying a nice, juicy mouse from time to time, but I’d never kill a fellow owl. That’s just so… human.”

“You’re right,” I said. “Only humans kill other humans.”

“That’s not entirely true, though,” said Dooley, surprising us. “There are plenty of species that kill their own. In fact the most murderous mammal species are meerkats. Meerkats kill twenty percent of their own kind.”

“Interesting,” I said, wondering why, oh why I had ever extolled the virtues of the Discovery Channel. He wasn’t finished, though. Like a real professor, he just droned on.