Purrfect Sidekick. Purrfect Wedding. Purrfect Deceit. Purrfect Ruse

“I know,” said Odelia. “Try not to talk, honey.”

“Marvin Harrison,” said Chase as he placed handcuffs on the guy’s hands, “I’m arresting you for the attempted murder of—”

“That’s not Marvin,” I told Odelia. “That’s Franklin. And Chase should probably arrest him for the murder of his brother Marvin, too, and the murder of those other two men.”

Odelia gaped at Marvin/Franklin.“Franklin?” she asked.

The guy turned to her, and flashed a nasty grin.“So you finally figured it out, huh?”

Odelia turned to me, then to Francine.“But…”

“Yeah, that’s Franklin, all right,” said Francine. “I recognized him immediately. He might have fooled all the others, but he didn’t fool his own wife—I know my husband.”

“Oh, shut up—you ruined everything!” Franklin yelled as Chase escorted him out of the room, then past his kids, and out of the apartment.

“I don’t understand,” said Odelia. “I thought that was Marvin.”

“He must have taken his place,” said Francine, gingerly touching her throat. “Don’t ask me why, though knowing Franklin it must have something to do with money.”

“We better get you to a doctor to have that looked at,” said Odelia.

“My girls,” said Francine. “I don’t want them to see me like this.” She threw Odelia a pleading look, and Odelia quickly searched around, found a scarf, and helped Francine tie that around her neck.

Then we all left the bedroom, and Francine announced to her girls,“We’re going on a little trip, girls. Do you want to come?”

They both cheered and said,“Yeah!”

Then they caught sight of us, and turned their attention to the two‘pussy cats.’

I must admit that being fondled by a three-year-old did not become me. They poked us, and they prodded us, and pulled our ears, all the drive down to the doctor’s office!

When finally we arrived at our destination, and Odelia helped Francine out of the car, followed by her two girls, Dooley turned to me and said in a shaky voice,“Max, maybe when that stork finally arrives, we’ll simply pretend like we didn’t see it?”

I smiled at my friend.“Had enough already, have you?”

He nodded emphatically.“They pulled my ears, they pulled my tail, they poked my belly, they even tried to poke my eyes, wanting to know if they were real! Max, I don’t want babies. Ever!”

“That’s fine, Dooley. Neither does Odelia—at least for the time being.” I glanced down the street, and said, “And now let’s solve this other little matter, shall we?”

“What other little matter?”

“The big rift.”

Chapter 33

Shanille was walking down the street, on her way to the General Store to talk to Kingman and ask him to join her effort to oust Harriet from the group once and for all, when suddenly she was accosted by Max and Dooley.

“Hey, you guys,” she said. “Fancy meeting you here.” She grinned, indicating this was one of her little jokes. Unfortunately Max wasn’t smiling, and neither was Dooley, for that matter.

“Shanille, we need to talk,” said Max.

“Just what I was thinking. We need to have a nice long talk about Harriet.”

“Of course,” said Max, gracious as ever. “And we will. But first I would like to talk to you about the new cat choir Dooley and I are starting.”

“The new cat choir?” she asked, much surprised.

Max nodded.“Frankly Dooley and I have had it with these fights between you and Harriet, so we’ve decided to start our own cat choir, and I’m sorry to tell you that you are not invited, Shanille. And neither,” he added when she opened her mouth so speak, “is Harriet, for that matter.”

“This will be a choir without you and without Harriet,” Dooley said, making matters perfectly clear.

“But… you can’t do that!” said Shanille.

“We can and we will,” said Max. “And I’ll have to be honest with you, Shanille, we’ve been talking to a lot of the other cats about this, and they’re all very excited about this new project. In fact every single cat we’ve talked to so far has agreed to come on board.”

“They’re all fed up with all the fighting,” Dooley said.

“Yeah, this will be non-fighting cat choir. A cat choir where all the members join up strictly to have a good time, to sing together, have fun together, and to shoot the breeze. To gossip and to crack jokes and enjoy the kind of warm friendship that we all like.”

“And you’re not invited,” Dooley repeated, “and neither is Harriet. Right, Max?”

“Absolutely. So far we’re looking at, oh, eighty-five to ninety percent of the cats?”

“You’ve already talked to ninety percent of my members?”

“Something like that. And all of them—”

“That’s one hundred percent,” Dooley added.

“All of them have signed up. So it looks like very soon now there will be three cat choirs: the one run by me and Dooley, the one run by you, which will have only one single member, and the one run by Harriet which also will have but a single member.”

“Too bad, but that’s just the way it is,” said Dooley.

“But that’s not fair!” said Shanille. “I want to have a cat choir where cats get together to have a good time, and sing and have fun together!”

“Well, I guess you had your chance and you blew it,” said Max with a shrug.

“But Max, please—you can’t do this!”

“I’m afraid we just did,” said Dooley.

“But… can’t I join your cat choir, Max? Please?”

Max looked at Dooley, and Dooley looked at Max, then Max said,“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Shanille. Because if we let you in, we also have to let Harriet in, and you know what that means.”

“There will be fighting,” said Dooley. “That’s what Max means.”

“I won’t fight, I promise. It’s Harriet who’s the trouble. She’s the one who’s always fighting. Undermining my authority and picking fights.”

“See?” said Max to Dooley. “This is why I told you not to allow Shanille in.”

“You told me this would happen,” said Dooley, nodding sagely.

“Exactly. So no, Shanille, we won’t let you in. I’m very sorry.”

“But…” She thought hard. “But what if I make up with Harriet? What if I talk to Harriet and the two of us make up and promise to be friends? Would that work?”

“I’m not sure,” said Max dubiously.

“I’m not sure either,” said Dooley. “Would it?”

“You’d have to make up with Harriet first,” said Max. “And you’d have to convince us that you mean it.”

“I will—I promise you I will!”

“Do you believe her, Dooley?” asked Max.

“I want to believe her,” said Dooley.

“Look, talk things over with Harriet, all right? And better sit out cat choir tonight. And when you feel like you’re ready, you and Harriet better convince us that you mean business. Or else it’s bye-bye with cat choir for you. Is that understood?”

She nodded fifty times in quick succession.“Absolutely.”

“I think she understood, Max,” said Dooley.

Max smiled.“I think so too, Dooley.”

Shanille walked off, and thought hard about what Max and Dooley had told her. She didn’t want to leave cat choir. Cat choir was her life. If they kicked her out… And so she went in search of Harriet. She needed to patch things up with her—pronto!

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Harriet had been planning and plotting, plotting and planning, with Brutus in her wake. Her mate wasn’t as excited about the prospect of her running cat choir as she was, but that couldn’t be helped. Part of joining the ranks of upper management was that one was supposed to be able to motivate the lower echelon, and so she’d been working on motivating Brutus, but so far her pep talks hadn’t had a lot of effect on the black cat.

“When I’m in charge of cat choir I’ll basically run this town,” said Harriet as they walked along the sidewalk in the direction of the General Store to convince Kingman to join her side. “And you know what that means, Brutus.”

“No, I don’t know what that means,” said her life partner.

“It means all the perks are ours!”

“What perks?”

“The perks—you know.”

“No, frankly I don’t know. And frankly I think antagonizing Shanille also means antagonizing half this town’s cat population.”

“Only if I don’t succeed in convincing the majority to vote for me,” she said.

“What if fifty-one percent does vote for you? Then forty-nine percent will still be against you. There will be two cat choirs. One run by you and one run by Shanille. And it’s going to make life in this town a living hell for us, can’t you see that?”

No, she didn’t see that. What she did see was that she had to beat Shanille. The choir conductor had annoyed her one time too many and she had to go. No matter the consequences.

Suddenly, out of the blue, Max and Dooley materialized in front of them, blocking their passage.

“Hey, guys,” she said. “I was just looking for you. You are going to vote for me tonight, aren’t you? You know how important this is.”

“I’m afraid we have some bad news for you, Harriet,” said Max.

“Bad news for you, good news for us,” said Dooley.

“What bad news?” asked Harriet, looking from Max to Dooley.

“We’re starting our own cat choir,” said Max.

“And you’re not invited,” said Dooley.

“What?!” she laughed. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ve decided that we’ve had enough of all the bickering, and we’re starting our own bicker-free cat choir,” said Max. “And you’re not in it, and neither is Shanille.”

“But…” She blinked and glanced to Brutus for support. He just stood there, a slight smile on his lips, the traitor! “You can’t do this!”

“Funny. That’s exactly what Shanille said,” said Max.

“Yeah, she said just the same thing,” Dooley added.

“You talked to Shanille already?”

“She wasn’t happy,” said Dooley.

“You know that she actually said she’d talk to you and try to reconcile?” asked Max.

“Shanille wants to talk to me and reconcile?”

“She begged us to be included in our new cat choir,” Max explained, “and we told her the only way that was ever going to happen was if she promised that you and she would get along from now on.”

“Shanille and me getting along?”

“Yeah, crazy, right? We all know you and Shanille will never get along. And so one hundred percent of the cats we’ve talked to so far—”

“Which represent ninety percent of the Hampton Cove cat population,” said Dooley.

“—have agreed to join our new cat choir, on the condition that you and Shanille are not allowed in as members. So there you have it. From now on there will be three cat choirs in town: ours, yours, and Shanille’s.”

“But you guys!”

Brutus now started laughing for real.“I love it,” he grunted.

“Brutus, shut up!”

“Sugar plum, you know I love you, but I’m sick and tired of all the bickering, too. If you and Shanille can’t get along, maybe you should start your own cat choir, with only the two of you as members. That way you can bicker and fight as much as you want, and you won’t stop the rest of us from having a good time.”

“But…” She looked from Max to Dooley to Brutus. “But but but…”

“Oh, there’s Shanille now,” said Max. “Well, I guess we’ll just leave you to it. But remember: the only way you can join our new cat choir is if you promise to behave.”

“But Max!”

But Max was off, followed by Dooley and… Brutus!

And then it was just Shanille and her.

Both cats stared at each other for a moment in awkward silence, sizing each other up, then Shanille said,“I guess they told you about their new cat choir?”

“Yeah, they just did.”

“And the fact that either we get along or we’re both out?”

“Yeah, can you believe that? I mean, youare cat choir, Shanille. Cat choir is nothing without you.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Cat choir is bigger than either of us, Harriet. Cat choir isn’t me, or you, or any of us. Cat choir is the whole community—all the cats of Hampton Cove. And frankly if they really decide to kick us out…”

And for the first time ever, Harriet saw that Shanille actually had tears in her eyes!

“Oh, sweetie,” she said. “Don’t be sad. We’ll just go to Max and talk to him together.”

“I know Max, Harriet. He isn’t kidding. I can tell.”

Yeah, frankly she’d had that impression herself. Max usually was such a laidback individual, but when things got rough he could be really tough. There had been a note of steel in his voice when he’d explained the rules of new cat choir to her, and he’d meant what he said: either they patched things up, or no more cat choir for either of them.

“Look, I think maybe we let things get a little out of hand,” she said finally.

“You think?” Shanille scoffed.

“But you can be so annoying, Shanille!”

“Oh, as if you’re not annoying,Harriet!”

They both glowered at each other for a few beats, then burst out laughing.

“What are we doing?!” Harriet cried.

“We’re idiots, both of us!”

“I’m the biggest idiot of all, though.”

“No, I’m the biggest idiot.”

“No, Shanille—I’m the biggest idiot!”

“Okay, fine. You win. You’re the biggest idiot, and I’m the second-biggest idiot.”

“Fair enough,” said Harriet, much sobered.

They were both silent for a moment, then Shanille said, “So how do you want to play this?”

“I say we go to Max and tell him that we reconciled.”

“Did we reconcile, though?”

Harriet gave her frenemy a warm smile.“Of course we did. Shanille, you know there’s no one I love to fight with more than you.”

“Aw, do you really mean that?”

“Absolutely. You’re my absolute favorite nemesis in the world.”

“And you’re my favorite nemesis.”

“But maybe we won’t tell Max about that part, all right?”

“No, I don’t think he’d understand.”

Somehow, though, Harriet had a feeling that he would.

Epilogue

“Okay, so spill, Max,” said Harriet. “Tell us how you figured it out, cause I gotta be honest with you—I do not understand anything!”

“Me neither,” Brutus grunted.

“It’s those two girls,” said Dooley.

“What two girls?”

“Jaime and Marje. They pulled my tail and they pulled my whiskers, and then they pulled my ears and poked my belly, and so I said no more. No more babies. So no more stork either. Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Absolutely, Dooley,” said Max, “though I don’t think that’s what Harriet was talking about.”

“Oh.”

“Odelia!” said Gran. “You have got to explain what happened, cause I don’t understand a thing!”

“Me neither,” Uncle Alec grunted irritably as he nursed a cold brewski.

We were in Marge and Tex’s backyard, with Tex manning the grill as usual, and providing us all with those delicious nuggets of grilled meats and veggies we all love and adore so much. Okay, so some of them were medium rare while others were rare, and still others were overdone, but let’s not nitpick. The fun of a barbecue is not the quality of the food, but the quality of the people present, right? And the quality of those present was nothing to be caviled at: the entire Poole clan, of course, expanded with Charlene and Scarlett. And on the cat side there was of course myself, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus.

“Okay, so what do you want to know?” I asked.

“Everything!” said Harriet. “Just take it from the top, Max, and don’t skip anything!”

“Fine,” I said. “So Franklin Harrison had come to the end of his rope, right? And he knew there was no way for him to redeem himself. His dad had cut him off, and had cut him out of his will, and so he was effectively stuck. Now you have to remember that this was a man who hadn’t worked a day in his life, and he didn’t intend to start working for a living now. And so he decided there was only one way out of this: by getting rid of his twin brother and making it look as if he was the victim. That way he could take Marvin’s place, and suddenly the bad twin had become the good twin, and he had the world at his feet again. I don’t have to explain to you that Franklin is not a good person. Never was.”

“He probably squished ants when he was little,” said Dooley.

“Only problem was,” said Odelia, who was telling the same story but to the human audience, “that he needed a fall guy, right? Someone to blame the murder on. And who better to blame than that loser Joshua Curtis, who’d been hounding him ever since he’d been foolish enough to start something with Melanie Myers? So Franklin set up a meeting with Joshua at the Parker Street house and arranged the rendezvous for eleven forty-five on the night of the murder, so making sure that the house wouldn’t have burnt down completely, and that Marvin’s body would still be more or less unblemished.”

“See, he didn’t want the police to have to check the victim’s teeth,” I explained.

“Because that would have been a dead giveaway,” said Odelia. “They’d have known the victim wasn’t Franklin Harrison but was in fact Marvin Harrison. This was also the reason he made sure his brother’s lower torso and arms were seriously burned—he wanted to make sure that no fingerprints could be lifted from the dead person.”

“He’d already left by the time Joshua arrived, sneaking out the backdoor and through the vacant lot next to the house. He was seen leaving by Vanda Dibble, but that couldn’t be helped. And then to make sure that the fire department would get there on time, he called 911 himself and masked hisvoice with a voice changing app. He then drove straight across town to Joshua’s house and planted the jerrycans in his garage. He knew the way, since he’d been there before to steal a glass from Joshua’s kitchen, hoping it would contain the man’s fingerprints. He then placed his own fingerprints, added some Rohypnol mixed with a little water, and made sure to plant the glass at the scene.”

“But,” said Gran, “how could he be sure that his brother would die from smoke inhalation? Wasn’t that leaving things to chance?”

“It was,” said Odelia. “Which is why he killed Marvin somewhere else.”

“He actually killed his brother in that old shed we saw on the family domain, Dooley,” I said. “Remember how that was partially burned out? He arranged to meet his brother, drugged him, then set the shed on fire and waited until Marvin was dead from smoke inhalation. Then he removed him from the shed and transported him to Parker Street, where he arranged the scene to make it look as if Marvin had been killed in the fire.”

“It’s a miracle Vanda Dibble didn’t see him arrive at the scene,” said Marge.

“Oh, I’m sure she did,” said Odelia. “She saw what she figured was just another drug dealer arrive, and unload what she assumed was a big shipment of drugs. She didn’t report it to the police, since she’d reported that kind of thing so many times before, and she’d lost faith in the police department.”

“Raiding that place was on my list,” Uncle Alec muttered. When Charlene rubbed his arm, he added apologetically, “It’s a long list.”

“I know, honey,” said the Mayor. “And you are understaffed. And I will make sure you get more people so that this sort of thing won’t happen again.”

“So he killed his brother, and then what?” asked Tex, who’d joined them at the table, tongs in hand, allowing the meat on the grill to sizzle merrily—though perhaps a touch too long.

“Well,” said Odelia, “now he had to take his brother’s place and pretend to be him. Now you can fool the people who only know you superficially, but it’s a lot harder to fool your own family.”

“I think Franklin’s mom figured it out almost immediately,” I said, “but he told her he and Marvin met and Marvin died in a freak accident, and he was too late to save him.”

“And how did he explain that he’d decided to take his brother’s place?” asked Brutus.

“That’s where Ruth made a big mistake,” I explained. “She should have called him out on that, but she didn’t. And it’s understandable, of course. Franklin had always been her favorite son—the son she loved the most, even though he was the most mischievous one. And I think she was so happy to see him return to the bosom of the family that she decided to overlook the ruse. Maybe she even thought it wasn’t such a bad idea, seeing as how Marvin’s death would have meant a great disruption for the business side of things, since her husband would have adamantly refused to accept Franklin suddenly taking over at the helm of the company.”

“And then Herbert Harrison suddenly and conveniently dies,” said Chase.

“I don’t think that was an accident,” said Odelia. “I think Franklin killed his dad. Pushed a pillow down on his face and smothered him. He hasn’t confessed to that yet.”

“But he will,” Chase grunted.

“But why?” asked Harriet.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I said. “The old man must have realized that Franklin had taken the place of his brother, and he wasn’t going to accept that. He also must have suspected that Franklin killed his brother—he knew what kind of man his son was. So Franklin decided to end things for the old man, and grab the reins of the family business free and clear.”

“How horrible,” said Marge, shaking her head.

“Yeah, he’s a real piece of work,” Odelia agreed.

“So what about Francine Ritter?” asked Gran. “Why did he try to kill her?”

“Because she recognized her husband the moment she saw him. She wasn’t fooled. And he knew that would happen, which is why he refused to see her. But then they happened to meet on the street, and that was it. Francine knew it was him, and quickly put two and two together, and decided to use theopportunity to finally make him pay. And he promised he would, until he decided he wouldn’t—and tried to kill her.”

“God,” said Scarlett. “What a terrible business.”

“But how did you find out, Max?” asked Harriet. “How did you figure it out?”

“Well, two things,” I said. “First there was the shed, and then there were the slippers.”

“The shed and the slippers? That sounds like a Disney movie.”

“So when we visited the Harrisons we saw that little shed that was half burned down. At first I thought this must have happened a long time ago, but then Jane—she’s the pony who used to belong to Francine’s girls—told me how the gardener was such a marvel. How he always kept the place looking so immaculate. So it got me wondering why a gardener like that would tolerate that decrepit old shed? And of course he didn’t. That fire happened a couple of days ago, when Franklin murdered Marvin. And then he decided to have it torn down to remove the evidence, and build a pagoda in its place.”

“And what about the slippers?” asked Brutus.

“One of the maids had expressed her bewilderment at how she put Franklin’s slippers on one side of the bed at night, and how in the morning she always found them on the other side. A man can change identities, but he just might forget on which side of the bed the twin he murdered used to get upin the morning.”

“But how did you know he was going to try and kill Francine Ritter?”

“I remembered how frightened Franklin had looked just after meeting Francine on the street. I’d figured at the time he was afraid that now he’d have to pay her the child support his brother owed, but why would a man of such wealth be afraid of a measly sum like that? No, he was scared, all right—scared because he knew that Francine had recognized him, and that as long as she was around, his secret would never be safe.”

“And so he tried to make sure she’d never talk again,” said Brutus, nodding.

“What a story,” said Harriet. “And what a good thing you figured it out in time, Max. Or else those two girls would be orphans now.”

“Francine and her girls are going to move in with Ruth Harrison, by the way,” I said. “She’s finally realized that her former daughter-in-law didn’t have a bad influence on Franklin, but that Franklin was actually the debilitating influence in her life.”

“So Jane is going to have her friends back?” asked Dooley happily.

“Yes, Dooley,” I said with a smile. “Jane will finally have her friends back, and Ruth will finally get to spend more time with her granddaughters—in fact she’ll be spending all of her time with them, as she’s looking for a CEO to run the business from now on.”

“See?” said Gran. “I knew that Joshua was innocent. Odelia’s clients always are.”

“Joshua was never my client, Gran,” said Odelia, pressing her point again. “I’m just a reporter, and reporters don’t have clients. We only have stories to pursue.”

“Well, this sure was one hell of a story,” said Marge. “Anyone more potato salad?”

And while Marge ladled more potato salad onto everyone’s plates, Charlene gave Uncle Alec a little shove. “Well?” she said when he didn’t react. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to say?”

“Um…” said the Chief, scratching his scalp. “Well, I’m afraid I’ve acted like a fool, Odelia. I thought you were hampering my case, while in fact you were solving it. So…”

“That’s all right, Uncle Alec,” said Odelia magnanimously. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Actually I’m the one who should apologize to you, Chief,” said Chase. “Even though you told me not to, I kept feeding Odelia information from the investigation.”

“I knew you did,” Uncle Alec grumbled. “But that’s all right. If you hadn’t, Francine Ritter would be dead right now, and Joshua Curtis would still be in jail—an innocent man.” He sighed deeply. “Maybe I’m getting too old for this stuff.”

“Nonsense,” said Charlene curtly. “You just need to learn to listen to your niece. She’s a smart cookie. But since the apple doesn’t fall from the tree, you’re a smart cookie, too, all right?”

“More like hardtack,” he said with a grimace.

“And you owe me an apology, too, by the way,” said Gran. “Scarlett and I did the right thing trying to get rid of that evidence, isn’t that so, Scarlett?”

“Um, not too sure about that, Vesta,” said Scarlett.

“Yeah, not too sure about that either,” said the Chief with a not-so-apologetic look at his mother and her friend. “Next time you pull a stunt like that I’m keeping you two overnight. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Alec,” said Scarlett meekly.

“Yes, Alec,” Gran said, equally meekly, after getting a full dose of her son’s irritation.

“So how is cat choir?” asked Odelia as she joined us, and came bearing gifts in the form of a few little prize nuggets of meat she’d saved from total annihilation for us.

“Cat choir is just grand,” said Harriet. “Shanille and I have made up, and Max has decided to let us into his new cat choir, isn’t that right, Max?”

“Yeah, but you know the conditions, Harriet.”

“What are the conditions?” asked Odelia with a smile.

“No more fighting!” said Brutus and Dooley in unison.

“Sounds like a great idea,” said Odelia, and gave us all cuddles and kisses, then whispered into my ear, “You did great, Max. And what’s even better: you made me look good, too. So thank you for that.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Odelia,” I said. Which was absolutely true.

“We make a great team, don’t we, buddy?”

“Yes, we do.”

Suddenly Dooley raised his eyes, and started saying,“Shoo! Shoo! We don’t want you here, stork! Shoo!”

“That’s not a stork, Dooley,” I said. “That’s a pigeon.”

“Oh, phew,” he said, and sank down onto the porch swing again, not meeting Odelia’s eye.

“Dooley, for the last time, Chase and I are not going to start a family just yet. Okay?” She gave him an extra cuddle. “You guys are my family. And right now you’re all I need.”

And wasn’t that the best endorsement any cat could hope to get from their human?

Dooley leaned over to me and whispered,“Do you think I should take down that ‘Stork, go home!’ sign now, Max?”

“Yeah, I think that’s probably a good idea, Dooley,” I whispered back.

33. PURRFECT RUSE

Chapter 1

Look, don’t get me wrong: I enjoy a murder even less than the next cat, even though it isn’t necessarily my own species who’s affected by this tragic loss of life. But when the only cases coming Odelia’s way are spouses wanting to catch their other spouses in the act of cheating on those selfsame spouses—the first spouses, not the second ones, if you see what I mean—life becomes pretty dull and monotony soon reigns supreme.

Dooley, though, didn’t seem to mind all these people being cheated upon—or is it cheated on—from finding their way into Odelia’s office. But then again, Dooley watches a lot of daytime soaps, and eighty percent of the storylines on these soaps are exactly the cheating kind of stuff. The other twenty percent isprobably illegitimate children suddenly popping up out of the blue, which frankly speaking is the same thing.

So it was with a sigh of relief that I greeted the next person entering our human’s office at the Hampton Cove Gazette. She was a large woman with red-rimmed eyes, clearly suffering from some acute or life-threatening trouble. Immediately I assumed murder, which just goes to show how warped my mind has become after having spent the formative years of my life in Odelia’s presence and that of her cop husband, her cop uncle and her neighborhood watch grandma. And it was with bated breath that I pricked up my ears as the woman took a proffered seat and launched into her tale of woe.

“My Chouchou has gone missing,” she lamented.

“Murder,” I told Dooley, my friend and housemate who was lounging right next to me in the cozy little nook of the office Odelia had reserved for us. “Just you mark my words, Dooley. Chouchou is this woman’s husband and he’s been brutally butchered.”

“Strange name for a husband,” said Dooley.

“Who is Chouchou?” asked Odelia, not missing a trick. She had looked up from her computer where she’d been busily typing up a report of her recent visit to the town library, where a recital by some local children’s orchestra had taken place.

“My sweet baby,” said the woman, sniffling and pressing a Kleenex to her eyes.

“Not a husband, a kid,” I corrected my earlier statement. “Bad business, Dooley. A child killer on the loose.”

“Strange name for a kid,” was Dooley’s opinion.

“And when did Chouchou go missing?” asked Odelia.

“Last night,” said the woman, waving a distraught hand in the general direction of the street. “She usually goes out at night but by the time I get up in the morning she’s always lying at the foot of the bed, sleeping peacefully. Only this morning she wasn’t there!”

“Does your daughter always sleep at the foot of the bed?” asked Odelia with a curious frown. It isn’t up to her to judge people, so she never does, but she couldn’t hide her surprise at this strange way to spend a night.

“Oh, but Chouchou isn’t my daughter,” said the woman. “She’s my little gii-ii-ii–rl!”

“So is Chouchou a… dog?” Odelia guessed.

The woman promptly stopped wailing, and gave Odelia a look of surprise.“Of course she’s not a dog. She’s my precious sweetheart. My sweet and lovely Maine Coon.”

“Huh,” I said, sagging a little as a sense of slight disappointment swept over me. Cats going missing is not exactly the kind of case I live for. Cats go missing all the time, you see, and usually they show up again within twenty-four hours, when their sense of adventure is sated and they return, utterly famished and happy to be home again.

“So Chouchou went missing last night,” said Odelia, summing up the state of affairs succinctly. I could see that she was less than excited at the prospect of traipsing all over town in search of a missing cat. “So does Chouchou usually stay out all night?”

“She does, but like I said, she’s always back in the morning. I have no idea where she goes, and frankly I don’t care—live and let live, I say, and that goes for my pets, too.”

“Pets as in… you have more than one cat?”

“I have a gerbil,” said the woman.

“Gerbils aren’t pets,” I muttered.

“So what are they?” asked Dooley.

“Pests,” I returned.

“Look, you come highly recommended, Miss Poole,” said the woman, who still hadn’t given us her name, by the way. “Everybody knows that you’re Hampton Cove’s leading cat lady, and so if there’s anyone who can find my precious baby it’s you.” She leaned forward, a pleading look in her eyes. “Can you help me find my Chouchou—please?”

“If I were you, Miss…”

“Bunyon,” said the woman. “Kathleen Bunyon. And it’s Mrs.”

“If I were you, Mrs. Bunyon, I’d wait another twenty-four hours. I’m sure that your baby will show up as soon as she gets hungry.”

“But this isn’t like her. She never stays out this long. Can’t you please help me?”

“Did you go to the police?”

“I did. And you know what they said?”

“I can imagine.”

“They said missing pets are not a priority at the moment. Can you imagine? If a missing pet isn’t a priority, what is?”

“Missing people, perhaps?” I suggested.

The woman glanced in my direction, having picked up my discreetly mewled commentary.“Oh, I see you bring your babies to work with you. Very clever.”

“Yeah, they like to be where I am,” Odelia confirmed with a warm smile.

Suddenly Mrs. Bunyon got up and joined me and Dooley in our corner.“Can’t you find my baby for me, sweet pussies? I know you’re as clever as Miss Poole is—or at least that’s what people keep telling me.”

I turned to Dooley.“Do you know this Chouchou?”

“I’m not sure,” said Dooley, thinking hard.

“What does she look like?” I asked.

And if you think it’s strange for two cats as established in our local community as we are not to know all the cats that reside in that community, I have to confess that there are so many cats now that it’s frankly impossible to know them all. Furthermore, not all cats are as socially active as Dooley and myself are, so the name frankly didn’t ring a bell.

“What does your Chouchou look like?” asked Odelia, as she opened a new file on her computer and started typing.

“Well, she’s small and very beautiful. Oh, wait. I’ve got a picture of her on my phone.” Mrs. Bunyon took her phone out of her purse and swiped it to life. “In fact I have more than one,” she admitted, and started showing us a regular barrage of pictures. She must have had thousands on there. All of them showed a very hairy Maine Coon, with a slightly stunned look in her eyes, as if she hadn’t signed up for life as a photo model.

“Nah,” I said. “Never seen her before in my life.”

“You have no idea where she goes at night?” asked Odelia.

“Not a clue,” said Mrs. Bunyon as she pressed play on a video she’d shot of her fur baby playing with a sponge. “The neighbor says he sees her walking in the direction of the park when he walks his dog, and that’s usually around eleven o’clock at night.”

“Cat choir,” I said knowingly.

“I haven’t seen her either,” said Dooley, who’d taken a long time to come to a definite position on this. “If she’s a member of cat choir she’s one of the less noticeable ones.”

Not every member of cat choir likes to stand out, of course. Some of them like to be the star of the show, like Harriet, our Persian housemate, but others simply show up and stay in the background.

“Look, I’ll see what I can do,” said Odelia with a pointed look in my direction.

I rolled my eyes.“Really?” I said. “She’s probably just wandering around having the time of her life. She’ll be back before you know it.”

“Don’t you worry, Mrs. Bunyon, I’ll find your Chouchou for you” said Odelia, widening her eyes at me.

“Oh, all right,” I said with a groan. “I’ll go look for her. But if she’s home safe and sound while we’re traipsing all over town looking for her…”

“The moment she arrives home you’ll tell me though, right?” said Odelia.

“Oh, yes, of course.” Mrs. Bunyon had clasped her hands together in a gesture of silent prayer. “You’ll find her for me, won’t you, Miss Poole? You’ll do whatever you can to bring my baby home to me?”

“Yes, absolutely,” said Odelia, making a promise I knew she was going to hand over to me as soon as Mrs. Bunyon had left—it’s called delegating and humans are experts at it.

“Thank you,” said Kathleen Bunyon. “Thank you so much!” She’d clasped Odelia’s hand and squeezed it, then vigorously shook it, almost removing it from its parent socket. “I knew I could count on you.”

The moment the woman had left, Odelia gave me and Dooley a smile.“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you, boys,” she said, then pointed to the door. “So chop, chop. Don’t dawdle. Go and find Chouchou.”

“We’re not dogs, Odelia,” I said with an exaggerated sigh as I got up from my perch.

“I know you’re not dogs, but you saw how devastated Mrs. Bunyon is over the disappearance of her cat. And just imagine if you guys went missing, how devastated I would be.”

“We’d never do that to you, Odelia,” said Dooley earnestly. “If we went missing we’d first tell you where we went missing to.”

“Come on, Dooley,” I said. “Let’s go and find ourselves a Chouchou.”

Chapter 2

Traipsing along the sidewalk, I must confess at that moment I had no idea the mess we’d soon find ourselves in. As I said, cats go missing all the time, and in due course they always come back. So I had no reason to assume that this time things would be different.

“Where are we going, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Well, let’s first talk to Kingman,” I suggested. In our town Kingman is also the king of gossip. I’m not sure if that’s why he’s called Kingman, but he is the cat we all turn to when we need to find out what’s going on in our local little feline community.

Kingman is a very large and frankly slightly obese cat, who likes to hold forth outside his owner’s grocery store, where he enjoys both an endless supply of cat food, courtesy of Wilbur Vickery, his human, and an equally endless supply of pretty lady cats prancing by. Kingman isn’t just the king of gossip, you see, but also something of a ladies’ cat.

“Max! Dooley!” he said by way of greeting. “Just the fellas I wanted to see!”

“Hello, Kingman,” I said as I returned his hearty greeting. “What did you need us for?”

“I’ve got a favor to ask you. See, Wilbur wants back in.”

“Back in what?”

“Back in the neighborhood watch, of course. He’s been reading about how Vesta has been so successful dealing with this recent crime wave, catching bad guys all over the place, and he wants a piece of the action.” He lowered his voice as he darted a quick look at his human, busily ringing up wares for his never-ending line of customers. “Wilbur is bored to his eyeballs. And he fondly remembers his time, however brief, as a member of the watch. He feels he’s not doing enough for this town so he wants back in. What do you say?”

“What do you want me to say?” I said, not sure what it was that Kingman expected from me.

“Talk to Vesta! Tell her to let Wilbur back on the team!”

“You know Vesta, Kingman. She’ll never go for it.”

“Come on, Max, don’t be like that. You hold sway with the woman. If you ask her to let Wilbur back on the team, I’m sure she’ll give it some serious consideration.”

Frankly, I wasn’t sure that letting Wilbur back on the watch team was such a good idea. The last time he’d been a member he’d made a real nuisance of himself.

“Oh, and you better ask her to let Francis Reilly back in, too.”

“Father Reilly wants back in, too?”

“Sure! You know that he and Wilbur are like this.” He intertwined twin nails to show us how close the shop owner and the parish priest were. It was an unlikely friendship, I must admit, since Wilbur isn’t exactly a paragon of virtue. More like a paragon of vice, the way he likes to ogle any person of the opposite sex, whether eligible or ineligible.

“Look, I’ll talk to Gran, all right?” I said. “But first you’ve got to help us, Kingman.”

“Ask me anything! Frankly, between you and me, if Vesta doesn’t take Wilbur back that man is going to drive me nuts. All he does all night is sit on his couch and whine!”

“Look, a cat has gone missing,” I said, wanting to get off the topic of Wilbur and onto the topic I was really interested in.

“Her name is Chouchou,” Dooley supplied helpfully. “And she’s a Maine Coon.”

“She’s a member of cat choir but after last night’s rehearsal she didn’t come home.”

“Probably out on a toot,” said Kingman knowingly. “You know how it is. A couple of us like to hit the town after cat choir, and this Chouchou of yours must be just like that.”

“She doesn’t sound like a party-loving cat to me, Kingman,” I said.

“More like a peace-and-quiet-loving cat,” Dooley added.

“What does she look like?” asked Kingman with a slight frown.

“White with red stripes across her face.”

“She’s very pretty,” said Dooley. “In an understated sort of way.”

“Very pretty, eh?” said Kingman, rubbing his whiskers thoughtfully. “Mh.”

Kingman knows pretty. In fact I’m willing to bet that Kingman probably knows every cat who scores more than a five or a six on his personal prettiness scale.

“I think I know the cat you’re talking about,” the large cat finally said. “Chouchou. Yeah, definitely rings a bell. Mousy kind of feline, right?”

“Chouchou is not a mouse, Kingman,” said Dooley with a laugh. “She’s a cat!”

“Yeah, even a cat can be mousy, Dooley.”

“They can?” asked Dooley, much surprised.

“Sure. Just like a mouse can be catty, a cat can be mousy.”

“Huh,” said Dooley with a frown as he processed this startling new information.

“So have you seen her or haven’t you seen her?” I asked, wanting to get to the bottom of this missing cat business and move on. I’d been enjoying a leisurely time in Odelia’s office and wanted to return to my cozy little nook as soon as possible if you please.

But Kingman shook his head.“Can’t say that I have,” he said. “You see, Chouchou is not one of those cats that really stand out, if you know what I mean.”

“You mean she’s more like a cat who stands in?” asked Dooley.

“Not exactly,” Kingman replied with a grin. “And besides, you know how it is—cats go missing all the time. But they always come back.”

I didn’t enjoy my own line being quoted back to me, and I grimaced at this.

“And it’s not as if Chouchou is the only cat that’s gone missing lately. In fact I know of at least half a dozen who’ve suddenly disappeared. But do I look worried?”

Dooley studied Kingman closely.“You don’t look worried, Kingman,” he determined.

“And that’s because I’m not worried! Because cats always land on their feet!”

“So you have no idea where she could be?” I asked, not hiding my sense of disappointment. Usually Kingman is a fount of information, but today he was more like a fount of frustration, with his pleas to let Wilbur Vickery and Father Reilly back on the neighborhood watch, something I was pretty sure Gran would be dead set against.

“Sorry, fellas,” said Kingman as his eyes wandered in the direction of a petite Siamese who’d come walking along. “Can’t help you.” And it was clear our audience with our town’s feline mayor was at an end when he called out, “Trixie! Long time no see!”

So we decided to move on and soon were treated to a rare sight: our very own human, putting up flyers on lampposts, depicting the very cat we were looking for.

Chapter 3

Odelia had decided that the best thing she could do was to print out some flyers of Mrs. Bunyon’s missing cat and distribute these around Hampton Cove. And she’d just started doing this when she came upon her grandmother, who was sipping her usual hot cocoa in the outside dining area of the Star hotel, along with her friend Scarlett Canyon.

“I’ve got a job for you, Gran,” said Odelia as she placed a little stack of flyers in front of both ladies. “A cat’s gone missing, and I want you to put up these flyers for me.”

“Missing cat?” asked Gran with a frown as she glanced at the flyer. “I’m sorry, honey,” she promptly added as she handed the little stack back. “The watch doesn’t do missing cats.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Of course I’m serious. The watch takes care of the big stuff—serious crime—hardened criminals. Missing cats is not something we’ve got time for, I’m afraid.”

“Vesta, we could look into this one missing cat for Odelia,” said Scarlett, who was dressed to the nines in a nice little floral top, her red hair done up and her makeup tastefully applied. “I mean, it’s not like we’ve got anything else going on at the moment.”

“No, but we could have something else going on soon, and if we’re locked into this cat business we won’t have time for the other, more important stuff, now would we?”

“Just… do it already, will you?” said Odelia, who didn’t want to waste time standing around arguing with her recalcitrant grandmother.

And she placed the flyers in Scarlett’s hands, who took them gratefully, and said, “Don’t you worry about a thing, honey. We’ll take care of this for you.”

“Scarlett!” said Gran. “What are you doing?”

“Missing cats are part of the watch’s mission statement, or didn’t you get the memo?”

“What memo? What mission statement?”

Scarlett grinned.“Okay, so there’s no memo, but I think finding missing pets definitely should be part of our mission statement.”

“Oh, all right,” Gran grumbled. “But if the big one hits and we’re too busy looking for this… Chouchou of yours, I’m going to blame you.”

Just then, Max and Dooley came trotting up.“We just talked to Kingman,” said Dooley, “and he says at least half a dozen cats have gone missing, but he’s not worried, because cats always land on their feet.”

“Half a dozen cats?” said Odelia.

“What did he say?” asked Scarlett.

“That more cats have gone missing,” said Gran.

“At least half a dozen,” Dooley reiterated. “But he’s not worried and so neither should we. Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Absolutely,” said Max, though the large blorange cat did look slightly worried.

“Kingman thinks that these missing cats went on a toot and they’ll be back soon.”

“Cats don’t go on toots,” said Odelia with a frown.

“What did he say?” asked Scarlett, trying to read Dooley’s lips and failing.

“That Kingman says the missing cats have gone on a toot.”

“Do cats go on toots?”

“No, they don’t. Cats don’t drink,” said Gran. “So correct me if I’m wrong, but if half a dozen cats have gone missing, shouldn’t the police be out looking for them?”

“The police aren’t interested in missing cats,” said Scarlett. “They’ve got better things to do—just like you, by the way, Vesta.”

Gran had the decency to pull a remorseful face.“Okay, so maybe you were right.”

“Can you please repeat that?” asked Scarlett, placing her hand to her ear.

“You were right, all right?!”

“This is a momentous occasion,” said Scarlett, giving Odelia a wink. “Vesta Muffin admitting she was wrong.”

“I didn’t say I was wrong. I just said you were right. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, and Kingman says Wilbur and Father Reilly want to rejoin the watch,” said Max.

“No way in hell,” Gran growled.

“What did he say?” asked Scarlett, starting to look a little frustrated.

“Wilbur and Francis want back on the watch.”

“No way in hell,” said Scarlett, a rare frown marring her smooth brow.

“That’s what I said!”

“So what do you want us to do?” asked Max. “About Chouchou, I mean?”

“I want you to keep looking,” Odelia instructed. “Meanwhile I’ll drop by the police station and see if they’ve received any of these missing cats reports. If they all went missing around the same time we just might have a catnapper on our hands.”

“A catnapper!” Dooley cried.

“Better ask the people from the shelter, too,” said Gran. “They may have hired some overzealous newbie, who goes around picking up any and all pets that are roaming free.”

“But I don’t want to be napped!” said Dooley, much disturbed. “I don’t think I’d like it.”

“You’re not going to get napped, Dooley,” said Max reassuringly. Then, turning to Odelia, he added, “We’re on the case. If those cats were nabbed, we’ll find them for you.”

Gran shook her head.“People kidnapping cats. What is the world coming to?”

Chapter 4

Dooley and I decided to go a little farther afield. We’d already covered the downtown area, and since Odelia was taking charge there, along with Gran and Scarlett, it didn’t seem necessary for us to stick around. Instead I decided to follow a crazy hunch: our primary source of information might be Kingman, but we had more contacts we hadn’t yet exhausted. And one of those contacts was our old friend Clarice.

“Maybe we can ask Clarice?” said Dooley now, obviously on the same wavelength.

“And how do you figure that?”

“Well, if Chouchou and those other missing cats would have stayed around the downtown area, Kingman would have seen them, wouldn’t he? And so maybe they’ve gone to the woods, and if anyone knows those woods like the back of her paw, it’s Clarice.”

I smiled. It’s always nice to see your own ideas reflected in the cats closest to you. So I patted my friend on the back, and said, “Let’s go pay a visit to Clarice, then.”

“But… where will we find her, Max?”

Now that’s one of those problems facing any cat looking for our feral friend: Clarice is one of those cats that don’t have a fixed abode. Whenever we need to talk to Kingman, we always know where to find him, and the same goes for our other friends. Clarice, on the other hand, likes to roam wild and free, and since like most cats she doesn’t have a cell phone, it can be tough to pin her down.

“Let’s start with the back alleys,” I said therefore, since Clarice doesn’t like to depend on a human for her nourishment, and does her hunting and gathering all by herself.

And so we proceeded in the direction of those back alleys that Clarice likes to prowl, looking for her meal of the day.

The first alley was a bust, and so was the second one, but when we passed through the third alley, we hit pay dirt.

“Don’t tell me you guys are looking for a bite to eat,” said Clarice when we found her underneath a nearby dumpster.

“Clarice!” I said with a start. That cat never ceases to startle me.

“We’re not looking for food,” said Dooley. “We’re looking for Chouchou and the others.”

“Who’s Chouchou and the others?” asked Clarice. “Some new girl band?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “Chouchou is a Maine Coon, and she’s recently gone missing, and so have a couple of other cats.”

“Missing, huh?” said Clarice, emerging from underneath the dumpster. She started to lick her claws with customary languidness. But don’t let her seemingly laidback air fool you: she can lash out as quick as a cobra, and her nails are amongst the sharpest I’ve ever seen. Good thing she never uses them on us—and I hope she never will!

“Yeah, a woman came into Odelia’s office this morning,” I explained, “asking her to find her Maine Coon for her. Chouchou went to cat choir last night but never came home.”

“I always knew cat choir was bad business,” Clarice growled. As usual, she looked a little wild. Her mottled fur was missing in patches, and there was a fresh scratch across her nose that hadn’t been there the last time I saw her.

“I don’t think cat choir is to blame for Chouchou’s disappearance,” I said, not wanting her to get the wrong idea.

“Stay away from crowded places,” Clarice advised somberly. “That’s where you stand the most chance of being infected.”

“Infected by what, Clarice?” asked Dooley, interested in this novel theory.

“Anything! Any bug that goes around will focus on the places where plenty of cats are gathering, jump over on you the moment you set paw in those surroundings and zap!”

“Zap!” Dooley cried, jumping a foot in the air.

“It’ll hit you so fast you don’t even notice before it’s too late.”

“But… do you think Chouchou and the others got zapped by a bug?”

“Sure! They’re probably dying in some corner right now, suffering terrible pains and dying a horrible and prolonged death. That’s what you get from going to cat choir.”

Dooley gave me a look of shock, but I shook my head, wanting to convey the message that things probably weren’t as bad as Clarice was making them out to be. Clarice, on top of being something of an einzelg?nger, is also a worrywart, and seems to think that the worst thing that can happen to a cat is meeting other cats in large gatherings.

“Look, can you help us or not?” I asked. Even though I always enjoy seeing Clarice, long moments spent in her company have a tendency to depress me, her world views not exactly the most uplifting ones.

“Sure I’ll help you find them,” said Clarice, “but I’m not sure if Dooley should join us.”

“Why not?” asked Dooley, blinking rapidly.

“Because when we do find them the sight will be a pretty horrible one.”

“I’m sure it won’t be as bad as all that,” I countered.

“And I’m sure it will be. Have you ever watched The Walking dead, Dooley?”

“Um… I don’t think so,” said Dooley. “Is that on the Discovery Channel?”

“No, it’s not on the Discovery Channel,” said Clarice. “The Walking Dead is a documentary about what happens when a deadly virus affects the world’s population, and turns humans into these disgusting, monstrous, homicidal, flesh-eating—”

“It’s not really a documentary, though, is it?” I said quickly. “It’s fiction, Clarice.”

“It could be real.”

“But it isn’t.”

“But it could be.”

“Okay, so let’s just find Chouchou and the others, shall we?” I suggested, tiring a little of this talk of flesh-eating whatevers.

“Suit yourself,” said Clarice with a shrug. “But when we find them, and Dooley is traumatized for the rest of his life, don’t blame me, all right?”

“I won’t blame you, Clarice,” I said.

And so we set out for the woods, in Clarice’s wake. I have to hand it to her: if anyone can find a cat, whether dead or alive… or even undead, I guess—it’s her. She’s simply more in touch with her wild side than us pampered cats—Clarice’s words, not mine!

It didn’t take us long to arrive at the outskirts of town and enter the woods that Clarice calls home, and soon we found ourselves at the little cabin in the woods where many an aspiring or even unaspiring writer likes to spend time working on their next masterpiece. It’s called the Writer’s Lodge, and provides a secluded spot where writers work on their craft in peace and absolute quiet. And while they’re at it, they enjoy the distraction of seeing Clarice roam around, keeping them company, and never cease to provide her with those precious little nuggets of food your hungry feline enjoys so much.

“Do you think they’re around here somewhere?” I asked, a little breathless, for we’d traveled uphill for the past half hour or so.

“No idea,” said Clarice, “but the dumpsters proved a bust today, and I’m starving.”

She made a beeline for a battered bowl, and when we arrived thither, I saw that it was filled to the brim with what looked like… liver p?t?.

“Ugh,” she said, making a face. “Liver p?t?. Again.”

Liver p?t? is one of those things every cat considers a delicacy, and gobbles up without delay when given the chance, so Dooley and I gave our feral friend a look of surprise.

“You don’t like liver p?t??” I asked.

“Well, you know how it is,” she said. “When you have to eat the same thing every day it quickly loses its attraction.” Nevertheless, she still dug in and manfully ate it all.

Dooley and I shared a startled look. Odelia is probably the best human for miles around—perhaps even the best human a cat can hope to find in the whole world, but even she doesn’t give us liver p?t? on a daily basis.

“You eat this stuff every day?” I asked.

She licked her lips.“Oh, sure. James Patterson is staying at the Lodge this month, and he’s always generous with the liver p?t?, bless his heart. Last month John Grisham was here, working on his next bestseller, and with him it’s always beluga caviar.” She sighed. “And then next month Danielle Steel will be here, and I already know it’ll be lobster sushi rolls again, just like last year. Can you imagine? Three weeks of lobster sushi rolls?”

I would give my right paw for three weeks of lobster sushi rolls, or beluga caviar.

“I like liver p?t?,” said Dooley. He gave Clarice a hopeful look. “Can I have some?”

She smiled.“Oops, sorry. I’m afraid I ate it all.”

We both took in Clarice’s skinny frame, and were probably wondering the same thing: for a cat who eats liver p?t?, beluga caviar and lobster sushi rolls on a continuous basis, not to mention the contents of half the dumpsters in Hampton Cove, how did she manage to stay so thin?

“Okay, let’s go,” she said now. “Or don’t you want to find this choo-choo of yours?”

“Chouchou,” I corrected.

And then we were off again. I was a little troubled by the lack of sustenance. You see, I’m not as skinny as Clarice, and us full-bodied, big-boned types need our intake of food at regular intervals. And if my calculations were correct it had been at least three hours since I’d last had a bite to eat and I was starting to feel a little faint. Still, we’d promised Odelia we’d find those missing cats for her and that’s what we’d do.

And as we traipsed after Clarice, deeper into those woods, Dooley whispered,“Couldn’t she at least have left some for us, Max?”

“Apparently not,” I whispered back.

“I heard that!” Clarice growled.

We followed her up what looked like some kind of mountain trail, and soon had left civilization behind, an area where no man or beast dares to tread, and before long I was starting to question the wisdom of this mission. What if we encountered some wild animal preying on innocent and soft-bellied cats like myself? Then again, we were in the company ofthe wild animal, and as far as I could tell no other wild animal would come anywhere near Clarice.

“I think I’ve got the trail,” suddenly Clarice declared. She put her nose to the ground and was sniffling freely.

“You have?” I asked, surprised. I put my nose to the ground, too, but all I got was a noseful of the musty scent of decaying leaves and moss.

“Cats have definitely been through here,” she grunted. “Let’s keep going.”

“Clarice is pretty amazing, isn’t she, Max?” said Dooley admiringly.

“She is,” I confirmed. She might have fooled us all into thinking that all these years she’d been feeding on rats and mice while actually enjoying a steady diet of the most delicious and expensive food known to man, but she did have a good nose on her, that much was definitely true.

We were in a part of the woods where the brush was thick on the ground, and brambles were thick on the brush, and suddenly Clarice halted, her tail in the air and her ears pricking up.“We’re close!” she declared excitedly. “We’re definitely close, you guys.”

“Oh, dear, oh, dear,” I said, feeling her excitement rubbing off on me, too. I just hoped we wouldn’t find Chouchou and the others dead or dying—or even undead!

And then suddenly we arrived in a clearing, and lo and behold: five cats were sitting there, looking at us with fear written all over their features, hugging each other close, and shivering freely!

“Don’t hurt us!” said one of the cats, a very hairy Maine Coon. “Please don’t hurt us!”

Chapter 5

The cats all looked pretty bedraggled—and also pretty scared.

“We come in peace,” I said therefore, holding out my paws in a peaceable gesture.

“Are you the pussies that have gone missing?” asked Clarice, a lot less peaceable.

The Maine Coon, who seemed to be the spokescat of the bunch, blinked.“Max? Is that you?”

“Yep, it’s me,” I confirmed.

The cats all seemed to rejoice at this.“It’s Max!” said one of the others.

“We’re saved!”

“Actually it’s Clarice who found you,” I said, pointing to our feral friend.

They all stared at Clarice for a moment, then back to me. “Oh, Max, thank you for saving us!” said the Maine Coon, whom I assumed was the Chouchou we’d been looking for.

“Always the same story,” Clarice grunted. “No recognition for the star of the show.”

“Is your name Chouchou?” asked Dooley, approaching the small group.

“Dooley!” said the cat. “Am I happy to see you!”

“And I’m happy to see you!” said Dooley.

“Yes, my name is Chouchou.” She lowered her lashes. “I didn’t realize you knew who I was.”

“Well, I don’t,” Dooley was quick to explain. “But you fit your description.”

“Your human is out looking for you,” I said. “And she’s asked us to lead the search. Or actually she’s asked our human, and our human asked us, and we asked Clarice here.”

“Is your human Odelia Poole, by any chance?” asked one of the other cats.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Odelia Poole!” a whisper rang out amongst the cats. “Odelia Poole tracked us down!”

“Actually I tracked you down,” said Clarice.

The cats gave her a moment’s attention, then resumed with their cries of “Odelia Poole saved our lives!”

“I’m getting out of here,” Clarice growled, and started to leave.

“No, wait!” I said. “You have to lead us back!”

“Oh, for crying out loud. Don’t tell me you can’t find your way back.”

“Well,” I said, glancing around a little uncertainly. “You did lead us very deep into these woods.”

“Do you think there are bears in these woods, Clarice?” asked Dooley.

“No, there are no bears in these woods,” said Clarice with an exaggerated sigh.

“Or wolves?”

“No wolves!”

“Let’s get you back home, you guys,” I told the five cats. “But first tell us what happened. How did you get all the way out here?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly what happened,” said Chouchou. “I was walking along, after leaving cat choir, when suddenly a car stopped in my immediate rear, and a bag was thrown over my head. I was dumped in the trunk of the car and then brought out here.”

“Same here,” said one of the other cats. “I was put in a bag and then dumped here.”

“Same thing for me,” the other cats all chimed in, one after the other.

“So… you were all catnapped?” I asked with a frown. This was serious business.

“Yeah, looks like,” Chouchou confirmed.

“And you have no idea who catnapped you?”

Chouchou shook her head.“I would have smelled who it was, but I have a cold, so my nose is blocked. I think it was a man, though, but I can’t be absolutely sure.”

“That narrows it down,” said Clarice, who clearly hadn’t taken to these cats to a great extent.

“I did see someone dig a hole,” said one of the other cats.

“Dig a hole?” I asked. “What kind of hole?”

“Just a regular hole,” said the cat with a shrug. “You know, like, a hole?”

“Can you show us this hole?” I asked. This was a disturbing development. Humans usually don’t go around digging holes in woods, unless it is for the purpose of burying things. And if this was the same person who’d been catnapping these cats, the only thing I could think of that he might have buried was… another cat!

The cat led the way to a nearby spot, where indeed the earth had been disturbed, a clear sign that someone had been rooting around there with the assistance of a spade.

“Was this the same person who kidnapped you?” I asked as we all stood around the spot. It even smelled of freshly disturbed earth—and worms, of course.

“I don’t know,” said the cat who’d witnessed the digging. “I didn’t dare to come close enough to get a good smell of the person.”

“What did they look like?”

The cat merely shrugged.“Like any human. You know. With hair on top of a large head, a nose in the middle of a round face, two eyes and ears, and standing on two legs.”

“Really narrows it down,” Clarice muttered.

I took a sniff at the recently disturbed soil, and indeed detected a whiff of human.

“Do you want to dig?” asked Clarice. “Cause if you want to dig, go right ahead, but I’m not going to dig. No way.”

I hesitated.“Do you think this person might have buried…” I cut a quick glance to Dooley, who stood eyeing me with wide-eyed concentration, “…something here?”

Clarice also took a sniff, then said with a frown.“All I can smell is human, not cat, so whatever is buried here is definitely not of a feline nature.”

“Phew,” said Chouchou. “For a moment there I thought our catnapper was also a cat killer.”

“A cat killer!” Dooley cried.

“Not a cat killer, Dooley,” I said. “The emphasis is onnot.”

“But then what did he bury, Max?”

“I don’t know, Dooley,” I said. “

Why would a human head so deep into the woods, dump a couple of cats, then dig a hole? Assuming, of course, that this was the same person. It could very well have been two different people. At any rate, it all seemed very strange indeed. Now we all know that humans are a little strange, and that sometimes they do things for no discernible reason. But still, even by human standards this behavior was way out there.

But since I felt that our mission was completed, I decided that it was time to stage the happy reunion between Chouchou and Mrs. Kathleen Bunyon, so we gave a reluctant Clarice the go-ahead to act as our guide once more, and all eight of us made our way out of the woods, and consequently back to civilization. And when finally we arrived on the outskirts of town, we were all famished—except, of course, Clarice.

“This is where I leave you,” she said. “You can find your way home now, right?”

“Thank you so much, Clarice,” I said. “You did a good thing today.”

She eyed the five cats a little bleakly, and grumbled,“I’m not so sure about that.”

And before I could say any more, she suddenly disappeared into the undergrowth, presumably to see if James Patterson had found some more liver p?t? he had no use for.

Chapter 6

Odelia felt happy that she was finally in a position to bring a ray of sunshine into a person’s life. And that was exactly what she anticipated to do just now, as she parked her car outside the home of the Bunyons, their precious fur baby in the backseat next to Max and Dooley, who were as proud as she was feeling that they’d made the impossible possible: in the space of only a couple of hours they’d found the missing cat and were about to deliver the missing Chouchou back to her proud owners.

“Great job, you guys,” said Odelia, not for the first time. “I’m pretty sure you just broke some kind of sleuthing record. I’ll have to call the Guinness Book of Records.”

“It wasn’t really us,” said Max deferentially.

“Yeah, Clarice did most of the work,” said Dooley.

“Who’s Clarice?” asked Chouchou.

“The scary cat who was with us when we found you,” Max explained.

“Oh, right,” said Chouchou, but clearly had no idea what he was talking about.

“This is a great day,” said Odelia, “and even though I can’t tell the Bunyons about the exact role you played in finding Chouchou, I’ll make sure they know you were involved.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” said Max. “I understand that you need to keep Mrs. Bunyon in the dark about us.”

“No, but I will tell her that you’re actually the ones who found Chouchou.” She turned to the Maine Coon. “Can you tell me again how you got out there?”

“Well, first I was snatched,” said Chouchou, “by some terrible catnapper person, and then I was put in a large bag, and then I was left in those woods to fend for myself.”

“That’s so terrible,” said Odelia feelingly. “Absolutely awful, Chouchou.”

“And then there was another person—or it could have been the same person—who was digging a hole and burying something.”

“I won’t tell Mrs. Bunyon about that,” said Odelia. “She might start to worry, and we don’t want her to worry unnecessarily.”

They all got out of the car, and Odelia rang the bell, instructing Chouchou to hide behind her for a moment, to make the surprise even bigger, and therefore the subsequent relief.“I want you to pay attention to the look on her face,” said Odelia with a smile. She felt a little like Santa Claus bringing tidings of joy and good cheer, and a bag full of presents.

The door opened, and a man appeared. He blankly stared at Odelia.“Yes?” he said.

“Mr. Bunyon?”

“Uh-huh. That’s me.”

“My name is Odelia Poole and your wife dropped by my office this morning, to ask me to look for your missing cat Chouchou?”

“Oh,” said the man blinkingly. “She did?”

“Yes, sir. And I’m happy to announce that I was successful, and I’ve found your precious baby for you.” And with these words, she stepped aside, and revealed Chouchou’s presence to Mr. Bunyon, her proud and happy owner. She didn’t exactly say ‘Ta-daaah,’ but the meaning was clear inher gesture.

But if she’d expected the man to yip with joy, she was disappointed. Rather than yip, he merely goggled at Chouchou, an expression on his face that was hard to read. It could have been stunned surprise, or it could have been dismay. “You did what now?” he said.

“Well, I found her,” said Odelia, then glanced down at Chouchou, then up at Mr. Bunyon again. “This is your cat, isn’t it?”

“Um…” said the man, and for a moment he seemed on the verge of denying being even faintly acquainted with Chouchou.

But then Kathleen Bunyon suddenly appeared in the door.“Who is it, Karl? Oh, hi, Miss Poole—Chouchou!” she screamed, and contrary to her husband she did seem overjoyed by this sudden re-emergence into her life of her precious pet. “Oh, my sweet, sweet, sweet little…” She picked Chouchou up and hugged her with extreme fervor.

Odelia watched the scene with a sense of relief, and a big smile on her face.

“Oh, Miss Poole—you found her!”

“Actually,” she said, launching into her rehearsed spiel, “my cats found her. Max and Dooley? Come here a moment, will you?”

Max and Dooley stepped into the limelight, and basked in the gratitude of Mrs. Bunyon.“Oh, you found my sweet, precious baby!” she said. “This is a miracle! Isn’t this a miracle, Karl?”

“Yeah, a real miracle,” Karl muttered, though he continued to look not too well pleased by the return of the prodigal daughter to the bosom of his family.

“Where did you find her?” asked Kathleen.

“In the woods just outside of town,” said Odelia. “Deep in the woods, in fact.”

“In the woods! How did you end up in the woods?” asked Kathleen. “You were probably playing with your friends, weren’t you?” She squeezed her precious Maine Coon some more, even going so far as to press a loving kiss to Chouchou’s furry and puckered brow, causing her husband to visibly wince. “You probably lost track of time and before you knew what happened you had lost your way.”

“Well, you know what cats are like,” said Odelia, who didn’t want to trouble the woman with the whole disturbing story if it wasn’t necessary. “Though if I were you I’d keep her inside for the next couple of days. Make sure she doesn’t run off again.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” said Kathleen. “I won’t let her out of my sight for even one second! Now that I have her back, she isn’t going anywhere!”

“Thank you, Miss Poole,” intoned Karl Bunyon curtly, then carefully closed the door, ending this episode in Odelia’s life—at least for now.

Chapter 7

Chouchou having been delivered into the arms of her loving human—or at least one loving human, Odelia decided to take us back to where we’d found Chouchou and the others, and to look for that place where digging had been going on. Frankly, she was as intrigued by this digging thing as we were, and to show us she meant business, she brought her husband along.

Chase Kingsley, if you didn’t know, is a local cop, and looks like a prizefighter. So with him by our side I have to say I wasn’t the least bit worried about what might happen if we encountered the person who’d catnapped those cats, and had engaged in a little digging to while away the time. The man is built like a brick outhouse, if you’re familiar with the expression, and even though my sense of direction perhaps isn’t as keen as Clarice’s, and neither is Dooley’s, we managed to lead our two humans to the right spot.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Chase when we got there. They say the proof is in the pudding, and since Chase had been skeptical about the story, this time the proof was in the digging. Chase had brought a spade, and so had Odelia, and before long the two of them were digging to their heart’scontent, really putting their backs into it.

“I think I’ve got something,” said Odelia suddenly.

“Gold!” said Dooley excitedly. “I think it’s a treasure, Max.”

“Why would anyone kidnap five cats and then bury a treasure in the woods?” I asked.

That had him stumped, and so we simply waited with bated breath to see what exactly, if anything, was buried there.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Odelia murmured as she carefully removed some of the overturned earth and deposited it next to the hole she and Chase had succeeded in digging now.

“It’s a person,” suddenly Chase announced.

“A person!” Dooley cried. He looked at me, as if wanting answers and wanting them now. I couldn’t give him any, of course, apart from an equally stunned look in return.

“I’ve got feet,” Odelia announced.

“And I’ve got a head,” Chase grunted, and suddenly as the full picture became clear, I discovered that they were right: a person was buried there, not a cat.

“Do you think it’s adead person, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Um… I think so, Dooley,” I said. “I’m not an expert but usually when people have been buried underground for a while, that means they’re dead. Goes with the territory.”

“Oh, dear,” said Dooley, taking the words right out of Odelia’s mouth.

We looked on as Chase removed some of the dirt from the person’s face, and we now saw that it was a bearded person.

“I think it’s a man, Max,” said Dooley in a breathless whisper.

“Unless it’s a bearded woman,” I suggested, trying to keep the atmosphere light and pleasant. We were, after all, in the middle of the woods, and a murderer had apparently engaged not only in the kidnapping of cats, but also in the unlawful snuffing out of the life of another human being. Notexactly the best circumstances to find ourselves in!

“Does he look familiar?” asked Odelia as they both studied the person’s face.

“Not… exactly,” said Chase as he shot a couple of pictures, perhaps to post on his Facebook.

“He looks like a bum,” said Dooley after a moment’s consideration.

And I could see why he would think that. The man was raggedly dressed, and had a soiled face, though that could be because of the being buried thing, of course.

“He does look like a homeless person,” Odelia agreed.

“I better call it in,” said Chase, and stepped back to place a phone call to the precinct.

“How about that?” said Odelia as she placed her spade against a nearby tree, and cut a questioning look in our direction. “You do realize people will want to know how I came to find this guy out here,” she said.

“You could tell them you followed your cats’ trail into the woods, where not only did you find Chouchou and the other missing cats, but also this dead person,” I told her.

“And here I thought this was going to be one of those uneventful days.”

“Think again.”

“So… why would a person kidnap five cats and then bury a body in the woods, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Now that,” said Odelia, “is exactly what I’d like to know.”

“We’re not sure this is the same person,” I said. “Could be just a coincidence.”

Within a reasonably short time of Chase‘calling it in,’ the place was crawling with cops and crime scene people, and Dooley and I were forced to take a backseat. When Odelia finally turned to join us, she announced, “Yeah, he’s definitely been murdered. Shot through the head with what looks like a .38 caliber firearm if you please.”

“Shot!” I cried. I don’t know why I was surprised. If a person takes the time to bury a body in the woods, it’s highly unlikely that the victim died of natural causes.

Odelia nodded as she took in the strenuous activity surrounding the burial site of the dead man.

“And who is he?” asked Dooley.

“We don’t know, Dooley,” said Odelia. “He had no ID on him. No wallet, no phone, not a slip of paper. They’ll take his fingerprints, of course, and see if he’s in the system.”

“What system is that?”

“The police database.”

“Is everybody in the police database?”

“Only if you’ve ever had a brush with the law,” Odelia explained.

“And if he hasn’t?”

Odelia shrugged.“Then it looks like we’re dealing with a John Doe.”

“Oh, so you do know his name.”

“A John Doe is just a name for a person whose identity is unknown,” I explained for my friend’s information.

“So his name isn’t really Mr. Doe?”

“No,” said Odelia. “His name isn’t really John Doe. One thing we do know. This is a man who’s lived rough for a long time. He definitely shows signs of having lived life on the street for at least a number of years.”

“So he is a bum?” asked Dooley.

Odelia smiled a tight smile.“Yes, Dooley. Looks like our John Doe is a bum.”

Chapter 8

While the police handled the investigation into the mysterious death of a homeless person, it was back to our regular lives for us cats. Important things had been happening at the home of Marge and Tex, Odelia’s parents, and it was time we pulled our attention from recent events as they’d unfolded, and returned it to what was really important, namely the picking of the right kitchen design for Tex and Marge’s new kitchen.

The old kitchen had been there since Odelia’s folks had bought that house many years ago, and Gran had felt for a long time that it was time to retire it and put in a new one, and that she had to have the last word when it came to picking the new design. Marge, of course, felt differently, and so did Tex, and that was where matters now stood.

Our humans had at least agreed on one thing: where to buy the kitchen, and so we found ourselves in the showroom of Kramer Kitchen Kreation, the company owned by Fred Kramer, also known as the Kitchen King, faced with an impossible choice.

“So many kitchens, Max!” Dooley said with words of hushed awe.

He was right. I don’t think I’d ever seen so many kitchens in the same room, and a big room it was, too. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to reconstruct dozens of different kitchens in one big showroom, and plenty of people were milling about, potential customers all in the same position as our own humans: faced with the near impossible task of picking just one of these gorgeous kitchens.

“Look, it’s very simple,” said Gran. “Just give me carte blanche and I’ll pick the right kitchen for us. In fact I’ve picked the right kitchen already, so you really don’t have to bother anymore.” She smiled, and added the magic words: “Trust me!”

Magic in the sense that they worked on Tex like a red rag on a bull.

“And how much is this going to cost me?” asked the good doctor as he eyed his mother-in-law with an expression that betrayed his lack of trust in her judgment.

“Oh, not that much,” said Gran. “In fact it’s a real bargain, if you ask me.”

“This is my kitchen as well as yours, Ma,” said Marge, glancing around and looking for a salesperson. “So excuse me if I’m going to have the final say in this.”

“And since I’m the one who’ll have to pay,” said Tex, “excuseme for having final say.”

A salesperson had come charging to, and he must have realized he had a couple of real buyers before him, and not just window shoppers, for he displayed the wide smile your real salesman likes to display when he’s about to make a killing. “Excellent choice,” he said, as he nodded at the kitchen we just happened to be standing in. It was all dark wood and gleaming new appliances, and wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Nancy Meyers movie, preferably starring either Diane Keaton or Meryl Streep.

“We’re not buying this,” said Tex immediately. He’d taken a gander at the price tag which was displayed on a stand near the entrance, and there was a finality to his voice that told of his reluctance to pay through the nose for what he considered an exercise in futility. Tex had long arguedthat they didn’t need a new kitchen, that the old one was perfectly fine, that it had at least another fifteen years left in the tank, and he wasn’t budging from this point of view, juxtaposed with that of his wife and mother-in-law.

“So what did you folks have in mind?” asked the salesman, smile still firmly in place.

“Why is he smiling like that, Max?” asked Dooley, who’d been studying the man like one studies an animal at the zoo.

“Because your true salesperson believes that a smile allays some of that sales resistance,” I explained. “A smile says: I have absolute faith in your ability and your willingness to pull your wallet and hand me your credit card so I can swipe it.”

“Tex doesn’t look like he’s ready to pull his wallet.”

“No, he certainly does not.”

In fact Tex looked like he was ready to pull a gun on the salesperson and make him go away, like a bad dream—or a highway robber.

“We want a new fridge,” Tex explained. It was one point on which he was willing to concede.

“We want a newkitchen,” Marge countered.

“We want the whole enchilada,” said Gran, rubbing her hands. “And in fact I already have the perfect combination in mind, picked from your website.” And to prove she wasn’t lying, she took out her phone and showed them the design she’d picked.

“Ma!” said Marge. “I told you I want light colors. Light and modern!”

“This is a timeless design,” said Gran.

“It looks like something from the forties!”

“The forties are coming back,” said Gran. “In a big way.”

“I suggest we sleep on it,” said Tex.

“And I suggest we pull the trigger,” said Gran.

Tex’s eyes narrowed, and his index finger twitched. It was clear he was definitely ready to pull the trigger—and then bury his mother-in-law in a shallow grave.

“Why don’t I show you folks some of our more contemporary designs?” the salesman suggested, proving his mettle by focusing on the most important person here: Marge.

And so for a while we moved from one kitchen installation to the next, while the salesman explained the ins and outs of every installation in great detail. And just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, the door opened and Harriet and Brutus walked in on the heels of more customers.

“What’s the situation?” our Persian friend asked.

“Tex doesn’t want to buy a kitchen, Marge wants something light and modern, and Gran wants something old and timeless,” I summed things up in a single sentence.

“I think Tex is probably right,” said Brutus. “Why spend money on a new kitchen when the old one is perfectly fine?”

“It isn’t fine,” I told him. “The wood is chipped and the fridge is broken and the whole thing looks like it’s seen better days.”

The butch black cat shrugged.“Looks all right to me.”

Just then, Gran caught sight of our newly arrived friends and came trotting over.“I need your help,” she told Harriet, then without further ado picked her up and carried her over to where she was duking it out with Tex and Marge. “I’ve got an idea!” she cried.

“Oh, my God,” said Tex.

“What is it?” asked Marge a little uncertainly.

“We’ll let a neutral party decide,” said Gran, and held up Harriet as if this was a scene from the Lion King and she was introducing the new king to the world.

“You’re going to let a cat decide what kitchen we choose?” asked Tex with a touch of incredulity.

“She has to live there, too, right? And everybody knows that cats have great taste.”

The salesperson, whose smile had fallen off his face by now—no one can train those facial muscles to keep working so hard for that long, not even a seasoned kitchen-hawking pro—glanced at Harriet, and nodded his acquiescence. “Why not?” he said.

In other words: if you people are crazy enough to trust the word of a cat, I’m perfectly willing to indulge you. Or also: never argue with a crazy old cat lady.

“So what will it be, Harriet?” asked Gran as she showed Harriet some of the designs they’d put aside. “Just pick a number—one to twelve—for the one you like best.”

“Seven,” Harriet said immediately, and placed her paw down on its corresponding design.

“Not that one!” Tex said, looking as fed up with this whole kitchen-choosing process as we were.

“I told you!” said Gran triumphantly. “Good job, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sure,” said Marge, wavering.

“Why not? It’s light, it’s modern—”

“And timeless,” the salesman interjected.

“It’s also the most expensive one of the bunch,” Tex added, an objection immediately brushed aside by his wife and poo-poohed by his mother-in-law.

The salesman was fully on board with the decision, for he was beaming again, and said,“Shall I wrap it up or are you going to have it here?” And laughed heartily at his own joke.

Chapter 9

We’d just arrived home when we came upon Odelia giving us a look of determination.

“What is it?” I said immediately.

“I have an idea, Max.”

“You have?”

“An idea to catch this catnapper of yours.”

“Well, he’s not my catnapper, per se,” I countered.

“It’s a foolproof plan,” she assured me.

Even through our recent kitchen saga, the thought of a person catnapping cats and murdering homeless people hadn’t been far from my mind. It was a very strange tale.

“We need to stop this person,” Odelia announced. “And also, if this is the same person who’s killed and buried our John Doe, he needs to be stopped before he kills more people.”

“Do you really think he’ll kill more people?” asked Dooley.

“I don’t know, Dooley. As long as we don’t know why he did what he did, we have no way of knowing what his next move will be.”

“So weird,” I murmured. “A man who kidnaps cats and murders homeless people then buries them in the woods for some reason.”

“It is a very strange business,” Odelia agreed. “So I’m going to run my idea by you.”

“Shoot,” I said, perhaps a little injudiciously, considering our John Doe had been killed with a firearm.

“I was thinking: why don’t you let yourselves be taken by this person, and that way we’ll know exactly who’s doing this, and we can catch him in the act.”

Both Dooley and I stared at our human in visible dismay.“We have to allow ourselves to be taken?” I asked, wanting to make sure I’d heard her right.

“You’d wear a tracker, of course,” she said, “and Chase and I will be close by, so that when you’re taken, we’re right on that catnapper’s heels.”

“Um… sure,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely convinced of their scheme. Don’t let my robust appearance fool you, I’m not exactly the world’s most courageous cat. Still, it seemed like a good plan, so I decided to go along with it.

“So what exactly is it we’re supposed to do, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Odelia is going to put a tracker on us,” I explained, “and so when we’re taken by the catnapper she’ll know exactly where we are at all times.”

He nodded intelligently, then said,“What is a tracker, Max?”

“A tracker is exactly what the word says, Dooley: it is a small device that tracks our every movement. In fact the full term is GPS tracker, and it sends a signal to a satellite, which sends the signal back to an app on Odelia’s phone pinpointing our exact location.”

“You mean like the GPS on Odelia’s car?”

“Exactly like the GPS on my car,” said Odelia with a reassuring smile. “That way whatever happens to you, Chase and I will know where you are, and we can come and save you.”

“And catch the catnapper,” I added, “which is what this is all about.”

“Since all five cats were taken in the same area and around the same time,” Odelia explained, “I think it’s best if you roam around that area around that time—assuming the catnapper hasn’t changed his MO—and hope he’ll take the bait.”

I nodded, seeing the soundness of her scheme.

“What do they say, babe?” asked Chase.

“They’re going to do it,” said Odelia.

Chase nodded.“Good boys,” he said, giving us both a pat on the head for our trouble. He’d crouched down so he was at eye level. Then suddenly, and completely out of the blue, he put a collar around my neck!

“What are you doing?” I asked, slightly alarmed. I trust Chase, of course I do, but no cat likes to be outfitted with a collar. I mean, we’re not dogs, okay?

“It’s the GPS tracker I was telling you about,” Odelia said.

“Oh, right,” I said, only mollified to a minor extent.

“Are you sure this is safe, Max?” asked Dooley as Chase repeated the procedure with my friend.

“Yeah, I’m sure it is,” I said, though to be perfectly honest I wasn’t entirely sure myself.

Harriet and Brutus had entered the house through the pet flap and now halted in their tracks when they caught sight of the recent additions to our costume.“Why are you wearing a collar, Max?” asked Harriet.

“It’s not a collar,” I told her. “It’s a GPS tracker.”

“We’re going to nab the nabber,” Dooley announced.

“Nab the nabber!” said Brutus. “And how are you going to do that?”

“You’re going to know exactly how they’re going to do that because you’re going to be nabbing that nabber along with your friends,” said Odelia. And before Brutus and Harriet knew what was happening they, too, had both been outfitted with tracking devices!

Harriet blinked and said, in a plaintive voice,“I don’t like the color. It doesn’t become me.”

“There isn’t much choice in tracking collars, unfortunately,” said Odelia. “So these will have to do I’m afraid. How do they feel?”

“Weird,” I said, grimacing and pulling at the collar.

“A little tight,” said Brutus in a tight voice.

“So if these give off a signal that transmits to a satellite,” said Dooley, “isn’t that dangerous? I mean, doesn’t that kind of thing give you cancer?”

“Don’t worry about that, Dooley,” said Odelia, getting slightly annoyed with all these objections to a plan that must have seemed perfect in her mind when she thought it up.

“So what’s going to happen now?” I asked.

“Now you’re going to walk around where the others were all taken,” said Odelia.

“And where is that?”

And as she told us where she was going to drop us off, and even was so kind to show it on a map on her phone, Harriet said in a low voice,“You guys, it’s the Bermuda triangle.”

“The Bermuda triangle?” asked Brutus.

“You know, the place where everything disappears.”

“Oh, right.” He produced a low chuckle. “It’s the Bermuda triangle of cats—the place where all cats disappear into thin air!”

“Oh, God,” I said, liking this whole endeavor less and less as time went on and the hour of putting ourselves in the path of this crazy nabber/killer drew closer and closer.

“Max?” said Dooley as Odelia and Chase talked the plan through a little more, “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t like it either, Dooley, but I’m sure it will be fine.”

“But we’re wearing a cancer-inducing collar, and Odelia is going to drop us right in the middle of the Bermuda triangle for cats. This is very dangerous, Max!”

“Just think of it this way, Dooley,” I said. “Soon we’ll have this catnapper behind bars, and then all cats of Hampton Cove can finally breathe a little easier again.”

He took a deep breath, then said in a small voice, “I just wish I could breathe a little easier now.”

Chapter 10

Marge was not in a good mood. Though she should have been in a great mood, she wasn’t, and it was all because of her mother. “Look, this is still my kitchen,” she said, “and I’m the one who has to pay for it, so I think it’s only reasonable that I’m the one who decides.”

“Excuse me, but I live here, too,” said Ma, “and also, I’m paying from my pension, so I have as much right to have the deciding vote as you have—if not more!”

Marge looked at the design her mother had chosen on the computer tablet, and shook her head.“I don’t like the cupboards,” she said finally. “They’re too small. My tableware is never going to fit. And besides, I always wanted a kitchen island.”

“So what?”

“So where is my kitchen island? There’s no kitchen island in this design.”

“If you want a kitchen island, Marge,” said Ma, sitting next to her at the computer in their cozy little living room, “you should get a bigger kitchen.” She threw up her hands. “There simply isn’t enough space for the kind of kitchen you want.”

Marge knew that her mother was right, of course, but she was loathe to admit it.“I’m sure that if we measure things again we can create enough space.”

“You can measure all you want, but as long as that measurer you have isn’t one that belongs to Harry Potter you’re not going to create more space, Marge. You knew when you bought this house that you were getting a small kitchen, an okay living room and a small sitting room.” She paused. “Though if you really want a bigger kitchen there is a solution.”

Hope surged in Marge’s bosom. She really had always wanted a bigger kitchen. In fact it was her main gripe ever since they’d moved into the place. “There is?”

“Of course. All you have to do is knock out a wall, or better yet, two walls.” She pointed to the living room walls. “If you knock out that wall, and that one, you create one big space. And then you’ll have an open kitchen, with kitchen island, and you’ll also have a lot more light in here.”

“You’re right,” she heard herself say.

Ma’s jaw dropped. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re absolutely right.”

Ma smiled a beatific smile, which was a rarity for her.“I’m glad to hear you say it.”

They should have done it a long time ago. The living room, which was located in the center of the ground floor, didn’t get any light at all, and the sitting room, where they didn’t spend all that much time, got all the light, as did the kitchen.

“How much is this going to cost, though?” she asked, immediately putting a damper on these ambitious plans.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Ma suggested.

“Tex is going to—”

“Tex will be happy as a clam! He wants this as much as we do. He just doesn’t want to pay for it, even though he can easily afford it.”

“It would mean remodeling the entire downstairs,” Marge pointed out.

“So? You only live once, Marge. And didn’t you tell me when you moved in that this was the original plan all along?”

“It was,” Marge admitted ruefully.

“So why not finally put it in motion?” Ma got up. “This is the way to go, honey, and you know it as well as I do. Now all you need to do is convince that Scrooge husband of yours to take out his checkbook and get this show on the road.”

“Where are you going?” she asked as Ma grabbed her purse from the table.

“Better don’t ask,” said her mother curtly.

“Better don’t ask what?”

“Exactly,” said Ma with a slight grin, then skedaddled before Marge could ask more.

“You’re not going to pull any crazy stunts, are you?!” she yelled after her aged but sprightly mother, but the only reply she got was the door being slammed shut. “Oh, dear,” she said, then glanced at that mockup on the screen again. It did look pretty wonderful, she thought, but only with the addition of a kitchen island. And bigger cupboards. And more of them, too. And maybe even a second kitchen island. And for once in her life she had to agree with her mom: if they could pull this off, they’d all be a lot happier, and could live a lot roomier. Now all that needed to be done was to convince Tex.

Chapter 11

We’d arrived at cat choir, and I have to admit I wasn’t feeling entirely sanguine about the plan Odelia had outlined. But she was right: what could possibly go wrong? Nothing!

Cat choir was where all the cats that had been taken had set out from, and from there they’d roamed around the downtown area, at which point they’d been taken, so this was the exact route and timetable we’d adhere to, hoping we’d get taken, too. Yikes!

“I just wish Clarice was here,” said Dooley. “She wouldn’t be scared like we are.”

“I’m not scared,” said Brutus, always the butch cat.

“You look scared.”

“Well, that’s just your imagination, Dooley,” said our friend. “Cause I’m not afraid of anything. In fact if you just stick close to me nothing will happen to you—I promise.”

“If you’re not afraid, Brutus,” said Dooley earnestly, “then why is your tail quivering?”

“My tail is quivering because I’m happy,” said Brutus, promptly tucking in his tail.

“Oh, just admit it, Brutus,” said Harriet, “you’re just as nervous as the rest of us.”

“I am not!” said Brutus, managing to sound indignant.

Cat choir was happening as it always does: in a boisterous way, with cats shooting the breeze, greeting each other as if they hadn’t seen each other in ages, even though we’d all met the night before, and some even that afternoon, like Kingman and us.

“What is that thing around your neck, Max?” asked that same Kingman now as he studied me intently.

“It’s a GPS tracker,” I said, and explained Odelia’s plan in great detail.

“A GPS tracker, huh?” he said, nodding. “Always wanted to get one of those myself, actually.”

“You did?”

“You never told us,” Harriet pointed out.

“Well, it’s just one of those cool hip things, isn’t it? In fact in this day and age of modern technology I think every cat should have a tracker. That way when something happens their owner can easily track them down. Isn’t that right, Shanille?”

Cat choir’s director had joined us, and was staring at Harriet’s collar. “Yeah,” she said after a moment’s pause. “Yeah, you’re absolutely right, Kingman.”

Harriet, who’d noticed that Shanille was eyeing her with a touch of envy, now thrust out her chest and lifted her chin, to make that tracker collar stand out even more. “Nice, isn’t it, Shanille? Top-of-the-line GPS tracker. It’s the latest fashion. With this cool little gizmo Odelia can find us anywhere, down to the inch. Isn’t that so, my precious angel?”

“Yeah, she can even hear what we say, and see what’s going on around us,” said Brutus.

“I don’t think she can,” I said, but Brutus quickly shut me up with a glance.

“Latest high-tech gadget,” said Harriet, shoving her collar in Shanille’s face. “All the It cats are wearing it these days. So where’s your tracker, Shanille?”

“I… don’t have one,” said Shanille, then added, “and I don’t need one. Father Reilly knows exactly where I am at all times. He doesn’t need a tracker to keep track of me.”

“Yeah, but what if you’re taken, like those other cats?” said Kingman. “A tracker would come in darn handy. In fact I think I’ll convince Wilbur to get me one of those.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Shanille sneered. “You’ll talk to him, will you?”

“I’ll ask Max to ask Odelia to tell Wilbur to get me one,” Kingman explained. “You’ll do me that little favor, won’t you, Max?”

“Oh, sure,” I said, suddenly feeling pretty cool with my brand-new tracker. We were all basking in the attention of a dozen cats now, all gaping at the nice gadgets around our necks, and I could tell they all wanted one. The story of those catnappings had spread through our community like wildfire, and the only thing standing between us and being left behind in the middle of the woods by a crazy catnapper, with not a bowl of kibble in sight, was this tracker, so it just stood to reason everybody now suddenly wanted one.

Cat choir proceeded as planned: we all sang our hearts out, and Harriet sang her solo, and when all was said and done, and we’d been subjected to our fair share of shoes being thrown in our direction by irate neighbors who had the misfortune of having bought a house that faced the park, we decided to follow the route the missing cats had taken, and place ourselves knowingly in harm’s way. Pretty counterintuitive, I know!

“Did you see the look on Shanille’s face?” said Harriet with a wide grin. “She couldn’t stop looking at my nice new tracker.”

“Oh, so now all of a sudden this doomsday device is a nice new tracker, is it?” I grumbled. Even though I, too, had enjoyed the sudden attention, I wasn’t used to a collar.

“You know what your problem is, Max?” said Harriet.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“You’re stuck in the past.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Stuck in the past! You have to move with the times, Max, if you don’t want to be left behind. These trackers are what it’s all about. In fact pretty soon I’m sure they’ll implant a chip in our necks that will act as a tracker and maybe even as a mini-computer!”

Dooley shivered.“A chip in our necks!”

“Some pets already have chips implanted in their necks,” I said, “but they’re not computers at all. They’re simply RFID devices. And all they tell you is the name of the pet, and the owner’s data, like their address and stuff. That way a lost pet can easily be traced to their owner, andreturned to same.”

“Well, in the future I’m sure these chips will be able to do a lot more,” said Harriet. “They’ll be implanted in our brains, and that way we can even surf the internet, or google stuff. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Now it was my turn to shiver.“I don’t want a chip in my brain, thank you very much,” I said. “I like my brain just the way it is!”

“I told you. You’re an old fogey, Max,” said Harriet with a slight grin. She glanced around with a frown. “Now where is that catnapper? I’ve got better things to do than to wander around here all night, you know.”

And as if her words had summoned the catnapper, suddenly a car pulled over, a door was opened, and before we knew what was happening, we were all grabbed by the scruff of our necks and stuffed into a large canvas bag!

Chapter 12

Being inside a canvas bag is not a fun experience. It’s cramped, it’s dark, and the fabric tickles your nostrils. So all in all I can tell you with conviction that I’m happy to be a cat and not a potato, for potatoes probably spend quite a large portion of their existence inside just such a bag—before being chopped up, boiled and eaten, a fate which I fervently hoped we’d escape!

“I don’t like this, Max,” said Dooley, cooped up inside that bag along with the rest of us.

“I don’t like it either, Dooley,” I admitted.

“When is Odelia going to save us?” asked Harriet, who didn’t sound entirely happy either.

“I don’t know,” I said, “but soon now. Very soon.”

“I hope she gets a move on,” said Brutus, whose voice was tooting in my ear, a clear sign he was right next to me. “Cause I’m starting to feel a little claustrophobic in here.”

“I’m sure she’s on the verge of pulling this guy over and saving us,” I said, more in an attempt to comfort myself than my fellow cats.

But the car was still hurtling on at a high rate of speed, and of our saviors there still was no sign. Finally the engine was cut and we rolled to a standstill. Moments later the bag was grabbed from wherever it had been dumped, and soon after we were released into the wild, the bag unceremoniously being relieved of its contents. And even as we got accustomed to our new surroundings, a big cloud of exhaust fumes drifted over us, and the car took off again, leaving us in what looked like the exact same place we’d been before, smack dab in the middle of the woods.

“So where’s Odelia?” asked Harriet, reiterating her earlier question. “Isn’t she supposed to save us and catch this catnapper? Wasn’t that the whole point of this pointless exercise!”

She sounded a little overwrought, and frankly I sympathized with the sentiment.

“I have no idea,” I said as we all glanced at the retreating taillights of the catnapper’s car as it disappeared from view.

“These trackers are useless,” said Brutus moodily. “Either they’re broken or Odelia and Chase fell asleep.”

“Or this guy slipped them a fast one,” said Harriet. “Whatever the case, we lost him.”

“I did smell the catnapper,” said Dooley suddenly. “I mean, I got a good whiff.”

“And what did you smell?” I asked.

“Well, he smelled exactly like Mrs. Bunyon,” said Dooley surprisingly.

“Mrs. Bunyon!”

“Yeah, didn’t you notice, Max? The bag, and the person who took us, they both smelled exactly like Mrs. Bunyon.”

I had to admit that I hadn’t paid any attention to any smells. I was frankly too panicky and way too nervous about being sliced and diced by what was obviously some crazy person to pay any attention to minor details like that.

“Are you sure, Dooley?” I asked therefore.

He nodded seriously.“Absolutely.”

And as if to add credence to his words, suddenly a loud lament sounded from the other side of the clearing where we’d been dumped: and before our very eyes, five more cats came walking up. They were the exact same cats we’d helped save that very morning, chief amongst whom was… Chouchou!

“Looks like they caught us again,” said Chouchou in somber tones, “only now I think I know who took us.”

“Who?” I asked.

“My very own human,” she said, sounding down in the dumps. Nor could I blame her. If I discovered that Odelia was my catnapper, and had decided to leave me in the middle of nowhere, presumably hoping never to see me again, I’d be a little disappointed, too!

“Where did they grab you?” I asked.

“Same place they took us yesterday,” said one of Chouchou’s friends. “We’d just left cat choir and were walking along Main Street, when suddenly a car pulled up, and we were all grabbed and put in a bag, then dumped in the trunk of a car.”

“How do you know it was the trunk?” Brutus asked, always interested in the telling detail.

“Because the wheel of the car was right next to my ear,” said the cat. “And the only place where the wheel is right next to your ears is either the trunk or next to the engine. But since there isn’t enough space next to the engine, it must have been the trunk.”

“I like your thinking,” Brutus agreed.

“We must have been in the backseat, then,” said Harriet. “Of the same car that picked you up, for I didn’t hear no wheels.”

“The catnapper is getting more brazen,” I said. “Escalating. Last night he took five cats and tonight he took nine. That’s…” I made a quick calculation in my head. “Almost twice as many. If this keeps up he’ll take over a dozen tomorrow night.”

“It’s not a he, though, is it?” said Harriet. “If Dooley and Chouchou are correct, the catnapper is a woman!”

“So… why would your human grab us and then dump us?” I asked.

“Because she doesn’t like cats,” said Chouchou sadly. “Even though I always thought she was crazy about me.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” I said, shaking my head.

“I think she secretly hoped I wouldn’t come back,” said Chouchou.

“But then why ask Odelia to go and find you?”

Chouchou shrugged, then sighed.“At least this time we’ll be able to find our way home again.” She eyed me hopefully. “You do know the way home, don’t you, Max?”

“Um…” I said, glancing around.

But lucky for us, just then Odelia’s car suddenly turned up out of nowhere, the headlights of the aged pickup she still likes to drive sweeping across the clearing. She and Chase got out, and she seemed almost frantic with worry as she hurried over to where we were holding our impromptu meeting.

“You guys!” she cried. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

“No, we’re fine,” I said.

“We might be suffering from PTSD after being stuck inside a bag, though,” said Harriet, giving Odelia a not-so-happy look.

“I’m so, so sorry! By the time we realized what was going on, you were already traveling fifty miles an hour in this direction!”

“Bastard gave us the slip,” Chase grunted, looking disappointed.

“Well, at least we know who it is,” I said, and saw how Odelia’s worried expression morphed into one of suspense.

“Who? Who did this to you?”

“Mrs. Bunyon,” Dooley announced. “I clearly smelled her.”

“Me, too,” said Chouchou. She sighed. “My own human wants to get rid of me—can you imagine a sadder thing?”

Chapter 13

“So what is it you wanted to do?” asked Scarlett. The two neighborhood watch members were watching how Scarlett’s grandnephew was tapping on his laptop, pulling up weird-looking data on the screen and generally doing all kinds of complicated things. They were in the living room of the Poole residence, Marge and Tex having gone to bed.

“Don’t you worry about what I want to do,” said Vesta. “As long as Kevin knows what I want to do, that’s what matters.”

“Do you know what she’s talking about, Kev?” asked Scarlett.

Kevin, a string bean of a kid who, at sixteen, was already a full head taller than his great-auntie Scarlett, grinned and nodded.“Oh, absolutely, I know what Vesta wants. I’m not so sure she will like what she gets, though.”

“I’ll like it,” said Vesta. “What I want to know is if you can get me what I want.”

“I can get it,” said Kevin with the cocky self-assurance of a teenage computer nerd.

“And you’re sure they can’t trace it back to you?”

“Absolutely. I’m masking my IP address. If they try to find it they’ll end up in Hong Kong or Tokyo, depending on when they look.”

Scarlett shook her head.“All this for a new kitchen.”

“Hey, kitchens are important!” said Vesta. “We spend a large portion of our lives in our kitchens.”

“I thought that was the bedroom?” said Scarlett, quirking a perfectly penciled eyebrow.

Kevin glanced up at his auntie with a grin.“Isn’t it possible that you spend half your life in the bedroom, Auntie Scarlett, and Vesta spends half her life in the kitchen?”

“Shut up and keep working, you,” Vesta snapped, and Kevin shut up and directed his fingers to nimbly dance across the keyboard again, doing whatever it was he was doing. “Look, I want this kitchen, and Marge wants this kitchen. Now we just need to find a way to make Tex pay for this kitchen. And I’m pretty sure with this price he’ll never agree to pull his wallet, so we need to bring what he’s willing to pay and what Fred Kramer of Kramer Kitchen Kreation is asking closer together. Is that so hard to understand?”

“Um,” said Scarlett, skeptical still, “you know when you told me you had a very important mission for the neighborhood watch planned, and you needed Kevin’s help, I never expected you were going to try to rip off the Kitchen King’s outfit.”

“Look, the Kitchen King is rich enough. He’s not going to miss a couple of bucks.”

“This is weird,” suddenly Kevin muttered.

“What is?” asked Scarlett, her heart rate suddenly spiking. Somehow whenever she and Vesta were out and about, the prospect of doing something entirely illegal always seemed to loom large on the horizon.

“I’m not the only one who’s trying to hack the Kitchen King. In fact it looks like there’s at least one other hacker trying to get into the company computer system.”

“So? Plenty of people are probably not willing to pay these ridiculously inflated prices,” said Vesta.

“They’re not trying to mess with the prices, though,” said Kevin as he stared intently at a bunch of weird code on his screen.

“So what do they want?” asked Vesta.

“I’m not sure, but it looks as if…”

“As if what?”

“Well, it looks as if they’re trying to lock down the entire company.”

“You mean… what do you mean, exactly?” asked Scarlett, who’d never understood a thing about computers and the more her nephew talked about what it was he did the more her eyes glazed over and the less she understood.

Kevin looked up, his own eyes glittering excitedly.“I think I just caught one of those ransomware hackers, Auntie Scarlett.”

“What’s a ransomware hacker?” asked Vesta, who was as computer illiterate as her friend, or even more so.

“You know. They put a bunch of viruses on your computer system, effectively locking the whole thing down, so you can’t do anything, and then they get in touch and tell you that they’ll unlock your systems in exchange for let’s say a million bucks, payable in bitcoin. If you don’t pay, youcan kiss your company goodbye, for you’ll have to reinstalleverything. And if you do pay, they’ll unlock everything and you can carry on like before.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” asked Scarlett.

Kevin gave her one of his looks that said: are you serious?“Yes, Auntie Scarlett, it’s completely illegal. These people are criminals, only instead of putting their hands in your pockets, they do it online.”

“Well, that’s not very nice,” said Scarlett, eliciting a guffaw from her geeky nephew.

“So what are you going to do about it?” asked Vesta.

“Do? I’m not going to do anything.”

“Can’t you stop them?” asked Scarlett.

“Um… I guess I can do that… if that’s what you want me to do.” He dragged his eyes away from the screen. “Is that what you want me to do?”

Vesta thought for a moment, then finally nodded in the affirmative.“Yeah. Yeah, I think that’s exactly what I want you to do.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” said Scarlett, even though she still didn’t understand exactly what Kevin was talking about. “We are the neighborhood watch, after all, so we should fight crime, whether it takes place on the street or on the internet. Right?”

Kevin was smirking again, so she gave him a light tap on the head.

“As long as you’re sure,” he said with a shrug. “Though I might have to reveal my IP.”

She and Vesta glanced at each other, giving each other a look that said that A) They had no idea what an IP was and B) They weren’t sure about any of this, but C) They were willing to go along for the ride. So they both shrugged and said in unison, “Go for it, Kev.”

“Isn’t this exciting?” said Scarlett after they’d watched Kevin crack his knuckles and bring up even more code on his screen.

“Just about as exciting as watching paint dry,” Vesta grunted.

Chapter 14

Even though it was the middle of the night, Odelia felt it incumbent upon her and Chase, as responsible pet parents, to confront the person who was guilty of the abduction and subsequent dumping of her precious cats in the middle of the woods.

And so it was that she and Chase stood on the porch of Mrs. Bunyon and husband, eager to have a word with the woman, and find out what had behooved her to catnap Odelia’s cats—and her own cat, too, for that matter!

It took a little while before the doorbell was answered and the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard. By then Odelia had already rung the bell three times and Chase had proceeded to pound on the door a couple of times for good measure.

The door opened and a bedraggled-looking Karl Bunyon appeared, his wife right behind him, both looking wary and ready to engage in a heated discussion with the marauders who’d gotten it into their heads to disturb them at this time of night.

“Miss Poole!” Kathleen Bunyon exclaimed. “What’s wrong?” She darted a quick glance behind her. “Is it… did Chouchou get taken again?”

“Yes, she did,” said Odelia, “and so did my cats.” She wasn’t in the mood for beating around the bush. “And I have credible information that the person who took them is—”

“Odelia!” suddenly Max exclaimed. “It’s not her—it’s him!”

“Yeah, it’s definitely him,” Dooley chimed in. “I thought it was Mrs. Bunyon but now that I smell them both it’s definitely Mr. Bunyon!”

Odelia’s eyes shifted from Mrs. Bunyon to Karl Bunyon, and her ire, like liquid fire already sloshing about her ears, increased even more. “As I said, I have credible intel—very credible intel, in fact—that the person who took my cats, and in fact took all of the cats that have been taken tonight, and probably all the other nights, too, is you!”

And to make sure there could be no mistake she emphasized these words by pointing at Mr. Bunyon, who stood staring at her index finger with a look of consternation on his round features. Karl Bunyon was a man who not only suffered from a receding of the hairline, but also from a weakening of the jawline and a very marked expanding of the waistline. He now stood quivering like a blancmange.

“Me!” he cried. “What are you talking about?” He turned to his wife. “Who are these people, Kathleen? And what are they doing here in the middle of the night!”

“This is Miss Poole, remember? She was here yesterday. I asked her to find Chouchou when she went missing, and she found her.” She gave Chase an uncertain look. “And you are…”

“Chase Kingsley,” said Chase. “Hampton Cove PD.”

“Police!” Mr. Bunyon squeaked, and already was starting to show a certain moistness about the temples. He was dressed in his pajamas, and looked very ill at ease indeed.

“That’s right,” said Chase, giving the man a steely look—the look he gave his most hardened criminals and which only rarely failed to make them tremble at the knees.

“Are you here to… arrest me?” asked Karl Bunyon nervously.

“We just want to know what’s going on,” Odelia explained. “Why you would kidnap these cats, Mr. Bunyon?”

Kathleen turned to her husband questioningly.“Is this true, Karl?”

“Of course it isn’t true! Darling, I would never—ever…” He swallowed uneasily.

“I know of nine cats that have been taken and released in the middle of the woods,” Odelia said. “Four of which are mine, by the way.” She gestured to the foursome at her feet, who all stood staring up at Mr. Bunyon with fury in their eyes.

“It’s him,” said Harriet now. “Dooley called it. It’s definitely him. I can smell it now.”

“Yeah, no doubt about it,” Brutus confirmed. “He took us and bagged us and then dumped us—he’s the Hampton Cove catnapper, all right!”

“Karl, did you really take Miss Poole’s cats and dump them in the woods? Tell me the truth.”

Karl blinked a couple of times, now subjected to the combined scrutiny of four cats, one police detective, one reporter-slash-sleuth and his own wife and cat lover.“I-I can explain,” he finally said, a little lamely, Odelia thought.

Kathleen’s eyes went wide. “You did this?!You kidnapped my precious Chouchou?”

“Maybe we should take this inside,” Chase now suggested. “No sense in talking this thing through out here on the porch.”

And so the discussion proceeded inside, where they gathered in the living room. Chouchou sat eyeing her master with wide-eyed consternation.“I thought I smelled something familiar when he took me,” she now explained. “But I would never have believed it possible—my very own human! Kidnapped me and left me to die!”

“Well, not to die, exactly,” said Harriet. “You had plenty of food out there in the woods, Chouchou, so let’s not get overdramatic, shall we?”

“Okay, so…” Karl began, as his wife regarded him with unmitigated consternation. “So look, Kathy. The thing is…” He sighed deeply, then finally blurted out, “I’m allergic to cats, all right!”

“Allergic!”

“Yeah, I just didn’t want to tell you because… Well, you know how it is. You meet someone and you try to make a good impression on that person, and so when she asks you if you love and adore cats as much as she does, you obviously say yes, because you don’t want to make her think you’re some kind of cat-hating freak. And then one thing leads to another and…” He suddenly sneezed and said, “I’ve been allergic to cats all my life. It’s not that I hate the creatures, though I’m not terribly fond of them as you can imagine, but they make me sick—and I mean that in the kindest way possible,” he hastened to add.

“You are allergic to cats…” said Kathleen, sounding skeptical.

“I am! Always have been.” He sneezed again.

“So is that why you’re always sick?”

“Partly, yeah,” he said. “I have other allergies, too, but mainly it’s cats.” He shrugged. “I probably should have told you from the beginning, when we first started dating, but I fell for you like a ton of bricks, and I had a feeling this whole cat thing was kind of a deal-breaker, so…” He gave her a sheepish look.

“So you decided to lie to me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.”

“But how did you go from being allergic to cats to prowling around at night collecting them off the streets and dumping them in the woods?” asked Odelia.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Max said at her feet.

“Well,” he said, giving Chouchou an uncertain glance, “the thing is, I just thought at some point that the best solution would be to simply get rid of Chouchou once and for all. And I’d read an article that cats are never happier than when in their natural habitat, so I just figured…”

“You just figured you’d take my sweet precious baby and dump her in the woods,” said Kathleen, her anger still building.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said, hanging his head. “And to make sure you wouldn’t suspect me I just thought I’d collect a few of those creatures and put them all in the same place.”

“So we would think a catnapper was on the prowl,” said Odelia, understanding dawning.

Karl Bunyon shrugged.“It sounded like a good idea at the time.”

“Karl, it’s the worst idea possible!” Kathleen screamed, and gave him a good whack on the arm.

“I’m sorry, all right!” he wailed. “I just didn’t know what else to do! My allergies were getting worse and worse, and I had to do something!”

“What you should have done is to come clean and then we could have taken the necessary steps,” said Kathleen.

“You mean give Chouchou away to your folks?” he said hopefully.

“No! To take you to a doctor and get you the proper medication to treat those allergies of yours!”

“Oh, God,” he said, burying his head in his hands. “I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are, Karl,” said Kathleen with grim-faced annoyance. “God! And you tell me he’s gone and kidnapped your cats, too?”

“All four of them,” Odelia confirmed.

“Karl!” Kathleen cried and gave her husband another well-deserved whack.

“I’m sorry, all right! How was I supposed to know those cats belonged to someone?”

“Hello—they’re all wearing collars!”

“Collars with trackers,” Chase specified. “Which is how we knew they’d been taken, and where they’d been taken.”

“Trackers,” Karl murmured as he studied Odelia’s foursome. “I should have known.”

“So now what?” asked Kathleen, as she regarded Chase with a touch of trepidation. “Are you going to arrest my husband?”

“Are you pressing charges?” Chase shot back.

Kathleen stood regarding her husband for a moment, then said,“Karl, go upstairs for a moment will you?”

“But why?” asked her catnapping other half.

“Because there’s something I want to discuss with Miss Poole and Officer Kingsley.”

“Oh, all right,” said Karl, and repaired upstairs.

“Look, I know this looks bad,” said Kathleen once her husband was out of view and out of earshot, “but there’s something I need to explain to you about Karl.”

“We already know about his allergies,” said Odelia. “And we already know he did a very stupid thing here, Kathleen.”

“I know, and I’ll deal with him in my own way. But here’s the thing about Karl: he’s been through the wringer and I think it’s taken its toll on him—no, I know it’s taken its toll on him. See, when I met him he was really down in the dumps. He’d just gone through a terrible divorce,and he was feeling at a very low ebb in his life. So even though it sounds odd that he would lie about his allergies, when you know what he was like back then it’s actually almost understandable why he did what he did.”

“How come?” asked Chase. “Why was he in such a bad way?”

“It’s a long story, and I’ll save you the details. But let’s just say that Karl used to be something of a big shot at Kramer Kitchen Kreation, Fred Kramer’s outfit?”

Odelia shared a look with her husband.“Isn’t that where Mom and Gran went to pick out a new kitchen?”

“I think so,” Chase said.

“Well, Karl was their chief accountant—Fred Kramer’s go-to financial guy. Karl’s then-wife Grace was Fred’s secretary, and for a while things were going great. Until Fred started an affair with Karl’s wife, and Fred accused Karl of embezzlement and had him kicked out of the company. So suddenly Karl not only lost his marriage, but also his high-flying job and his social esteem. He went from being the cat’s meow to being a nothing.”

“Did Fred press charges?”

“Oh, no. And according to Karl there never was any embezzlement and I believe him. I think the embezzlement charge was just an excuse to get rid of Karl, and to convince Grace that her husband was a crook so she’d leave him for Fred, which she did.”

“But that’s terrible,” said Odelia.

“And you haven’t even heard the worst part. Karl and Grace had two kids, and ever since the divorce Grace has been trying to take the kids away from him. She got custody of the kids, based on those embezzlement charges, which were all dropped, by the way, a clear sign they were bogus, and now she’s trying to take Karl’s visitation rights away.” She gave Odelia a knowing look. “So you see, if it gets out that Karl has been grabbing cats and dumping them in the woods, Grace is sure to use it as more ammunition in the divorce battle against her ex-husband, and he’ll almost certainly lose his kids for good.”

“So I take it you’re not going to press charges,” said Odelia, getting the gist.

“Look, I think what he did is terrible, and he should never have touched my cat or your cats, or any of those cats, but Karl has been under a lot of pressure lately.”

“The custody battle.”

Kathleen nodded.“It’s really taken a toll on him, and he’s not thinking straight at the moment.”

“Okay, all right, I get that,” said Odelia. “But the thing is, close to the place where your husband dumped the cats—yours and mine—a man was found. A dead man.”

“Oh, I saw something about that,” said Kathleen, nodding. “A vagrant, wasn’t he?”

“We’re not sure yet,” said Chase. “But we were actually looking for the catnapper because we figured he might be involved with this murder business.”

Kathleen’s eyes went wide. “Karl? A murderer? You must be joking!”

“I’m afraid I’m dead serious.”

“At the very least he’s a potential witness,” said Odelia. “So can you perhaps tell him to come back down so we can ask him if he saw something when he was out there?”

Kathleen had gone a little white around the nostrils, and looked even more distracted than before.“Karl!” she yelled. “Come down here a minute, will you?”

Dutifully her husband came pounding down the stairs, and within moments had joined them again.“And?” he asked, looking nervous and sweating even more than before. “What’s the verdict?”

Just then, a pink-haired teenage girl appeared behind Karl Bunyon, and said,“What’s going on? What’s with all the yelling?”

She was dressed in an oversized Minnie Mouse T-shirt and looked sleepy-eyed.

“Go back to bed, Suzy.”

“But, Mom!”

“Go back to bed! I’ll explain everything in the morning.”

“Oh, all right,” she grumbled, and stomped back up the stairs.

“There’s something I need to ask you, Mr. Bunyon,” said Chase.

“Of course, officer,” said Karl with a nervous chuckle.

“Not this night, but last night, when you took Chouchou into the woods the first time, along with several other cats, did you happen to notice something out of the ordinary?”

Karl frowned and looked from Chase to Odelia and back.“Something out of the ordinary? Like what?”

“Well…”

“They want to know if you killed that bum,” his wife now supplied. She’d crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Karl didn’t respond at first, then he blinked and said, “Killed that bum? What bum?”

“A bum was killed out in the woods and buried there,” Kathleen supplied. “It was all over the news, Karl! God, I can’t believe you didn’t see that. Anyway, Miss Poole and Officer Kingsley want to know if you had something to do with that.” She gave her husband an angry look. “More specifically they want to know if, apart from kidnapping cats, you’re also in the habit of murdering bums and burying them in the woods.”

A high-pitched whinny was Karl’s response, but when no one joined in, Karl seemed to realize this wasn’t a joke but serious business. “Of course not!” he finally exclaimed. “I’m not a killer. I only did what I did because of my allergies, and because I was afraid to admit to my wife that I’d lied about loving catsas much as she does. But murder!”

“Okay, all right, “said Chase, holding up his hands in an appeasing gesture. “Look, the body was found close to where you left those cats, and on the same night. So did you happen to see anyone out there?”

“No. No, I didn’t,” he said, and looked truthful enough as he said it.

“Okay, Karl,” said Chase. “I want you to come into the precinct tomorrow and make that statement official, is that understood?”

“But, officer…” said Kathleen.

“We’re not going to talk about the cats,” Chase said. “If you’re not pressing charges, we won’t press charges either. Isn’t that right, Odelia?”

“No, I’m not pressing charges,” Odelia confirmed. More than being angry with Karl, she felt sorry for him now, and didn’t want to add to the problems he was already facing.

“Okay, so as far as we’re concerned, the cat business is over and done with. But only on the condition that you don’t go out and start kidnapping cats again—are we absolutely clear on that, Karl?”

“Yeah. No, of course I won’t do this again. Absolutely.”

“Then I’ll consider this matter resolved,” said Chase with a touch of finality.

Though as they left the house, and judging from the look on Mrs. Bunyon’s face, it was clear the last word about Karl’s anti-cat initiative hadn’t been spoken yet.

Chapter 15

The next morning we were up early, and traveling along our usual haunts to collect those nice little tidbits of information and gossip our human likes to gather preparatory to writing her articles for the Gazette: usually we do the rounds of the whole town, starting with a visit to Kingman, then on to the barbershop, where another one of our contacts usually is able to supply us with some juicy bits hot from the lips of Fido’s clients, and then of course there’s the police station, where we like to spy on Uncle Alec, also known as Chief Alec, our town’s chief of police. Now I know that Uncle Alec likes to keep Odelia in the loop, but there’s always stuff that falls through the cracks, and it is for this reasonthat Dooley and myself found ourselves out on Uncle Alec’s windowsill, ready to do our bit for the furtherance of the information mill churning out fresh grist.

As luck would have it, Uncle Alec and Chase were engaged in a meeting, discussing recent events, and more in particular the discovery of the dead body in the woods.

“So I hear you caught your catnapper last night?” the Chief grumbled.

“Yeah, but his wife isn’t going to press charges,” said Chase as he sat across from his superior officer, his long legs stretched out before him, his strong arms crossed in front of his muscular chest. “And since we’re not pressing charges either, it looks as if Karl Bunyon is off the hook.”

“And he’s sure he didn’t see anyone out in those woods?”

“Nope. Didn’t see anyone.”

“And you’re absolutely convinced he’s not the killer we’re after?”

“Pretty sure. He doesn’t look like the kind of guy who’d go around murdering innocent vagrants, Chief. In fact you should have seen the guy. You would feel sorry for him, too. First dumped by his first wife, and now having to live with the cat of his second wife even though he hates cats.”

“I thought you said he’s allergic to them?”

“Pretty sure he simply hates cats.”

“Okay, all right,” said the Chief as he dragged his sausage-sized fingers through the few remaining strands of hair on his large dome. “So we got the coroner’s report and it takes us exactly nowhere.” He frowned darkly at his computer, as if it had personally offended him, and said, “Body of an unidentified male between fifty-five and sixty years of age, fingerprints not in the system. All we know is that he was shot through the head with a .38 caliber bullet, and that he’s been living rough for the past couple of years.”

“So basically a bum.”

“I don’t think that’s the politically correct term, but yeah, basically a bum. And so far we’ve got nothing.” Uncle Alec then happened to glance in my direction and rolled his eyes. “And if you’ve got any sense, Max!” he said, raising his voice, “You should be out there gathering clues for me, not spying on whatever I have to say in here, all right!”

I gave the chief a one-nailed salute, and said,“Come on, Dooley. Nothing to see here, I’m afraid.”

And we were just about to jump down from that windowsill when suddenly the door to Uncle Alec’s office burst open and a red-faced man stormed in and yelled, “I want to press charges, Chief. I want to press charges against your brother-in-law!”

Dooley gave me a curious glance.“I take it we’re going to stick around a little longer?”

“Oh, you bet we are,” I said, and we both hunkered down again.

“What are you talking about?” asked the Chief indignantly.

“Tex Poole is your brother-in-law, is he not?”

“Yeah, he is. So what?”

“So he hacked my company’s computer system last night, and installed what is commonly termed ransomware on the entire system, and now he’s asking for one million dollars in bitcoin or else he’ll keep my company hostage!”

Uncle Alec and Chase shared a look of concern, then the Chief turned back to the red-faced man. He had one of those square heads you don’t see very often, and his neck wouldn’t have looked out of place on an old turtle, but otherwise he wasn’t as old as all that. I would have pegged him in his early fifties or late forties. He also had a large belly, one that stuck out from the vest of his dark blue suit.

“Who are you?” asked Chase.

“My name is Fred Kramer, and I run Kramer Kitchen Kreation,” said the man.

“Fred Kramer as in the Kitchen King?”

“One and the same. And as I just explained to you, I want to press charges against Tex Poole. I want you to make him release my system. I can’t do anything right now. Payroll, inventory, my list of customers, orders, invoicing, everything is blocked. I can’t do a damn thing! And if he really thinks I’m going to pay him a million bucks he’s nuts!”

“Okay, all right,” said Chase, holding up his hands. “And how do you know that Tex Poole is the one behind all this?”

“Because I’ve had my IT guy working on this since five o’clock this morning when we discovered the breakin, and he says the IP address connected with the attack is Tex Poole’s. And since I just happen to know a couple of people in this town, and I asked around, they all said he’s your brother-in-law!”

Uncle Alec nodded.“Look, Tex Poole is a doctor, all right? And he knows just about as much about computers as I do, which is to say zilch. So it’s impossible that he would be involved in something like this… ransomware attack you’ve got going on.”

“I’m just telling you what my IT guy told me: the IP address connected with the attack is registered to Tex Poole. And that’s all I need to know to file charges against the man, and to demand that you arrest him and force him to release my computer systems. And if you don’t want to take himdown because he’s family, I’m going to the Mayor and I’m going to demand that she takes action. And if the Mayor won’t do anything, because she’s your girlfriend—oh, yes, I know about that, too—I’m going to the FBI!”

“Okay, let’s just calm down for a moment,” said Uncle Alec, “and think this thing through. Look, I know for a fact that Tex has got nothing to do with this, because, as I just said, the man is a computer illiterate.”

“Says you!” Mr. Kramer shook his head. “The gall of the man. And to think he was in my shop yesterday, picking out a new kitchen, along with his wife and his mother.”

“His mother?” asked the Chief, looking up.

Mr. Kramer nodded.“Yeah, some white-haired little old lady in a blue tracksuit. She was the one calling the shots.” Just then, his phone chimed, and he picked it out of his pocket. “Steve, yeah, shoot!” He listened for a moment, then frowned and said, “You did? But that’s great! Yeah, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He disconnected, still frowning, and said, “Looks like my IT guy has managed to break through the malware or whatever they planted on my computers. And now he’s saying the attack did not come from Tex Poole.”

“Look, Tex Poole doesn’t know diddly about computers, all right?” said Uncle Alec, not for the first time, “So I can tell you with absolute certainty that whatever happened, the man wasn’t involved.”

The Kitchen King thumped the desk with his fist.“I’m still pressing charges!”

“I thought your IT guy said that Tex didn’t do it?” said Chase.

Fred Kramer frowned again.“Yeah, I don’t get that.” And as swiftly as he’d entered the office, he walked out again, then turned and said, “I’m still pressing charges!” and after that parting shot, he was gone.

Dooley and I jumped down from the windowsill to see what happened next, and where this irate furniture king was going, and as we followed his progress from the building, we saw that he got into a nice black Tesla and took off at a dizzying speed. And just as he drove out of the parking lot outside the precinct, a little red Peugeot came zooming in, also driving very fast, and occupying a much larger swath of road than was necessarily awarded it, based on the road markings.

The upshot, of course, was that the little red Peugeot, coincidentally chauffeured by Grandma Muffin, sliced a nice long strip of black paint off Fred Kramer’s Tesla.

Chapter 16

“You scratched my car!” said the guy. He looked like a turtle, Vesta thought, with his square bald head and his weird neck. He also looked angry. “You’re going to pay for this!”

“Hey, aren’t you that Kitchen King?” asked Scarlett. “Fred Kramer? I love your commercials, Mr. Kramer.” She started to sing, “I’m on a mission—to give everyone a swell new kitchen—you won’t miss a thing—when you buy a kitchen from the king.”

“I was in your shop yesterday,” said Vesta, who’d also recognized the guy now.

Mr. Kramer frowned, and for a moment two different sentiments seemed to engage in a tug of war inside his bosom: the desire to please a potential customer on the one hand, and the desire to squash the person who’d scratched his nice car. Then the salesman in him seemed to get the upper hand, and he forced something approaching a smile on his face and said, “I remember you. You were with your son-in-law Tex Poole, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” said Vesta. “In fact we were going to drop by again, but not until we talked to the cops first. Did you know that someone tried to break into your computer last night?”

Mr. Kramer’s eyes narrowed. “So they told you about that, did they? Tex Poole broke into my computer last night and wants me to pay him a million dollars!”

Vesta shared a quick look with Scarlett.

“Actually Tex did no such thing,” said Scarlett. “My nephew is a computer nerd, and he was showing off last night. And he just happened to come upon this breakin into your company’s computer, and he actually managed to prevent it.”

Mr. Kramer looked from Vesta to Scarlett.“You two broke into my computer?”

“No. We stopped someone from doing exactly that,” Scarlett explained.

Alec and Chase had also walked out of the station and now joined the discussion.

“Bad scratch you’ve got there, Mr. Kramer,” said Alec.

“She did that,” the Kitchen King growled, pointing a stubby finger in Vesta’s direction.

Vesta saw that there was another scratch and a dent across the hood of the car, so she said,“You really should learn how to drive more carefully, Mr. Kramer.”

“Never mind that,” he growled. Then he seemed to remember once more what they’d been discussing before Alec had stuck his big nose in. “So who broke into my computer—Tex Poole or you?”

“Listen carefully, Mr. Kitchen King,” said Vesta. “Last night we were goofing around, and we just happened to discover that some hacker was trying to break into your company’s computer system, see? And guess what? We stopped the attack!”

Chase suppressed a grin, as Alec cut a tired glance in his mom’s direction. “You are the hacker?”

“Me! A hacker! As if! No, Scarlett’s nephew likes to think he’s something of a computer nerd, and last night he just happened to be showing off all the things he can do with a computer—you’d be amazed by the stuff that’s possible these days.”

“I’ll bet,” Chase muttered.

“And so we got to talking about these recent ransomware attacks, see?”

“What recent ransomware attacks?” asked Alec. “I don’t know anything about any recent ransomware attacks.”

Vesta ignored him.“So he told us to pick a target—any target—and he’d demonstrate how it’s done.”

“You did what?!”

“And since we’d been shopping at Mr. Kramer’s very nice emporium yesterday afternoon, I said, just for a lark, why don’t you try to hack into the Kitchen King? And you know what? He did!”

“And it was then that he discovered that some other hacker was actually busy carrying out just such a ransomware attack!” said Scarlett.

“Can you imagine?” said Vesta.

“Oh, but I can,” said Chase, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“And so he asked us what he should do, and of course we told him to stop the attack, if he could, and that’s what he did.” Vesta now stood beaming at Fred Kramer. “And so what do you say to that, Fred? We actually saved your company!”

“Then how come I got a message this morning when I booted up my computer that unless I pay one million dollars in bitcoin my systems would remain on lockdown?” asked a still irate-looking Fred Kramer, his turtle neck now a nasty color purple.

“My nephew explained all that,” said Scarlett. “He said it might take a while before everything is cleared up. He managed to stop the attack, but certain remnants of the virus will still be on your system. Your IT department should be able to deal with that.”

“Well, they did,” Fred admitted reluctantly. “I just got a call from my IT guy and he said it looks like things are clearing up.”

“Well, now you know who to thank for that,” said Vesta, patting the big man on the back.

“I still don’t get why the name Tex Poole popped up,” said Fred mulishly.

“Because we were working on Tex’s wi-fi when it happened,” Vesta explained.

“Yeah, my nephew doesn’t like to use his own wi-fi when he demonstrates that kind of stuff,” Scarlett added.

“Now I wonder why that is?” Chase said with a grin.

“Look, maybe we can discuss all this over dinner,” said Vesta now. “What do you say, Fred? Dinner at our place tonight? We’ll thresh this whole thing out, and then we can talk turkey.”

“Turkey?”

“The kitchen remodel! What better way to celebrate this new and beautiful friendship that has just sprung up between us than to sit down for a nice dinner and talk kitchens!”

“Mh…” said Mr. Kramer, and glanced at that nasty scratch on his car again.

“We saved you a million dollars, Fred!” Vesta exclaimed, patting the man on the broad back again. He didn’t seem to enjoy the process, though when she mentioned the million dollars she’d saved him, his initial frostiness seemed to melt away to some extent.

“Myes,” he finally conceded. “It certainly looks that way.” He frowned before him for a moment, then finally said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to get back to you about that dinner, Mrs…”

“Muffin. Vesta Muffin. And this is Scarlett Canyon. You can write our names large in the annals of Kramer Kitchen Kreation. If it hadn’t been for us, you might have gone belly-up today, Fred—remember that,” she added with an admonishing wag of the finger.

Still unconvinced, Fred got into his car, then took off. And as they stood staring after the Kitchen King’s departure, Alec said with an exaggerated sigh, “Ma, what am I going to do with you, huh?”

“Thank me, for one thing. I just got us all free kitchen remodels, sonny boy.” She pointed from Chase to Alec to Scarlett. “You get a new kitchen, and you get a new kitchen, and you get a new kitchen.” She smiled. “Not bad for one night’s hacking, huh?”

“Oh, God, help me,” Alec muttered, the ungrateful cad.

Chapter 17

Odelia had missed all the fun: by the time she arrived at the precinct, her grandmother and Scarlett had left, and so had the Kitchen King. But as she sat in her husband’s office, and he related the incident, she couldn’t help but smile at her grandmother’s shenanigans.

“I think she just wanted to find a way to bring the price down on that kitchen remodel,” said Chase, “and so she tried to break into the company computer to change the quote and discovered someone else was also trying to hack into Kramer’s outfit. So she saw an opportunity and took it.”

“It all sounds typical Gran,” Odelia had to admit. “But also very illegal, right?”

“Not unless you get caught,” said Chase, “and clearly she managed to talk her way out of it. Though judging from Fred Kramer’s response, I very much doubt whether a free kitchen will be in the cards.”

“Gran did save the man a million dollars in bitcoin.”

“Yeah, she did. Talk about a lucky coincidence. Now what did you want to ask?”

“If you’ve got any news on that bum in the woods case?”

“The bum in the woods case. Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“I guess so,” she said with a smile.

“Well, I just had a meeting with your uncle, which I’m sure your cats will be able to tell you all about, as they were up to their usual spying tricks, and the conclusion is that we know exactly nothing. The guy is a complete John Doe.”

“But who killed him? And who buried him out there?”

“As far as I can tell, the only viable suspect we have so far is your Karl Bunyon.”

“He’s not my Karl Bunyon, Chase.”

The burly cop shrugged and dragged his hands through his shaggy mane.“He was right there when it happened, babe. Maybe John Doe saw him release those cats and Karl got scared and decided to get rid of the guy—with this custody battle hanging over him, and the prospect of losing his kids, maybe he simply panicked and shot the man.”

“It’s a possibility,” she had to admit.

“He doesn’t strike me as a killer, though, so for now we’re pursuing other avenues.” He picked up an Unidentified Person poster of which he had a whole stack on his desk, and said, “We’re distributing these now, and launching an appeal through local TV stations, hoping someone recognizes our Mr. Doe and gives us an ID. Because it’s hard to catch a killer if you don’t even know the name of the victim.”

Suddenly Odelia’s phone dinged and she looked down. “Well, what do you know?” she said. “Looks like we’re invited for dinner at my parents’ place tonight. And they’re proud to announce they’ve got a very special guest of honor.”

Chase laughed.“Let me guess: Fred Kramer?”

“How did you know?”

“Looks like Vesta will get her free kitchen remodel after all.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

“Collars! Get your collars!” Vesta was yelling.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Scarlett.

“Of course it’s a good idea! With all these catnappings, everybody wants a collar with inbuilt tracker. Collars! Get your collars! Never lose track of your precious pet again!”

They were in Town Square, where Vesta had dragged an entire box full of tracking collars. She’d found them in some dime store over in Happy Bays. And Scarlett had to admit they were selling like hotcakes. Already they’d sold a dozen, and word was clearly spreading for more and more pet owners were showing up to buy the gadgets.

“Vesta!” Father Reilly cried as he came hurrying up on his bike. The parish priest looked excited at the prospect of buying a collar for his cat. “Are you sure these work?” He was fingering a collar that looked as if it had gold thread woven through the material.

“Absolutely,” said Vesta. “These are top-of-the-line quality, Francis. All you need to do is slap one of these babies on Shanille, activate the device, and you’ll be able to track that sweet puss wherever she goes.”

The priest nodded.“How much?”

“For you? Fifty bucks—a real bargain!”

Scarlett eyed her friend narrowly, but Vesta pointedly ignored her.

“Listen, Vesta,” said Father Reilly as he took out his wallet, “I want back in.”

“Back in what?” asked Vesta as she accepted a crispy fifty-dollar note.

“The watch! I’m hearing so many good things about you—and Scarlett, of course,” he added with a nod in the latter’s direction. “I want to do my part to keep our community safe, the way you and Scarlett have so valiantly been doing. So what do you say?”

“Let me think about it,” said Vesta as she handed the priest his collar.

Father Reilly’s face lit up with a smile. “Great. You won’t regret this, Vesta. I’m highly motivated to go out and fight crime again. Oh, and while you’re at it, consider taking Wilbur back, too, will you? I know he’s raring to go.”

Vesta nodded, and they watched Father Reilly get back on his bike and ride off.

Scarlett turned to her friend.“Fifty bucks! Are you serious?”

“Safety comes at a price, Scarlett.”

“You just sold one to Fido Siniawski for twenty bucks!”

“It’s called inflation.”

“You bought those collars for a buck apiece!”

“So? I want to buy us a new car for the watch and cars don’t come cheap, you know. Collars! Get your collars! Keep your pets safe from the Hampton Cove catnapper!”

Scarlett shook her head.“You’re something else.”

Vesta grinned.“Thanks for the compliment. Now don’t just stand there—sell some collars before word gets out that the catnapper’s already been caught!”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

That night, Odelia sat down for dinner with not only her own family, but also Hampton Cove’s resident Kitchen King and his wife, the lovely Mrs. Grace Kramer, formerly known as Grace Bunyon, though Odelia decided to keep that information to herself, as she didn’t think Mrs. Kramer would enjoy being reminded of the time she went through life as the wife of Karl Bunyon.

Mom and Gran had done their utmost to put an impressive dinner on the table, and their guests were suitably impressed with the French onion pork chops, green beans with almonds and caramelized onions and the homemade creamed potatoes. And for dessert there was peach cobbler and chocolate gooey butter cookies. Fred Kramer was as suave and garrulous as he was in the TV spots that had made him and his company famous, and he and his elegant wife Grace made the perfect dinner guests.

Fred was extremely grateful that Gran and Scarlett, who was also present, had saved his business from ruin, as he now called it. He’d talked things over with his IT department people, and it turned out that Scarlett’s nephew had indeed been able to thwart the attack by being in the right place at the right time and doing the right thing.

“I’m sorry for doubting you, my dear Mrs. Muffin,” said Fred now as he put down his utensils after having eaten his fill. “When my IT guy told me that Tex Poole was behind the attack, and then you told me that whole story, I wasn’t sure who to believe! But it’s pretty obvious to me now that you saved me a heck of a lot of grief.”

“And a lot of money!” said Gran proudly.

“A million dollars,” said Grace Kramer, shaking her red curls in astonishment. “Were you really going to have to pay that amount of money, darling?”

“Yeah, looks like,” said Fred ruefully. “Turns out these ransomware attacks are becoming more and more frequent and more and more sophisticated, and the people behind it are really good. So it’s almost inevitable that either you lose access to your entire computer system, and start from scratch, or that you pay through the nose.”

“And if you do pay, what guarantee do you have that they’ll give you back access to the computers?” asked Marge.

“Apparently these people are crooks but they’re also savvy business people. They know that if they don’t do as they promise, people will stop paying. So they actually are true to their word, as strange as it may sound.”

“Do all companies pay?” asked Marge as she poured Mr. Kramer some more wine.

“From what I can tell, many of them actually do, Mrs. Poole.”

“Yeah, it’s true,” said Chase. “Plenty of small business owners are attacked and many don’t even report it to the police anymore. I think the numbers are staggering, in fact.”

“But who’s behind all these attacks?” asked Odelia, intrigued by this story, and vowing to write an article about it in a future edition of the Gazette.

“Well, mostly these cybercriminals operate from abroad,” said Uncle Alec, who was, of course, also present—he never missed an opportunity to put his feet under the table at his sister and brother-in-law’s place. “Eastern Germany and Russia mostly. In other words, tough to get our hands onthem.”

“This is just terrible,” said Marge, shaking her head.

“Yeah, it is pretty scary,” said Fred. “You suddenly stand to lose your entire business overnight. And we at Kramer Kitchen Kreation may run a successful business, but a million dollars is a lot of money, and would put a serious dent in our profits for the year.”

“At least this time the criminals didn’t get what they wanted,” said Scarlett, and raised her glass in a salute. “To Vesta Muffin, who once again showed that she is a true neighborhood watch leader, now even expanding into cyberspace!”

Everyone laughed, except Uncle Alec, who had never been a big fan of the watch.

“To Vesta,” said the Kitchen King. “Thank you, my dear lady. And I’ll be sure to translate my gratitude into a healthy discount on your kitchen remodel.”

When dinner was over, and Tex was getting their guests’ coats, Grace Kramer turned to Odelia. “I heard you’ve been in touch with my ex-husband,” she said, a slightly stilted smile on her face.

“Yeah, their cat had gone missing, and I was lucky enough to find it for them.”

“Let me give you a piece of advice, Miss Poole. Don’t get involved with Karl. And especially don’t believe a word the man says.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Did he tell you that he stole from Fred? We both used to work for him, Karl as Fred’s accountant, and me as his secretary. But that was before Fred discovered that Karl had been stealing from him. He should have gone to the police, but Fred is a good man, and he didn’t want to make things difficult for Karl, even though I told him to press charges.”

“You were still married to Karl when this happened?”

“I was. The whole business opened my eyes to what kind of man Karl is. I couldn’t stay with him after what I discovered. The stealing, the lying.” She shrugged. “Fred showed me what kind of man I’d married, and that was it. I never looked back, and I’ve never been happier. So please be careful, Miss Poole,” she said as she accepted her coat from Odelia’s dad. “The man talks a good talk, but he’s wicked.”

And with these words, she strode out in the wake of her husband.

Chapter 18

That night, we were all having a good time at cat choir, when suddenly Clarice appeared next to me, seemingly out of nowhere. Clarice has that tendency to simply materialize. I don’t know how she does it, but it’s a most disconcerting experience. First there’s nothing, and then suddenly she’s there. And she can disappear again in just the same way—just like a ghost.

“I found another dead body, Max,” she announced.

I did a double-take.“You did what?”

“Another dead body. I don’t know what it is with this town, but I keep finding dead bodies. First that body that was buried out in the woods, and now this new one.”

“You found another body in the woods?” I asked, leading her aside where we could talk without being overheard. If there’s one thing that’s disadvantageous about cat choir is that it’s filled with cats, and since cats like to spy and gossip more than anything, there’s nothing that you can discuss without it being all over town within minutes.

“No, this time I found it at the bottom of an elevator shaft,” said Clarice, who was talking about this dead body as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I was minding my own business as usual, and I happened to pass this new construction site on Carmel Street. And since these builders usually have nothing better to do than to sit around and eat, I figured I just might take a look at their dumpster—you’d be amazed what you can find in building site dumpsters. I once found an entire lobster there. And so I was hunting around for another precious find when I happened to smell something dead and decaying. And so naturally I went in search of the source of the smell.”

“Naturally,” I agreed, even though if I smelled something dead and decaying, I’d run a mile. But then that’s me, of course. One of those areas where Clarice and I differ.

“And that’s when I found him.”

“Him? So it’s a him?”

“Yep. Some dead dude, lying at the bottom of an elevator shaft, dead as a dodo.”

“Can you tell me exactly where you found this dead dude?” I asked dutifully, already figuring out how to reach Odelia and get the ball rolling on a rescue attempt—for in spite of Clarice’s words the man might not be dead yet, and could still be saved.

Clarice said,“I can do you one better. I’ll take you there. It’s not far from here.”

“Okay,” I said. “Show us the way, Clarice.”

And so we set out in Clarice’s wake: me, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus.

Clarice was right: it was only a ten-minute walk from the park where cat choir likes to engage in its nocturnal activities. And as we looked down into that elevator shaft, which was still under construction, I had to admit she’d been right on the money: this man was indeed very much dead and unfortunately medical assistance would be to no avail.

I sighed.“A lot of dead people are turning up in our town lately.”

“Only two dead people,” said Dooley. “Two is not a lot, is it?”

“Yeah, Max,” said Harriet, “one swallow doesn’t make a summer, and two dead bodies don’t make a massacre.”

“Good one, babe,” said Brutus with a chuckle.

“Well, this is where I leave you, guys,” said Clarice. “You’ll take it from here, I trust?”

“Yeah, thanks, Clarice,” I said.

“And if you find more dead bodies, please tell us,” said Dooley.

Clarice smiled.“Rest assured I will, Dooley.”

“Oh, wait, Clarice,” I said. “You didn’t happen to see anyone else around, did you?”

“No one. Why?”

“Well, it looks like this guy accidentally tumbled down this shaft, but you never know. He might also have been pushed.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Brutus. “This is clearly an accident, Max.”

“Yeah, obviously,” said Harriet, who was already losing interest in the dead guy now that the novelty had worn off.

“Max sees murder and mayhem everywhere,” Brutus explained to Clarice. “If he sees a dead body, immediately he assumes there must have been foul play involved. Whereas most people simply die, you know, either of natural causes or by accident.”

“I’m not saying he didn’t die by accident,” I said. “I’m just trying to cover all my bases.”

“And a good thing, too,” said Clarice. “But I have to disappoint you, Max. There was no one around when I stumbled upon the guy. So I’ll be seeing you around, yeah?”

“Take care, Clarice,” I said. “And thank you!” I called after her.

She held up her tail and made a little acknowledging swish-swish.

“And now the hard part,” I said. “One of us has to run home and get Odelia out here.”

“Why one of us?” asked Harriet. “Why can’t we all go home and let Odelia deal with this? Or Chase? It is their job to do this kind of thing, isn’t it? Not ours.”

“At least one of us has to stay here in case someone shows up,” I explained.

“Who’ll show up? It’s the middle of the night. Nobody is going to show up.”

“Oh, I see what he’s getting at,” said Brutus. “Max is thinking that if this was murder, the killer might come back and try to dispose of the body. Isn’t that what you’re thinking, Max?”

I admitted that I was thinking along those lines, and they both laughed.

“Oh, Max,” said Harriet when her laughter had expended itself. “You’re too funny. We already told you that this isn’t murder but an accident, so nobody is going to show up and nobody is going to dispose of any bodies.”

“Still,” I insisted. “I’d feel much better if one of us stayed behind and guarded the body.”

“Oh, have it your way,” said Harriet with an eyeroll. “You stay behind then, and we’ll go home and get some sleep.”

“And tell Odelia, right?” I asked, just to make sure.

“Of course we’ll tell Odelia,” said Harriet with another eyeroll. “What do you take us for? Noobs?”

Brutus patted my back, almost causing me to buckle under the onslaught.“You just stick around, Maxie baby,” he said with a grin. “And we’ll take care of everything.”

And with these words, they took off, still laughing at my expense.“Dooley, are you coming?” Harriet yelled over her shoulder.

“No, I think I’ll stay here with Max,” Dooley yelled back.

“Suit yourself!” said Brutus, and off they were.

For a moment, silence reigned, since I wasn’t talking but thinking about what had happened, and Dooley wasn’t talking but thinking about whatever he was thinking about, and obviously the dead man wasn’t talking since he was dead. Then Dooley said, “I hope they won’t forget to tell Odelia, otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

“I’m sure they won’t forget,” I said.

“Do you really think the man was murdered, Max?”

“I don’t know, Dooley. That’s for the police to decide. But if he was murdered, it’s important that we guard the scene, so nothing gets disturbed.”

“It’s strange though, isn’t it, Max?”

“What is, Dooley?”

“Two dead bodies. What if we keep finding dead bodies from now on, one per night?”

“I’d say the chances of that happening are very slim indeed.”

“I hope so. If we find a dead body every night, that’s three hundred and sixty-five bodies a year.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How many people are there in Hampton Cove, Max?”

“Um, I’d say about fifteen thousand.”

“That means that in just a few years the entire population of Hampton Cove will be extinct, and only us cats will be left if this keeps up.”

I laughed.“Your math is flawed, Dooley, and the chances of that happening are nil.”

“But what happens if the whole town dies out, Max? Who’s going to take care of us?”

“I’m sure that won’t happen, Dooley, and even if it does, there are still people left in the world who’ll be able to take care of us.”

“But what if all the people in all the towns in all the world suddenly end up at the bottom of a deep hole, Max, or at the bottom of an elevator shaft, who’s going to take care of us then?”

“Well, I guess then we’ll just have to join Clarice in the woods, and we’ll have to learn to fend for ourselves.”

“Oh,” he said, ruminating on that unappealing prospect. “Well, let’s hope you’re right, and it doesn’t happen. Cause I don’t think I’d enjoy living with Clarice in the woods and eating from dumpsters.”

“If all the people in all the towns in all the world are dead, Dooley,” I said, “there won’t be any more dumpsters, and Clarice will have to find her food some other way, and so will we.”

“Oh, no, Max!” he said, suddenly realizing the awful repercussions of his gloomy post-apocalyptic view, which seemed to come straight from a Stephenie Meyer novel. “That’s terrible!”

But lucky for me, just then Odelia and Chase arrived and came hurrying over to where we were guarding the dead man, and I didn’t have to speculate anymore on these Walking Dead scenarios of doom!

Chapter 19

Odelia looked around the small but cozy little studio. It hadn’t taken them long to find out that the man found at the bottom of the elevator shaft was named Darryl Farmer and that he lived with his girlfriend in a modest apartment in Leighton Heights. She and Chase had gone over there to talk to the girlfriend, and break the bad news to her.

“I knew this would happen one day,” said the girlfriend, whose name was Lucy Vale. She had long hair done up in dreadlocks, and was very pretty and petite, dressed in a flowing maroon robe. “I told him that if he kept this up, he’d end up dead.”

“And why is that?” asked Chase, who, like Odelia, was seated on a bean bag and trying to find a comfortable way to sit, which unfortunately was quite impossible. The entire studio was decorated in hobo chic style, with portraits of dead poets adorning the walls, and plenty of symbols for weed. The studio smelled of weed, too—a pervasive smell.

“Darryl was a raver and a DJ. It was what he lived for. And smoking weed and popping pills was part of the deal, unfortunately. He must have been baked out of his mind when he stumbled down that shaft.” She gave Chase a curious look. “You’re sure he was alone?”

“What do you mean?”

“He wasn’t with some girl?”

“You mean…”

“Darryl was something of a playboy, never happy to stick with one girl.”

“You’re saying he was unfaithful to you?” asked Odelia.

Lucy nodded, her fingers twitching as if holding a cigarette.“It was the reason I kicked him out last month.”

“Oh, so you weren’t a couple anymore?”

“No, I caught him cheating on me with some pink-haired teenager. It wouldn’t surprise me if she wasn’t even of age.”

Odelia cut a quick glance to her husband.“Do you happen to remember her name?”

“Um… Suzy something?”

“Suzy Bunyon?”

“Could be. I didn’t pay attention. She wasn’t the only one, by the way. Darryl would find himself a new girl every week. He’d hit on anything with a skirt at the raves he liked to attend. In fact that’s where we met. Only he’d convinced me I was the one, and for a while I believed him. But that didn’t last long.” She glanced up at the ceiling. “About six months or so? And then I discovered he’d been cheating on me all this time, his latest conquest this Suzy person, but there had been others, I’m sure.”

“Is there any reason you can think of why he’d be at a deserted construction site in the middle of the night?” asked Chase.

“Not really. It wasn’t the kind of place where he’d organize one of his raves, if that’s what you mean.”

“Where did he organize his raves?”

“Lately the place to be was the woods just outside Hampton Cove. You probably know where. You head in the direction of Happy Bays and then you turn left just beyond the town sign. We’ve been partying there the last couple of months now. Though mainly Darryl, not me. I have a job, you see. I can’t stay up all night and then expect to be able to work all day. But he was out there every night as far as I know.”

“The woods, huh,” said Chase, jotting down a note.

“Yeah, Darryl was an ace DJ. He knew just how to whip a party into a frenzy. That’s what made him so popular with the girls, I guess. I know it’s what made him popular with me,” she added ruefully. “I figured he was some kind of God when we first met.”

“And why was that?” asked Odelia. “What made him so popular?”

She shrugged.“At a rave the DJ is God. That’s just how it is.”

“So that was his job? Being a DJ at these raves?”

“If you can call it a job. Nobody paid him. In fact Darryl was as poor as a church mouse. Poorer, probably. It was another reason I kicked him out. It took me a while, but then I realized I was dating a loser. It became obvious to me he’d never amount to anything. He had no goals, no ambitions,except to party all night, every night.”

Odelia glanced around, and she caught sight of a nice new mountain bike.“Is that yours?” she asked.

“Nah, that’s Darryl’s. I told him to clear out and take his junk with him, but he hadn’t gotten round to it yet.” She sighed. “That’ll teach me to date a DJ.”

“Do you know of anyone who might have held a grudge against Darryl?” asked Chase.

“A grudge? I thought you said he had an accident.”

“Just one of those things we have to ask,” said the dutiful cop.

“I don’t think he had enemies,” said Lucy with a frown. “I mean, everybody loved him, you know. He was Mister Popular. A loser, and broke, but Mr. Popular all the same.”

“Thanks, Lucy,” said Odelia finally, when no more questions occurred to her or Chase.

“What do you want me to do with his stuff?”

“Can’t you give it to his parents?”

“I never met his parents. I don’t even know who they are.”

“I’ll tell them to get in touch with you,” Chase suggested. “You can arrange for them to come and pick up Daryl’s stuff.”

“I guess that’s all right,” said Lucy as she dragged herself up from her own bean bag and shook Odelia and Chase’s hands. Then she glanced down at Max and Dooley. “Do you always take your cats along with you, Miss Poole?”

“Yeah, they like to follow me around,” said Odelia with a smile.

“Just like Darryl,” said Lucy wistfully. “He liked to follow me around everywhere. Until he met the other girl. I guess he started following her around, and look where it got him.”

Chapter 20

Dooley and I were fortunate enough to be able to follow Odelia and Chase around as they talked to this and that person. Now I know talking to suspects and witnesses and generally conducting what is termed a police investigation isn’t everybody’s cup of tea, but it just so happens it’s my cup of tea, and lucky for me it’s Dooley’s cup of tea, too.

I’m not sure why I enjoy it so much, for a large portion of these interviews simply consist of digging into people’s private lives and eliciting all kinds of little-known clues as to their personal existence. So maybe that’s it: I’m simply one of those nosy individuals who like to know everything about other people, and Dooley is exactly the same way. It’s probably why he loves watching those daytime soaps so much. Basically soaps give you a peek into people’s personal lives, even though those people are all larger than life, and their lives a lot more interesting than the lives ofregular folks.

At any rate, Odelia’s and Chase’s investigations had taken us to a man named Todd Park, who had been called the head raver by Darryl Farmer’s former girlfriend. In fact Mr. Park was the organizer of those raves that her ex-boyfriend liked to DJ at so much.

I had expected Mr. Park to live in a dump, but in actual fact he lived in a neat little condo in a new development near the beach. From his balcony we even had a very nice view of that same beach, and the ocean, and I noticed the presence of a pair of binoculars on a wrought-iron table indicating that Todd liked to keep an eye out for possible drowning victims—or girls dressed in string bikinis, as the case may be.

Todd wasn’t a young man. In fact I would have put him closer to fifty than forty, but he was probably young at heart, or at least liked to present himself that way. He was dressed in designer jeans, designer T-shirt depicting a stylized weed symbol, and designer sneakers, and with his long ponytail and neatly trimmed beard he looked more like the owner of a Silicon Valley startup than a ‘head raver,’ whatever that was.

“So you knew Darryl well,” said Odelia. We were all seated in the nice salon of Todd’s neat condo, the humans on leather couches and Dooley and me on the hardwood floor.

“Yeah, Darryl was my right-hand man,” said Todd, who looked actually stricken at the news that his friend had died. “He was a great DJ and him and me set up Rave Central together three years ago or something. He thought the kinds of clubs he used to play were charging people through the nose,and wanted to offer a cheaper alternative for people who lived to party—our kind of people. And that’s when Rave Central was born. We organized our parties in empty factories, under bridges, in houses targeted for demolition, cargo boats, and of course out in the woods, when the weather permitted.”

“Also in office buildings under construction?” asked Chase.

“No, that we didn’t do. Too dangerous,” he explained. “And also we didn’t want to attract too much attention, or get in trouble with the law.”

“So three nights ago,” said Chase, “did you also organize one of your raves?”

Todd thought back for a moment, then nodded.“Yep. Three nights ago we were in the woods. I remember because it was one of the best nights we ever had. Very large attendance, and Darryl really was on fire that night—played one of his best sets ever.”

“Was he there with his girlfriend Suzy Bunyon?” asked Odelia.

“Suzy, yeah. Well, Darryl had lots of girlfriends,” said Todd with a grin. “But yeah, he was with Suzy that night. I saw her pop up behind the turntables a couple of times.”

“You do realize Suzy is underage?” asked Chase sternly.

“Um… no, actually I didn’t know that,” said the rave organizer, shifting a little uncomfortably. “She told me she was twenty-three.”

“She’s seventeen.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of these girls that went for Darryl big time were very young. And it’s not as if we checked their ID at the door or something,” he added apologetically.

“So when you were out in the woods the other night, you didn’t happen to notice anything out of the ordinary?” asked Odelia.

“Like what?”

“Like this man,” said Chase, and showed Todd a drawing of John Doe a sketch artist had created.

“Nah,” he said after a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this guy. Why? Something happened that I should know about?”

“This man was found dead,” Chase explained. “And according to what we now know he was shot and killed the same night you were out partying close by.”

Todd shook his head.“I’m afraid I don’t know anything about that. We’re a peace-and fun-loving community, and we don’t go in for violence in any way, shape or form.” He shifted again. “So what happened to Darryl if I may ask? How did he die?”

“As far as we can ascertain he accidentally fell to his death in an elevator shaft that was under construction,” said Chase.

“An elevator shaft? Where was this?”

“A new office building on Carmel Street.”

“Carmel Street. What was he doing out there?”

“That’s what we’d like to know. Do you have a recent address for Mr. Farmer?”

“Well, he used to live at Lucy’s place.”

“Lucy Hale.”

Todd nodded.“Yeah, but she kicked him out last month, and he’d been shacking up with me, and intermittently couch surfing with some other friends.”

“He didn’t come home last night?”

Todd shook his head.“He was supposed to, but then Darryl liked to live moment to moment, you know. I just figured he’d met a friend and had decided to spend the night there. I wasn’t too worried until this morning. We were supposed to go over the playlist for tonight, and when he didn’t show up I tried to get him on the phone. No response.”

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Park?” asked Chase.

“Well, I’m a banker, actually. I work for Capital First Bank.” He smiled when he saw the looks of surprise on Odelia and Chase’s faces. “Yeah, banker by day, raver by night. I know it looks a little weird, but I like it this way. I give my days to the establishment, and my nights to the anti-establishment. It seems like a nice balance.”

Odelia and Chase got up, a clear sign the interview was over.“Oh, one more question,” said Chase. “Before I forget. Did your friend own a car?”

“No, he didn’t. Darryl didn’t believe in cars. He used his bike to get around.”

“But then how did he get his DJ material all the way out to those woods?”

“I took care of the logistics. Darryl just showed up to do this thing.” He smiled. “Here, I’ll show you a clip of Darryl in action.” He took out his phone and for the next five minutes we were treated to a medley of the best of Darryl Farmer—mainly techno music as far as I could tell. Not exactly my thing, but Odelia and Chase seemed to enjoy it.

“What is that noise, Max?” asked Dooley after a moment.

“It’s music, Dooley!” I said, yelling to be heard over the loud noise.

“Music? I thought it was a fire drill!”

“It’s called techno music!” I yelled. “Or house!”

“Whose house?”

“No, the name of the music genre is house!”

“I don’t get it!”

And frankly neither did I. And consequently I was very happy to get out of there!

Chapter 21

“So what do we have?” asked Odelia as she checked her notes while Chase did the same. They were in Chase’s office at the precinct, going over their recent discoveries and trying to figure out where they stood. “We have a John Doe found in the woods—shot at close range with a .38 caliber firearm. We have Karl Bunyon out and about in those same woods that same night, dumping his wife’s cat and a bunch of other cats and claiming he didn’t see or hear anything suspicious. And we have a rave, also in those woods, attended by dozens of ravers, amongst whom is Bunyon’s stepdaughter Suzy, and DJ’d by Darryl Farmer, Suzy’s boyfriend, who just happened to be found dead at the bottom of an elevator shaft two nights later.” She looked up. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, you summed it up pretty well,” said Chase. “So what do you think the connection is?”

“I think it just might be that Darryl Farmer saw something he wasn’t supposed to see—the killer maybe—and that he was shoved down that elevator shaft for his trouble.”

“We can’t rule out that it was an accidental death,” Chase pointed out.

“No sign of a struggle?”

“Nothing to indicate he met a violent death. Though as you say, he could have been pushed. It’s impossible to say without any witnesses.”

“What I don’t like is this connection between Karl Bunyon and Darryl.”

“Suzy Bunyon.”

Odelia nodded.“What are the chances of Darryl being at the same place at the same time as Karl’s stepdaughter, and of two people ending up dead soon after?”

“Slim.”

“Very slim.”

“But what’s the connection?”

“Frankly I have no idea, Chase. But it’s too much of a coincidence if you ask me.”

“No, I think you’re absolutely right. As I see it our friendly neighborhood catnapper was out in the woods that night, dumping his wife’s cats, and he was caught by John Doe. So he shot him and buried him to prevent the truth from coming out. But unfortunately for him Darryl Farmer, his stepdaughter’s boyfriend, also ran into him, recognized him, and so he decided that Darryl had to die, too, for being another annoying witness.”

“This is all speculation, you do realize that, right?”

“Oh, sure, but do you have a better explanation?”

“None,” she had to admit.

“One dead body could be explained away as an unfortunate coincidence, but a second one?” Chase got up. “I think I’m going to get myself a nice arrest warrant and talk to our catnapper again, only this time not in the comfort of his own home but here at the precinct. And I’m going to take a closer look at the man’s house and place of business.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to turn anything up?”

“You know? A good cop follows his instincts, and right now my instinct is to go after Karl Bunyon—big time.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

While Chase and Odelia were in conference inside, Dooley and I had decided to take a little break from the investigative efforts and go for a walk instead. I may be a curious kitty, and so is Dooley, but being subjected to that impromptu rave party had frankly rattled me, and I needed some peace and quiet and fresh air to boot! Also, my ears were still ringing, and my nose was twitching. I guess I’m not cut out to be a raver. Or a DJ.

And so it was that Dooley and I were roaming around outside, and soon found ourselves circling the benches and trees on Town Square, waiting for Odelia to emerge from her conference with new and fresh instructions.

And as we took our sojourn under a nearby tree and enjoyed a lie-down, who did we happen to see but our friend the head raver, in the company of… Suzy Bunyon!

The pink-haired minx was crying profusely, and Todd Park, his beefy arm around her shoulder, was doing his utmost to console her. And since there seemed to be no danger of Todd bringing out his DJ set and turning Town Square into the scene of one of his raves, Dooley and I decided to move a little closer and see if we could pick up what they were discussing.

“But what happened, Todd? He was fine yesterday, and now suddenly he’s dead!”

“I don’t know, Suzy. All I know is what the police told me: he had an accident and fell down an elevator shaft.”

“But what was he doing out there?”

“I have no idea. He wasn’t meeting you by any chance, was he?”

“Definitely not,” said the girl, wiping at her eyes with a paper tissue helpfully supplied by the banker-slash-raver. “You don’t think he was out there with some other girl, do you?”

“I don’t know, Suzy.”

“If he was, you would tell me, right?” she asked, giving him a slightly suspicious look. “I know he was your best friend, but you have to tell me the truth, Todd. If he was cheating on me with some bimbo, I have a right to know.”

“He wasn’t cheating on you, Suzy. If he was, I would have known about it. Darryl and I had no secrets from each other.”

“I don’t know,” she said, sniffling. “Darryl was always so popular. It made me feel very insecure and he knew that.”

“You were the only one for him, Suzy, I swear.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said, but you know what he was like. He left Lucy for me, and when he did my friends all told me that soon it would be my turn. I’d find myself in the same position and I’d discover he was cheating on me with some other girl.”

“Look, I have no idea what happened, all right? But it was an accident. So he must have been out there for some reason, and it was dark, and he missed a step and fell in. That’s all I know.”

“He could have been scouting the place, I suppose,” she said doubtfully.

“He could have, although we always said we’d never do construction sites. Too dangerous. But then who knows what he was thinking. Darryl liked to live on the edge.”

“He did. That’s what I loved about him. And now he’s de-ea-ea-ea-ead!”

“She seems really sad, Max,” said Dooley as Todd took out more paper tissues and handed them to the crying teenager.

“Yeah, she does,” I said.

“So at least she didn’t kill him.”

“No, at least there’s that,” I said, as this case was starting to look a little opaque in my opinion.

“You do think he was murdered, don’t you, Max?”

“I don’t know, Dooley. So far it looks like an accident, but then you never know.”

“If it was an accident, it’s a very big coincidence that the stepdaughter of the man who was out in those woods was dating the dead man,” said Dooley, causing me to regard him with mounting admiration.

“Exactly what I was thinking, Dooley.”

“It’s all very confusing,” my friend said.

“Of course it could all be unconnected. The dead man in the woods, and the dead DJ.”

Dooley cut me a knowing look.“Max, how long have we been helping Odelia solve these mysteries?”

“Um, a long time?” I ventured.

“And how many times has something like this turned out to be a simple coincidence?”

“Um, never?”

“So I think we both know this won’t be a coincidence either.”

He was right, of course. But then how did it all fit together? That was what I’d like to know.

Chapter 22

And since we couldn’t exactly make heads or tails of the whole thing, and when Odelia finally emerged from her meeting with Chase and told us she was going into the office to work on some of her articles and we were free to do as we pleased, we decided to head on home. Sometimes the best thing you can do to solve amystery is to do exactly nothing. No, that’s not entirely true: the best thing is to take a step back, and let things stew for a while.

Something was definitely stewing when we arrived home, for a large container stood parked in front of Marge and Tex’s place, and workers were walking in and out pushing wheelbarrows loaded up with what looked like debris and dumping them into the container.

“Are Marge and Tex redecorating, Max?” asked Dooley as we sat taking in the scene for a few moments before venturing inside.

“I don’t know, Dooley, but it certainly looks that way.”

But since the front of the house looked a little dangerous for two small cats such as ourselves to pass through those front lines, we decided to circle around and attack the thing from the rear, always a good strategy in times of war—or house renovations.

But the back of the house was even worse, and the kitchen was unrecognizable: workers were pounding with very big pneumatic hammers at the wall that divides the kitchen from the living room, and already large holes had been created. So either this was a rave, judging from the sound those jackhammers made, or something even worse!

“They’re destroying the whole house, Max!” said Dooley.

“Looks that way,” I agreed, equally annoyed that nobody had bothered to send us the memo that our home was going to be a construction site for the foreseeable future.

And then we saw Gran, who stood at the heart of all the hubbub, a yellow hard hat placed on her head, and a dust mask in front of her face. She was discussing something with a very large and burly man, who also had a hard hat on his head, and was dressed in blue coveralls. From time to time he yelled something to the other people destroying Marge and Tex’s nice house, and then he resumed his conference with Gran.