e9c12ac8d703d9a536f23183edf8b22c

“Maybe they didn’t know. Guys like that don’t exactly like to make their travel plans known to the whole world. No, yeah, the guy arrived late last night. Wants to meet the Wynns and thank them personally for finding the stone. He’s staying at the Star—apparently renting a suite on the top floor for him and however many of his wives he decided to bring along on this trip.” He tugged at his nose. “I just hope no nutters get it into their nut to camp out in front of the hotel hoping to catch a glimpse of the Sheikh or, worse, decide to try and shoot the guy.”

“Shoot the guy? Why would anyone want to shoot the guy?”

“Because that’s what people do!” said the Chief, throwing up his hands. “They like to shoot at stuff, just because they can. Now why are you here? Did we have a meeting? I can’t remember.”

“I’m here to talk about the investigation into the disappearance and recovery of the Pink Lady. I want to find out how that diamond got into that safe deposit box at the Capital First Bank.”

“Uh-huh. Okay. So I talked to the bank—”

“And they told you that that safe belonged to Craig Bantam.”

The Chief stared at his niece.“How…”

She smiled.“Oscar Godish told me.”

“Who’s…”

“The Sheikh’s insurance guy. Works for a company called Milestone Partners.”

“Okay. So your Mr. Godish is correct. The safe deposit box was registered to a Craig Bantam. Now, Mr. Bantam died a couple of years ago, but he had a daughter, and that daughter has kept on paying for that safe, which is why your best bet would be to talk to the daughter. I’d do it myself, but nobody has asked me to investigate, and frankly I don’t have the time or the manpower to launch a full-scale investigation into that darned rock. Honestly I’ll be glad to be rid of the thing.”

“No worries, Uncle. I’ve got plenty of time, and the best thing is that nobody has to tell me to investigate this strange business. Iwant to investigate it—in fact I can’t think of anything else!”

“Good for you,” grumbled her uncle. “And if this Bantam woman gives you any grief, just flash them this badge.” And he pushed a small badge across his desk in Odelia’s direction.

Odelia stared at it for a moment.“What’s this?”

“I just thought I’d make it official that you’re a police consultant—not a cop, mind you, but still working for me.”

“Why, thanks,” she said, and looked extremely touched by this sign of trust.

“Oh, and also there’s this,” said Uncle Alec, and slipped an envelope across the stable, following the same trajectory as the badge.

Odelia frowned as she checked the contents of the envelope.“What…”

“If you’re going to be an official police consultant, you’re going on the payroll. On a freelance basis.”

“But… this is too much,” said Odelia, probably the first time in the history of the world anyone had said that after receiving remuneration for services rendered.

“It’s fine. I discussed it with Charlene, and considering all that you’ve done for this town, we think it’s only fair. And now you better scram, honey. I’ve got a ton of work, a Sheikh to protect from the crazies, and I don’t even know where to start!”

“Uncle Alec?” said Dooley. “When do we get our badges as official consultant’s consultants?”

“And our paycheck?” I added. “You can pay in kibble—we don’t mind.”

Odelia smiled, but decided not to translate our words this time. Her uncle had enough on his plate already. And besides, have you ever seen a cat wear a badge? Where would they even pin it!

23

“Don’t you think you should have told Uncle Alec about what happened with Johnny and Jerry last night?” I asked once we were back in the car.

“No, I don’t,” said Odelia. “We gave our word we wouldn’t tell my uncle, and I intend to keep it.”

“Do you really believe they’ll go out of their way to investigate what happened to that diamond?”

“You never know, Max. Something I learned from my mom: she always sees the good in people. Maybe Johnny and Jerry will surprise us.”

“They definitely surprised your parents when they broke into their bedroom last night.”

We were on the road to Craig Bantam’s daughter, Craig being the man who rented that safe deposit box, and I wondered what we’d discover. This diamond business was easily as baffling as any mystery I’d ever encountered, and so far I couldn’t see where it would lead.

“We saw Johnny and Scarlett kissing on a bench,” Dooley announced. “Do you think that’s part of his investigation, Odelia?”

Odelia looked thoroughly surprised by this development.“Johnny and Scarlett? No way.”

“Oh, yes,” I said with grim satisfaction. “So it looks like our boys aren’t exactly taking their investigation seriously.”

“He could be investigating Scarlett,” Dooley said. “And hoping she will give up a few clues.”

“Scarlett will give up something, all right,” said Odelia, “but it won’t be clues.”

“It might be a clue how to get into her—”

“Max!” said Odelia.

“—confidence!” I finished. “She is, after all, Gran’s best friend, so maybe this is all part of a scheme to get their hands on that stone somehow.”

“If it is, they’re barking up the wrong tree, since by now that stone is safe and sound in the hands of the Sheikh.”

Just then, Odelia’s phone chimed, and she placed an earbud into her ear, then pressed a little button. “Odelia Poole.”

Unfortunately we couldn’t hear what was being said, but we could of course follow the conversation by listening to Odelia’s side of it, which spoke volumes. “Yes, I personally delivered the Pink Lady into the hands of Oscar Godish and Dwayne Late,” she said, then listened for a moment, before saying, “They wereat the house maybe an hour ago—two hours, tops.” More talk was going on at the other end of the conversation, then Odelia cried, “Are you serious?!” and turned to face me in the rearview mirror.

“Looks like something’s wrong,” I told Dooley.

“Probably Johnny and Jerry. Have you noticed, Max, that often when something goes wrong, those two are involved?”

“I’m not so sure it’s them this time.”

“Of course,” said Odelia. “No, I understand, Mr. Maroun. Absolutely.” When she finally disconnected, she just stared before her for a few moments, then said, “The Pink Lady’s gone missing again.”

“What do you mean? Did those two guys lose it?”

“No, looks like they’re the ones that took it. That was Sharif Maroun on the phone, the Sheikh’s right-hand man. Late and Godish were supposed to deliver the diamond to the hotel half an hour ago but they never showed up. They’ve tried calling but they’ve gone off the grid. So they calledMilestone Partners and turns out Godish sent in his resignation this morning. He no longer works for them. And as far as Dwayne Late is concerned, far from being the world’s foremost diamond expert, he’s one of Godish’s contacts—an ordinary jeweler from Queens.” She sighed. “Looks like we’ve been had, boys. Played for suckers.”

“But why? Why would they take a million-dollar diamond?” asked Dooley. Odelia actually turned her head to give him a look, and so did I. After a few moments, the penny dropped. “Oh.”

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

She shrugged.“They’re not blaming me. I did the right thing. They should have been more careful—or Milestone Partners. Anyway, they’ve called my uncle, and the police are looking into it.”

“No scoops, no snoops,” I said, reiterating the words of the insurance guy. “Looks like he really played us.”

Odelia looked distinctly unhappy, but since there wasn’t anything she could do right now, she pressed on in the direction of the house where Craig Bantam’s daughter lived, and five minutes later was ringing that lady’s bell, Dooley and I at her feet as usual, willing to lend any assistance we could. We were, after all, unbadged consultant’s consultants and we took our jobs seriously.

“Mrs. Bantam?” asked Odelia the moment the door swung open.

“Bantam is my maiden name,” said the woman. “These days I go by my married name—Fossard.”

“My name is Odelia Poole, and I’m a civilian consultant with the local police department. We’re investigating the Pink Lady diamond. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it?”

The woman who stood before us was of the slightly rumpled kind, with a thick crop of dark hair, a round face, and dressed in a sweater and jogging pants. She looked as if we had caught her engaged in some sort of strenuous activity, since her cheeks were flushed, and a sheen of sweat covered her brow.

“Of course I’ve heard of it,” she said cheerfully. “It’s all people are talking about. Come in.” And as she led us inside, she continued, “I was just doing my workout routine, so you came at the right time.” She grinned. “Any excuse to take a break from that torture machine is fine with me.”

We found ourselves in a cozy living room, with plenty of throw pillows covering several couches placed strategically in front of a large-screen television. Posters of ABBA bedecked the walls, and framed pictures of the four members of the group covered every available surface, from the display cabinet to the sideboard.

“I’m a big ABBA fan,” she explained when she followed Odelia’s look. “I think they’re just great. I keep hoping they’ll get back together and play a concert.” She gestured to the white leather couch. “Take a seat. Can I offer you anything? I have ABBA tea, ABBA coffee, ABBA lemonade, ABBA cookies…”

“ABBA coffee will be fine,” said Odelia, who’s a big coffee drinker. “And maybe water for my cats. It doesn’t have to be ABBA water,” she quipped.

“Oh, but I have ABBA water,” said Mrs. Fossard. “It’s more bubbly than regular water and tastes sweeter.”

“Thanks,” I said gratefully when moments later a dish of water was placed on the floor for my and Dooley’s enjoyment. She was right, by the way. It was sweeter.

“So what’s this all about?” she asked as she sank into an armchair with visible relish. The music blasting from the speakers was of course ABBA, and she now turned down the volume.

“So you know all about the Pink Lady turning up on the beach the day before yesterday, right?” asked Odelia, scooting forward on the couch and causing it to make squeaky noises.

“Absolutely. Imagine looking for seashells and finding a precious diamond instead. Oh, the joy that little girl must have felt!”

“So I take it you don’t know about the safe?”

“Safe?” asked the woman. She took a nibble from one of her ABBA cookies, then seemed to think better of it and ate it whole. In other words a lady after my own heart.

“I like a woman with an appetite, Max,” said Dooley, who’d noticed the same thing.

“Me, too,” I said. I’d taken a great liking to Caroline Fossard, though the fact that she’d placed a small dish with liver p?t? next to the water might have had something to do with that.

“Well, the Pink Lady was stolen from the Capital First Bank last year, and according to the information from the bank manager it was actually stolen from your safe.”

The woman gawked at Odelia.“My safe? What do you mean?”

“I mean the safe the Pink Lady was stolen from is registered in your name, Mrs. Fossard.”

“Oh, dear. You mean there was something of actual value in that safe? I thought it was just a pile of old junk!”

“I’m sorry—I don’t understand.”

“I’ll tell you what happened. My dad took that safe, but he put it in my name for some reason. But so eighteen years ago he died, and as far as he’d told Mom the only thing he kept in that safe were some old work documents and unimportant stuff. She still wanted to take a look, of course, after he died, but discovered that Dad hadn’t left her the key to the safe—he’d died unexpectedly, you see—or the combination. So she went to the bank to ask them to open it and they said that since it was in my name she had to have the key. Otherwise they’d have to drill out the lock and replace it, and that would set her back three hundred bucks. So she never bothered, and then more or less forgot all about it.”

“But you kept on paying for that safe. That must have cost you a lot of money over the years.”

“Oh, no. You see, it was all paid in advance. Dad had arranged all that, and so Mom figured that when the money ran out, the bank would open the safe and that would be that.”

“So the years passed and…”

“And some idiots burgled the bank, and stole everything they could lay their grubby little hands on. So I thought, tough luck, but I wasn’t going to weep over a bunch of old documents.”

“Only it wasn’t some old documents. It was a precious diamond that’s been missing for years,” said Odelia.

“But… how in the world did my dad get a hold of a diamond?”

“What line of work was he in?”

“He was an engineer. He worked for Spark, a company that designs and builds hydroelectric power plants.”

“Hydroelectric power plants,” said Odelia, musing on this for a moment.

“Yeah, he traveled all over the world to build those plants. He built them on every continent, and was very proud of what he did. When I was little me and my mom would travel with him to the most exotic places. But then when I got older they decided it was best for me to stay put and go to school. So Dad just came and went, sometimes staying away for weeks at a time. Though he tried to make sure to be home for all the important stuff.”

“How did he die?”

“Trouble with his ticker. He’d had a cardiac arrest on one of his trips, and hadn’t been the same since. Doctors told us that if it happened again, it might be fatal, and so he decided to take early retirement, and spend whatever time he had left with his family. And he did. He lived another ten years. But then he had another episode. It all went really quickly so he didn’t suffer.”

“Did he ever spend time in Khemed?” I asked.

Caroline Fossard smiled down at me.“Oh, how cute is that? It’s almost as if he’s trying to tell us something.”

“Yeah, cats are amazing creatures,” Odelia agreed. “So what I wanted to ask you: did your father ever spend time in Khemed?”

Caroline drew her brows up into a frown, and thought for a moment.“I’m not sure…” She swiftly got up and disappeared into the next room. We heard a drawer open and close, and moments later she returned with what looked like a large ledger and sat down next to Odelia, placing the book on the coffee table, which also held an ABBA coffee-table book. “Mom kept this,” she explained. “She wrote down the dates and destinations of every place Dad ever visited, and when he came home, he pasted pictures in here for me. It was like our family album, so we always knew where dad was when he wasn’t here.” She popped a pair of reading glasses on her noseand opened the book in the middle. “When did you say the Pink Lady disappeared?”

“Well, nobody seems to know for sure, but Laura Burns, the woman whom it was given to died in 1986, and as far as I can tell the diamond hasn’t surfaced since.”

“1986…” said Caroline, leafing through thick pages, festooned with pictures and airplane tickets and other memories of her dad’s travels. “Here we are,” she said. “In 1986 my dad was in Sweden to oversee work on a new power plant, and then later in the year he was sent to…” Her jaw dropped as she turned the page and stared at the inscription. “Khemed,” she said. “September to October 1986. He even took pictures.” Odelia scooted over to take a look. “See? He kept his hotel bill. The International Royal in Wadesdah, which is the capital of Khemed.”

Odelia held up her phone.“Can I…”

“Sure, go ahead,” said Caroline, who’d put a hand to her face and was shaking her head.

Odelia took a couple of pictures of the pages where Caroline’s father had documented his stay.

“I don’t get this. So my dad took a diamond that didn’t belong to him, and then kept it in a safe at the bank all these years and never told us? But why? Why would he do a thing like that?”

“Maybe he needed money?”

“So why didn’t he sell it? Why steal it and then keep it?”

“Maybe because he discovered he couldn’t sell it? It is a pretty famous diamond. Stones like that are very hard to sell. Nobody wants to touch them.”

But Caroline shook her head decidedly.“My dad wasn’t a thief. He just wasn’t. If he took that stone, there must have been a good reason, cause he sure as heck wouldn’t have stolen it.”

“Who’s that?” asked Odelia, as she pointed to a particular picture in the album.

“Oh, that’s Ken. Kenneth Cesseki. He was my dad’s go-to guy—an assistant of sorts. Real jack-of-all-trades. Ken always traveled with my dad. He was a company man. Not an engineer like my dad, but more like a fixer. He arranged the visas, and made sure the paperwork was in order and liaised with local authorities, that kind of thing.”

“Is he still…”

“Alive? Oh, yes. Though I’m not sure where he hangs out these days. Back when Dad was still with us, they used to meet up all the time, to talk about the good old days. I think Dad once told us he lived in Boston.” She tapped her lower lip. “I could always call Spark’s HR department. He might even still be on the payroll. Guys like Ken never retire. They just keep on going, like the Energizer Bunny.”

“Oh, please do,” said Odelia. “I just discovered that the diamond was stolen a second time—and I really need to find out what’s going on, and the best way is to dig into its past.”

“I’ll call them right away,” said Caroline, and got up to retrieve her phone. She disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, and we heard her talking to someone.

“Maybe her dad was a crook?” Dooley suggested. “And he simply never told his family. Just like Tex never told his family that he doesn’t want to be a doctor anymore.”

Odelia winced.“Wait till Mom hears about this.”

“Oh, but it’s a secret, Odelia,” said Dooley. “So you can’t tell your mom.”

“I’ll tell her to keep it a secret,” she said.

“Well, then I guess it’s all right,” said my friend after giving this some thought. “As long as it’s a secret, it’s fine.”

Caroline had returned and handed a piece of paper which held the pictures of the four members of ABBA to Odelia.“This is his number. As it turns out he retired last year, though he still does odd jobs for the company from time to time as a freelancer.” She smiled. “Like I said, guys like Ken never retire.”

Odelia thanked Caroline profusely, and the latter made her promise to let her know if she found out what had happened to that diamond.

“Even if it means that my dad committed a crime,” she said as we were standing in the door. “I mean, I like to think he was an honest man, and I really hope that he was, but how well do you really know a person, right? And this is too much of a coincidence to be ignored.”

“As soon as I find out what happened, I’ll come and tell you personally,” said Odelia, pressing the woman’s hand warmly.

Caroline looked a little discombobulated, which wasn’t surprising. She’d just discovered that her dad, whom she obviously had loved and admired, might have been involved in the theft and smuggle of an extremely precious stone. You’d be discombobulated for less!

24

“I don’t understand what she sees in that guy,” said Harriet as she directed a look of annoyance in the direction of the canoodling couple.

“Like you said, he’s butch and built like a bull,” said Brutus.

They’d been taking a stroll around the neighborhood, wondering where Max and Dooley had gone off to this time, and had ended up taking a breather in a small patch of greenery the town had provided for the weary wanderer on the corner of a nearby street. Only they hadn’t had the piece of downtown greenery to themselves, but rather had discovered they were sharing it with none other than Scarlett Canyon and… Johnny.

The couple—for that was what they apparently had become in the short space of time since their first meeting—were kissing up a storm, and it seemed obvious that they really liked each other. No, make that really,really liked each other.

“He’s big and strong but he’s also a crook, Brutus,” Harriet reminded her mate. “And as far as I know Scarlett is no gangster’s moll.”

“But he’s not a gangster anymore, is he? He’s reformed now.”

“Yeah, that’s why he broke into our house last night, because he’s reformed. No, Brutus, the man is a crook, and all I can think is that this is a way for him to get his hands on that stone.”

“The diamond? But Scarlett doesn’t have it, does she?”

“No, she doesn’t, but she might possess information about how he can get it.”

“Oh, Johnny,” said Scarlett in a soft purr. “You’re such a great kisser.”

“No, you’re the good kisser, Scarlett,” said Johnny.

“So maybe we can take this inside?”

“I wish I could, but me and Jer are staying in a real dump. Not the kind of place I could take a lady like yourself.”

“So maybe we can go to my place?”

“Do you really think we should?” asked Johnny, suddenly reluctant.

“Why, don’t you want to see where I live?”

“Oh, absolutely,” said the former crook. He gazed at her reverently. “This is like a dream come true, Scarlett. It’s just that…”

“Just what, Johnny?” said Scarlett, that purr in her voice having much the same effect on Johnny as Harriet’s purr had had on Dooley. The prissy Persian recognized the technique, and for some reason resented Scarlett for employing it to such great effect.

“I promised Jerry I’d help him find this rock, see, and he’s probably waiting for me.”

“You mean the Pink Lady?”

“Yeah. Marge wants us to find out how it ended up in that safe we burgled a couple of months ago.”

“Oh, Johnny, you lead such a fascinating life,” Scarlett cooed.

“I can promise you right here and right now, Scarlett, that this is all behind me now. I’m done with the life of crime. It’s the straight and narrow for me, I swear.”

“I think it’s kinda sexy to date a gangster,” said Scarlett, eyeing her new conquest from beneath lowered lashes.

“Date?” said Johnny huskily. “Did you say date?” He seemed to have grown a few inches, which made him even bigger than the man mountain he already was.

“Well, do you want to date me, Johnny? Cause you just have to say the word and this girl is yours for the keeping.”

“Oh, Scarlett,” Johnny rasped. “Oh, Scarlett, Scarlett,” he added, in case she hadn’t heard him the first time. “Oh, Scarlett, Scarlett, Scarlett,” he croaked, this time clasping her hands in his. And then he was wrapping her into his arms and more kissing ensued.

“Yuck,” said Harriet. “I think it’s time we left these two lovebirds to themselves, don’t you?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Moving on, they happened to pass by the park, and decided to take a breather there. Harriet hoped they wouldn’t bump into more loved-up couples. She might be a true romantic at heart, but the last thing she needed right now were kissing couples. After the spectacle they’d just witnessed, the thought of humans kissing made her sick.

“I really don’t understand what the big deal is with kissing,” she said. “Personally I think it’s gross. Putting your tongue against the tongue of another person. Yuck.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty disgusting,” said Brutus, making a face.

“And besides, it’s very unhygienic. All that saliva that’s involved, and those bacteria. There should probably be a law against kissing. It’s a public health risk. I think it would be in the benefit of all of mankind if—say, what are those two doing there?”

She was referring to Dwayne Late and Oscar Godish, seated on a nearby park bench and talking animatedly with a third person, some blonde who looked familiar somehow. And then she had it.“Isn’t that the writer whose book Marge is reading?” She’d seen it lying on Marge’s nightstand.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Brutus.

“So what is she doing with those two guys?”

And then, before their very eyes, suddenly the shortest guy, the insurance man, took out a small box from his pocket, and handed it to the writer, who gratefully tucked it away into her purse!

“Hey, they’re handing the Pink Lady to that author woman!” said Harriet.

“Maybe she’s the Sheikh?”

“Don’t be stupid, Brutus. There are no women sheikhs. Besides, why would a sheikh meet in a public park to exchange diamonds? No, there’s something fishy going on.”

“So what do we do?”

“We don’t do anything. We just make sure they don’t see us, and we follow that diamond.”

“Good idea,” said Brutus approvingly.

Harriet smiled in spite of the shocking scene.“You know what this means, don’t you?”

“No, what?”

“That we might be able to best Max at his own game for once.”

Brutus’s face lit up with a smile of such wattage it probably could be seen from outer space. “Oh, my,” he said softly.

It had been far too long since they’d cracked a case, Max usually being the one who found the killer or solved the mystery, in spite of Harriet and Brutus’s best efforts. But not this time!

And so when finally the trio split up, with the insurance guy and the diamond expert going one way and the author lady going another, Harriet and Brutus decided to follow the money—or at least the diamond—and were soon tailing the author through the park, tails high, and making sure they stayed out of sight, just like real detectives would.

Their mission was suddenly complicated—or simplified—by the fact that they spotted another familiar figure reposing on a bench: Marge Poole!

25

Marge, who’d been relaxing with her new favorite book, suddenly started when a loud “Pshhhht!” sounded in her ear, immediately followed by, “Don’t turn around!”

“It’s us,” a second voice chimed in. “Harriet and Brutus!”

“Oh, hey, you guys,” she said as she placed down the book. “What’s with all the cloak and dagger stuff?”

“Don’t look now, Marge, but to your immediate right there’s that woman—the writer of that book you’re reading.”

So she glanced over ever so discreetly, and saw that Harriet was right: there was Loretta Gray, walking past with a certain briskness in her step, not looking left or right.

“Don’t scream, Marge, but she just took possession of the Pink Lady!” Harriet loud-whispered.

Marge had no intention of screaming—in fact it would have taken a lot more than this message for her to start hollering her head off, but still she couldn’t suppress a quick intake of breath. “The Pink Lady? But I thought Odelia and Chase were supposed to give it to the insurance people?”

“They did, and the insurance people just gave it to this lady.”

“So now we’re following her and trying to find out what’s going on,” Brutus added.

This time Marge did glance back, and saw that both cats were hiding in the bushes behind the bench.“I don’t get it. Why would the insurance people hand the diamond to Loretta Gray?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” said Harriet, “but my spider sense is tingling, which tells me that something is off.”

She smiled.“You have a spider sense?”

“Not really,” said Harriet with a shrug. “But I have feline intuition, which is probably even better.”

“Yeah, I have feline intuition, too,” said Brutus, “and plenty of alarm bells are going off in my head right now.”

“Okay, so maybe I’ll follow along with you guys. Cause I have to tell you that I don’t trust this woman either. When I talked to her yesterday she was acting very strange, and I’ve been reading her book, and she knows a lot of stuff that she couldn’t possibly know.”

“Like what?” asked Harriet as she and Brutus emerged from the bushes and the trio got going, following Loretta from a safe distance.

“Like the fact that Laura Burns, the Sheikh’s ninety-ninth wife, wasn’t well-liked by the Sheikh’s courtiers or by his ninety-eight other wives.”

“But why?” asked Harriet.

“Because she was deemed too western. Also, according to the book Laura was the only one of the Sheikh’s wives he actually was in love with.”

“He wasn’t in love with his other wives?” asked Brutus.

“No, he wasn’t. In Khemed the tradition is that families offer up one of their daughters to the Sheikh, and when he accepts, it brings great honor to the family.”

“So he collected wives like other people collect stamps?”

“More or less. Love doesn’t feature into the thing. It’s purely a business transaction.”

“Odd practice.”

“Odd?” said Harriet, peeved. “Medieval, you mean. In some countries people offer their best sheep or cow to the ruler, and in Khemed they offer women. It’s barbaric, that’s what it is.”

“Well, apparently this is all part of the tradition,” Marge continued. “At least it was until the Sheikh met Laura. According to the book he fell in love at first sight, and the feeling was mutual.”

“So a wedding out of love, huh? That’s better already,” said Harriet. “Though I don’t understand why she would marry a guy who already has ninety-eight other wives.”

“So what happened then?” asked Brutus.

“Well, the wedding was an amazing affair, it lasted ten days, and people came from all over the world to celebrate with the Sheikh and his wife.”

“Wives, plural,” said Harriet.

“And then things turned sour, right?” said Brutus. “The Sheikh locked her up and started treating her bad?”

“No, on the contrary. As the days passed, they grew ever closer together, and there was even talk that the Sheikh would send all of his other wives away, out of respect for Laura, which would have been revolutionary. She became pregnant very quickly, and gave birth to a lovely baby girl with curly golden hair, and it completed the happiness of the newlywed couple.”

“And then what happened?” asked Harriet eagerly.

“Then you came sneaking up on me from behind and told me to spy on the writer of the book,” said Marge with a smile.

“But you have to tell us how it ends!” said Harriet.

“Why don’t you ask that lady we’re following?” Brutus suggested. “I’m sure she’ll be able to tell you all about it—including why she took that diamond and what she’s planning to do with it.”

Loretta Gray had left the park, and was now walking along the sidewalk, Marge and her two cats still in tow, and gave no indication of being aware that she was being followed, which was just as well, as Marge was no professional detective, and she had the feeling that if Loretta just turned around, she would spot her immediately.

But lucky for her, the authoress just kept on walking, and soon was crossing the street. Marge decided to stay on her side of the street, and suddenly said,“I think I know where she’s going.”

“Where?” asked Harriet.

“The Star hotel.”

And lo and behold: the Star came into view, and as Marge had expected, Loretta entered the hotel.

“Do you think we should follow her in?” asked Brutus.

“If you want to, we can take it from here,” Harriet suggested.

“No, two cats will stand out like sore thumbs, no offense.”

“None taken,” said Harriet, though her expression told a different story. No one calls a Persian a sore thumb.

“What I mean is, everybody who sees you walk in can’t help but notice you, Harriet.”

“Oh, of course,” said Harriet, her tail, which had gone half-mast, now rising swiftly again.

“Maybe I better call my brother and tell him what we discovered.” But as Marge reached for her phone, suddenly she had a better idea.

26

Kenneth Cesseki may have lived in Boston once upon a time, but these days he had opted to move a little farther afield and now resided in lovely Thailand.

Odelia probably wouldn’t have minded going all the way to Thailand—she had, after all, fond memories of the time she’d participated as an undercover candidate on Passion Island, the well-known reality show—but thankfully modern technology made that unnecessary, and so we all sat in front of Odelia’s screen in her new home office, and found ourselves looking at Mr. Cesseki in person, dressed in a colorful T-shirt and ball cap, seated outside on what looked like a nice beach. There were even palm fronds waving at us from time to time, as if extending a formal invitation to visit soon.

Mr. Cesseki was a man of indefinite age. He could have been fifty, but he could also have been in his early seventies. He had one of those ruddy faces you get from spending half your life in hot climes with not a lot more in the form of protection against the sun’s rays than a hat and sunglasses. His skin had that leathery look that some crocodiles like to show off with.

“Hi there,” he said good-naturedly. “So you’re Odelia Poole? I’ve read your articles, Miss Poole.”

“Mrs. Poole,” Odelia corrected him with a smile. “I wasn’t aware I was famous all the way down to Thailand, Mr. Cesseki.”

“Just call me Ken. Well, Craig lived in Hampton Cove all his life, and he was a big Gazette reader, and I guess it rubbed off on me. It’s nice to keep up with the home front. When you’re living as far away from home as I am these days you tend to get homesick, and reading about daily life in such a nice and cozy place like Hampton Cove makes up for it to some extent. Almost like you’re there!”

“Thanks, Ken. That’s probably one of the nicest compliments anyone has ever paid me.”

“Well, it’s true, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels that way.”

“So the reason I’m calling you—I talked to Craig’s daughter Caroline, and she told me to get in touch with you.”

“Sweet Caroline. Did you know I used to dandle that little tyke on my knee once upon a time? I guess she’s all grown up now.”

“She certainly is.”

“So what did you wanna know?”

“I don’t know if you’ve followed the news, but a famous pink diamond turned up on our beach the other day. The Pink Lady.” She waited to see if the name rang a bell, and wasn’t disappointed. The man’s eyebrows shot up into his cap and practically knocked it off his head.

“The Pink Lady, huh? Well, I’ll be damned.”

“So you have heard about that particular diamond?”

“I’ll say that I have, Mrs. Poole.”

“Odelia, please. So Caroline told me that you and her dad used to work several projects around the world, and one particular project was in Khemed.”

“Oh, I remember it well. Fall of 1986 and Craig and I had been summoned by the Sheikh of Khemed. He wanted to build a dam on the Nabataean River to provide electricity to the countryside. So we landed there and we’re set up at one of those fancy hotels, the name of which escapes me right now, and set to work. Only we soon discovered there was a fly in the ointment in the form of the Sheikh’s right-hand guy, who had a little side project he wanted to interest us in.”

“A side project?” asked Odelia.

“This guy sure likes to talk, doesn’t he, Max?” Dooley commented.

“And a good thing, too,” I said. “Imagine if he didn’t want to talk. It would make our job a lot harder.”

“So what did he want?” asked Odelia.

“Well, so the guy comes to our hotel room one night, okay? And so we figured he wants to talk numbers. You know, look at the project and maybe get the ball rolling a little faster by cutting through some of that bureaucracy and red tape. But no, he had something completely different in mind. Turns out the Sheikh had recently gotten married to his hundredth or two-hundredth wife or something, and this guy clearly wasn’t happy with his boss’s choice of life partner. So he pretty much asked us to talk to the lady, and maybe try to convince her to come back with us.”

“Come back with you? I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, that makes two of us. Or three. We didn’t get what the guy was driving at either. But then it all became clear. Crystal clear, in fact. He wanted me and Craig to meet the lady, and have a chat with her at the hotel, ostensibly about the dam, but also about her home country. Turns out that even though she’d grown up in Khemed, her folks were actually American, and she’d gone to college in New York. And so the Sheikh’s man said the lady would love the pleasure of our company for some innocent reminiscing. You know, shoot the breeze a little, and talk about the good old days when she was a student in the West. So we said sure, send her along, and he did. The whole thing felt a little off, though, if you know what I mean, but then when you’re doing business in a country like that everything feels off, so it’s very hard to know if things are really off, or if that’s just the way they do things down there.”

“So you met Laura Burns?” asked Odelia, her attention riveted, as was ours, I have to say. The guy was a very good raconteur.

He now took a sip from an umbrella cocktail and continued. “So about an hour or so later the lady drives up—yeah, Laura Burns her name was—only the receptionist called up to our room—we were sharing a suite at this point, Craig and me—and said there was someone in the lobby who wanted to see us. So we said send her on up, figuring this was probably the Sheikh’s wife. And it sure was, and she was even more beautiful in person than in the pictures I’d seen.”

“And so what happened then?”

“Well, nothing happened, really. We talked about the States, and she asked us what was going on with this and that, and a good time was had by all. We talked about an hour or two, and then she left, very graciously thanking us for our time, and so we figured that was that. Another notch on our belts for the mutual benefit of the project. Cause there wasn’t a hair on our heads that thought anything untoward had happened.”

“Just a friendly conversation between two foreign contractors and the wife of the Sheikh.”

“Exactly! So we went to bed feeling pretty good about ourselves, only to be woken in the middle of the night by a persistent banging on the door of the suite. And even before we managed to open the door, it was busted open and an entire contingent of cops or soldiers or security people or whatever they call it down there came bursting into our room, and before we could ask what the hell was going on, they’re wrestled us to the floor, handcuffed us, put bags over our heads and were carting us off!”

“You were arrested?”

“Arrested, tried and kicked out of the country, all in the space of an hour, and in the middle of the night, no less.”

“But why?”

“We were hauled in front of some kind of judge, and as far as we understood from the court-appointed lawyer we were being charged with insulting the Sheikh. Turns out that it’s illegal for a so-called commoner to talk to any of the Sheikh’s wives. And not only had we talked to Laura, we’d been alone in a room with her, with not a single other person present, which was considered a crime. For a moment it looked as if we might be hung, drawn and quartered, but in the end the fact that the Sheikh really wanted that dam built saved our hides, and so we were exiled instead. Exiled never toset foot in Khemed ever again.”

“My God, that must have been terrible.”

“We used slightly stronger language to describe the experience, I can tell you.”

“But didn’t Laura know that it was illegal for her to associate with you?”

“She must have known, but either she threw caution to the wind, because she was so eager to talk to a couple of Americans, or she was misinformed. But that’s where our Khemed adventure ended, and not a high note either.”

“So what happened to Laura?”

“Well, it wasn’t long after that she died.”

“Jeez.”

“Yeah. So I have no idea if she was sick, but I can tell you that when we met her she was in great shape.”

“What was the official cause of death, do you know?”

“Nothing was communicated as such, but we heard through the grapevine that she’d suddenly gotten very ill, was taken to the hospital and died within a couple of hours.”

“Died from what?”

“No idea. You have to understand that Khemed is one of those countries where everything is hush-hush. So whatever really happened to her, we’ll probably never know.”

Odelia chewed on this for a moment while Ken took another sip from his umbrella drink.“So the thing is, Ken, that I’m investigating the Pink Lady, specifically how it ended up in Hampton Cove.”

“Oh, that’s right. You wanted to ask me about that diamond, didn’t you?”

“Yes, turns out that Craig kept it in a safe at the bank all these years, until the bank was burgled and the diamond was stolen, then lost again, only to be found by a little girl playing on the beach. Now I talked to Caroline, and she was as surprised as anyone that the Pink Lady would have beenin her dad’s safe. He’d told them the safe only contained some old documents and work stuff.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So do you have any idea how a diamond that used to belong to the wife of the Sheikh ended up in your colleague’s safe?”

Ken took off his ball cap and scratched his scalp at this point.“Well, now, that is a darn peculiar story, Odelia. And for the life of me I can’t tell you how Craig got his hands on that diamond.”

“Laura didn’t give it to you by any chance?”

“No, I can’t say that she did.”

“Was she wearing her engagement ring when she came to see you that day?”

“Honestly I wouldn’t know. I’m not the kind of guy who notices that kind of thing.” He pulled a funny face. “Ask me half an hour after this conversation what you were wearing and I’m sure I’ll draw a complete blank. She could have been wearing her ring, and it could have been that famous Pink Lady, but I didn’t pay attention and I’m pretty sure neither did Craig.”

“But somehow Craig must have come into possession of that diamond.”

“It sure looks that way. But I gotta tell you, Odelia, this comes as much as a surprise to me as it does to you and Caroline. How did Craig get a hold of that rock? It’s a real head-scratcher.”

“He never told you about it?”

“Nope. And to be honest, when we were arrested we were also searched, the both of us, and our luggage was confiscated, so we left that country with only the clothes on our backs and nothing more. Though later on our replacements did manage to get some of our stuff back, and also the plans we’d been working on.”

“But no diamond.”

“No diamond.”

Odelia thought for a moment.“This is such a baffling mystery, and I really want to get to the bottom of it.”

“Yeah, and I sincerely hope you do, and that you can tell me all about it when you manage to crack the code, so to speak.”

Odelia was clearly disappointed, but she hid it well.“Well, thank you for your time, Ken.”

“No sweat. There’s nothing much for me to do here, except to drink, party and be merry, and even though that sounds like something a lot of people would dream of, even paradise gets old after a while, Odelia, trust me.”

After the man had rung off, Odelia turned to us.“This is so odd, but did you also get the impression that he wasn’t telling us everything?”

“He definitely gave me the impression he was holding something back,” I agreed. “You, Dooley?”

“I think he was secretly in love with Laura and they were having an affair and that’s why he was kicked out of the country,” said Dooley. “Or maybe Laura had an affair with Ken and Craig both, and she didn’t know who to choose, and then her husband found out and had her killed and her body fed to the crocodiles.”

“I think your imagination is running away with you again, Dooley,” I said. “But that there’s something going on here that Ken didn’t want us to know, that’s obvious. I mean, how did Craig get his hands on that diamond without Ken knowing about it? That seems very unlikely.”

“Unlikely, but not impossible,” said Odelia. “Maybe Craig was up to something and didn’t want to tell his colleague about it.”

“Colleague and friend,” I pointed out. “They kept meeting up long after Craig had retired. That sounds like a firm friendship to me.”

Just then, Odelia’s phone rang, and she picked up with a cheery, “Hey, Mom what’s up?” She listened for a moment, then glanced down at us. “We’ll be there in five minutes.” The moment she’d disconnected, she said, “Mom says Loretta Gray has the Pink Lady, and she just walked into the Star hotel.”

“Let’s go,” I said.

“The plot thickens, doesn’t it, Max?” said Dooley

“It sure does, Dooley.”

27

We all met in front of the Star, and I have to admit that Marge had come up with a great plan of campaign.

“So we’ll go in and pretend to be Loretta’s biggest fans,” said Odelia, reiterating the plan.

“I don’t even have to pretend to be one of her biggest fans,” said Marge. “I actually am one of her biggest fans. Except for the part where she took that diamond, of course.”

“And while you get her autograph and keep her talking, I’ll snoop around. I like it, Mom. Simple and effective.”

“I didn’t know Marge had detective ambitions,” I told Harriet.

“Why, you’d be surprised by the talent we’ve got in-house,” our Persian friend said haughtily as she tilted her chin. “In fact it was our idea, wasn’t it, Brutus, to follow this diamond thief, and it was also us that recognized the insurance people in the first place, and saw them hand the diamond to this author-slash-thief.”

“Yeah, so if you want to give credit, it’s ours,” said Brutus. “Mine and Harriet’s.”

“Yes, Max, did you get that? This time all the credit for solving the mystery goes to me and Brutus and me and Brutus alone.”

“Oh, no, absolutely,” I said. “You did a great job, you guys.”

“We discovered something, too,” said Dooley.

“Whatever you discovered can’t be as big and enormous as what we discovered,” said Brutus.

“So what was it?” asked Harriet, carefully studying her nails.

“We talked to Ken Cesseki, who was Craig Bantam’s colleague in 1986, and he told us that he and Craig were arrested for talking to the Sheikh’s wife and kicked out of the country,” I said, summing up the conversation in as few words as possible, since both Marge and Odelia were raring to go in and do their thing.

Harriet frowned.“So how did his colleague get his hands on that diamond?”

I shrugged.“Ken claims he has no idea.”

“A likely story,” Harriet scoffed. “Let me tell you something, Max. If you’re going to interrogate a person, you need to use the proper technique, otherwise they’ll just lie to you and think they’re getting away with it—and it looks to me,” she added as she gave me a supercilious look, “that he actually did get away with it.”

“You should have waited for me and Harriet to be there,” said Brutus. “We would have seen right through the guy!”

“It’s very hard to put pressure on a person when you’re a cat,” I reminded my friends.

“And the conversation was all done through Skype,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, it’s even harder to put pressure on a person through Skype.”

“Ken lives in Thailand,” Dooley explained, “and likes to drink umbrella cocktails under a palm tree on the beach. But he says he’s bored of paradise and he wants to come home and spend time in Hampton Cove, which he called a cozy little town.”

“He didn’t actually say he wants to come home,” I said.

“No, but I’m sure that’s what he meant.”

“Oh, so now you’re putting words in other people’s mouths, are you?” said Harriet. “Way to go, Dooley.”

Dooley smiled widely.“Gee, thanks, Harriet. Coming from you that’s a big compliment.”

“I was being sarcastic,” said Harriet with a touch of acerbity.

“I don’t think Dooley gets sarcasm, do you, Dooley?” asked Brutus.

Dooley gave him a look of uncertainty.“What’s sarcasm, Brutus?”

But then it was time to get the show on the road, and so we followed Marge and Odelia into the hotel.

Once inside, Marge walked up to the front desk—she was in the lead now—and asked what room Loretta Gray was staying in. The pimply receptionist told her no Loretta Gray was staying at the hotel, so then it was Odelia’s turn. She joined her mom at the front desk, and whipped out her snazzy new police badge and immediately the kid’s eyeswent wide, blushing a pretty crimson under his pimples, then hastened to say, “Oh, you mean LorettaGray! She’s in room two-fourteen, detective… officer… sergeant?”

“Police consultant,” said Odelia in that officious voice your true cop likes to assume. It takes years of training at the police academy to master that particular tone of authority, but Odelia, even though she hadn’t spent a day at police academy, had the tone down pat, which just goes to show she’s an absolute natural at this cop thing.

And so moments later we were riding the elevator up to the second floor, and then were dawdling in front of room 214, Marge looking decidedly nervous now, even though it had been her plan in the first place.

“You do it,” she suddenly said, taking a step back from the brink. “I’m too nervous.”

“No, Mom, you’re the big fan—you have to do it.”

“You can be the fan, and I’ll be the one rifling through her things.”

“But I haven’t even read the book!”

“Oh, dear,” said Marge, chewing her bottom lip for a moment. Then she seemed to gather her courage, and raised her hand to knock, only to lower it again. “I’m going to screw this up. I just know it!”

“You’ll be fine. Forget that we’re here to get that diamond and just think of yourself as the fan that you are, meeting her big hero in the flesh for the first time.”

“But it’s not the first time. We met yesterday on the street in front of the library.”

“Even better. That means that first awkward moment is over with, and you can pick up where you left off.”

“We left off with her racing away in her car after I asked her some questions she didn’t like.”

“Oh, Mom,” Odelia groaned, and decided to take matters into her own hands and did the knocking for her mom.

“What did you do?!”

“I knocked on the door!”

“I’m out of here,” said Marge, and made to leave.

But then the door suddenly swung open and Loretta Gray appeared.“Marge?”

Marge quickly covered her nervousness with an engaging smile and said,“Loretta! Fancy meeting you here!”

“Oh, boy,” Brutus muttered next to me.

Dooley, who’d been studying a spot on the carpet, asked me if I thought it was Nutella or jam or blood.

“What are you doing here?” asked Loretta, as her eyes flitted from Marge to Odelia down to the four cats staring up at her—well, three cats, since Dooley was still studying that spot and now gave it a tentative lick.

“I think it’s jam,” he said.

“Don’t lick weird stuff on the carpet, Dooley,” I told him.

“It’s not weird, it’s jam.”

“So I forgot to ask you for your autograph yesterday,” said Marge, finally rallying round. She held up the voluminous tome called The Sheikh’s Passion and practically thrusted it at the writer.

“I’m Marge’s daughter,” said Odelia, smiling in her most disarming way possible. “Mom told me all about your wonderful book, so I started to read it last night and it’s just fantastic. I don’t think I’ve ever read a story that has gripped me so much as The Sheikh’s Passion.”

“I think she’s overdoing it,” said Harriet. “First rule for a good detective: always play it cool.”

“Yeah, she better tone it down,” said Brutus. “Nobody likes to be buttered up to such an extent.”

But the authoress’s frosty demeanor thawed under this onslaught of praise, and she was even affecting a smile when she said, “Why, thank you. Do you want to come in for a moment?”

“We’d love to,” said Marge, and stepped in, followed by Odelia and the cat contingent, with yours truly bringing up the rear.

“I’m sorry,” said Odelia the moment the door was closed, “but could I perhaps use your bathroom?”

“It’s through there,” said the writer, and gestured to a door near the window.

“So I was hoping to find out what inspired you to write such an amazing story,” said Marge, continuing in her gushing tones, which seemed to have such a positive effect on the writer.

“Well, like I told you yesterday, I’m blessed with a lot of imagination.”

“But it’s so true to life.”

“It’s all fiction, Marge,” said Loretta, taking the book from her big fan’s hands. “Sheer fiction, I assure you.”

“But the Pink Lady is real.”

“Well, yes, certain aspects of the book are loosely based in reality. Like the Pink Lady. But the rest is fiction.” She’d dug out a pen and was now writing a dedication on the first page.

And as Marge talked to the author, and got her to open up about the book’s inspiration, Odelia was still in that bathroom, presumably searching it from top to bottom for a certain pink diamond.

“She won’t have hidden it in the bathroom,” said Harriet decidedly. “She only got back twenty minutes ago, so she wouldn’t have had time to look for a proper hiding place.”

“It’s probably in her luggage,” said Brutus, indicating the suitcase that had been shoved underneath the bed.

“Or maybe in her clothes?” Dooley suggested, pointing to the closet where several dresses hung suspended from clothes hangers.

“Or maybe she has a jewel case and it’s in there,” suggested Harriet.

“This is hopeless,” was my opinion. “This room really needs to be gone over with a fine-tooth comb, and we neither have the time or the opportunity to do that.”

“Yeah, I think Marge should call the cops and get this over with,” said Brutus.

“Chase would have found that diamond by now,” Dooley opined. “Because he is a very good cop, and when he wants to find something he always finds it. That’s the kind of cop he is.”

And while my friends were arguing amongst themselves as to what the best course of action would be, my attention was drawn to the nightstand, where Loretta had put her phone, and right next to her phone lay… an envelope. I frowned as I took it in. There was a bulge in that envelope, a bulge that matched the size of a diamond. So while Marge was entertaining Loretta, and Harriet, Dooley and Brutus were talking strategy, and Odelia was presumably lifting the toilet seat to look underneath, I tripped over to the nightstand in as auspicious a way as I knew how, and with a single nail lifted the flap of that envelope. And lo and behold: a pink shimmer greeted me the moment the flap was lifted. I swallowed away a lumpof excitement. So now what?

I darted a quick look over to Loretta, still talking about her vivid imagination and how it had sustained her through all of the months she’d spent writing her precious tome, and then gave the envelope a casual flick. It dropped to the floor, and since I didn’t know what else to do, I took the stone that had rolled from its recess into my mouth, then quickly walked back to my friends.

“I wave wit,” I said.

They all stared at me.“What’s wrong with you, Max?” said Harriet. “You sound funny.”

“I wave we phtone!” I said, trying to talk around the object I now held in my mouth.

“I think he’s running a fever,” said Brutus.

“Let me feel your brow, Max,” said Harriet.

I jerked my head away, but in doing so accidentally gulped, and the stone, not used to being treated thusly, decided to gambol it down the hatch. I gulped some more when I realized I was now holding a million-dollar diamond in my tummy!

“Oh, boy,” said Brutus. “I think he’s going to croak. Look at his face. He’s having a seizure or something. Call a doctor!” he yelled. “Max is sick!”

Marge looked up at this, and immediately Odelia came rushing out of the bathroom. I did feel a little weak, but that was more from the knowledge that I’d just swallowed a diamond, and was now wondering how it would affect my innards.

“Max, are you all right?” asked Marge as she bent down next to me.

“I feel a little faint,” I admitted.

“Is your cat all right?” asked the authoress, who seemed momentarily taken aback that Marge’s attention, which had been so lavish and unstinted, had suddenly switched to me.

“I think he’s not feeling well,” said Odelia. “We better take him to a doctor. Max, say something,” she urged.

“I just swallowed…” I began.

But then Harriet cried,“He swallowed a bug and now he’s dying!”

“Dying!” Dooley cried. “Oh, please, Odelia—quick! Max is dying!”

“I’m so sorry,” said Marge, addressing Loretta, who’d been watching the scene with limited interest. “But I think we better take Max to a doctor straight away.”

“Oh, absolutely,” said Loretta. She didn’t seem sorry that we were leaving, and nor would she, since she’d just stolen a precious stone and hadn’t had time to hide it yet.

So we left the room, Odelia carrying me in her arms while I still felt a little woozy. But once we were out in the corridor, I finally managed to say,“I swallowed the Pink Lady.”

Odelia frowned as she took this in.

“What did he just say?” asked Marge.

We were waiting for the elevator to arrive.

“I think he said he swallowed the Pink Lady,” said Odelia.

“He’s hallucinating,” said Harriet. “It’s a common side effect of poisoning by bug.”

“I’m not poisoned,” I said, a little weakly. “I saw the Pink Lady lying on the nightstand, took it in my mouth, then accidentally swallowed it and now it’s in my tummy.”

“Oh, dear,” said Odelia as she shared a look of concern with her mom.

“We better get Vena to take a look at you, Max,” said the latter.

“Or Dr. Poolittle,” Dooley suggested. “He is a miracle worker—the pigeon said so.”

“Who’s Dr. Poolittle?” asked Marge, puzzled.

“Why, Tex, of course,” said Dooley before anyone could stop him. “He’s suffering from a midwife crisis and now he wants to be a vet,” he explained when Marge merely stared at him. “But don’t tell anyone, Marge, cause it’s a secret.”

“We’re going to Vena,” said Odelia decidedly.

“Thank you,” I said. I hate going to the vet, but if I have to go, I’d much rather go to one who’s done her homework, and not an amateur vet who’s suffering from a midwife crisis.

“Did you know about this?” Marge asked as we rode the elevator down.

“Um…” said Odelia, trying not to meet her mom’s eyes.

“He wants to become a vet? But why?”

“He doesn’t like that people show him their moles at Costco’s,” said Dooley. “And he saved a pigeon’s life.”

“Moles and pigeons? What is he talking about, honey?”

“I’ll tell you all about it in the car,” said Odelia.

“Not just moles and pigeons,” said Dooley. “He’s seeing a badger tonight.”

“What’s going on!” Marge cried.

28

Unfortunately it would appear that this was not my lucky day. Even though I’d never have admitted it at any other moment in my life, when we discovered the sign hanging on Vena’s door that she was on a two-week vacation and to call her replacement in the next town, I actually, and for the first time in my life, wished that Vena had been there!

“We can’t wait for an appointment,” Odelia said, making one of those executive decisions your pet owner is sometimes obliged to make under these circumstances, and so she and Marge decided that the next best thing to a vet was… Tex!

“Not Dr. Poolittle!” I moaned, for that diamond was really lying heavy on my tummy now. “He’s not a real doctor!”

“He actually is a real doctor,” said Marge. “In fact he’s one of the best doctors I know.”

“But he’s not a pet doctor!” I lamented.

We were in the car at that point, Odelia having raced across town to Vena’s, and now racing back into town to see her dad about a cat. It might have sounded like a joke, but it was no joke to me!

“He’s dying, Odelia,” said Dooley in a choky voice. “My best friend is dying. Do something! Save him!”

“I’m not dying, Dooley,” I assured him. Though it was true that I wasn’t exactly feeling at the top of my form.

“That diamond is sharp, Max,” said Brutus. “It’s sharp and hard and it’s probably cutting you all up inside. It’s cutting a way through your stomach, then through your liver, through your intestines, and finally it will burrow its way out, through the sheer force of gravity, and by thattime you’ll die from internal hemorrhaging.”

“Why, thank you, Brutus!” I cried. “That’s very helpful!”

“Just telling you what you’re up against,” said a cat who was supposed to be my friend but behaved more like my worst enemy! “Diamonds are used in the mining industry,” he continued. “They can cut through the hardest rock. They use them as drill bits, see, since they can cut through almost anything, so they definitely won’t have any trouble cutting through your soft tissues, buddy.”

“Brutus, maybe you shouldn’t say these things to Max,” said Harriet. “He’s in bad enough shape as it is.”

“Yeah, don’t say things like that, Brutus!” I cried.

“All right, all right,” said the black cat, holding up his paws. “Just thought you’d want to know.”

“Oh, Max, you’re bleeding!” said Dooley.

I glanced down at the seat of the car, but didn’t see a thing. “Bleeding? Where?”

“That’s not blood, Dooley,” said Harriet. “That’s ketchup.”

“Are you sure?” said Dooley, and licked at the spot.

“Dooley, how many times do I have to tell you not to lick at strange spots!” I said.

“Oh, Max,” he said, giving me a watery smile. “Even now, with one paw in the grave, you still think of me-e-e-e!”

The car pulled to a stop, and we all piled out, though I had the luxury of being carried, since apparently I was now at death’s door, with only a few more minutes—or seconds!—to live.

They carried me into the waiting room, then without knocking into the doctor’s office, where they found Tex, sipping from a bottle and looking as if he’d been busted in the act of doing something he shouldn’t.

“It’s just water!” he cried when he met the censorious gazes of his wife and daughter and no less than four cats. “See?” He held up the bottle, and indeed it was Evian—not one of your go-to brands for alcoholics.

“Max swallowed the Pink Lady,” said Marge, placing me on the desk in front of the doctor.

“A pink what?” asked Tex.

“The Pink Lady, Tex. The diamond we kept in our bedroom safe?”

“The very large diamond you kept in your bedroom safe,” Odelia specified.

“He’s accidentally swallowed it, so it’s in his stomach, and doing who knows what damage in there.”

“And with Vena on holiday…”

“So it’s up to you, Tex.”

“But…”

“You want to be a vet, right? Well, now’s your chance to prove it!”

“You know about that?” asked Tex. He then turned to me. “But I thought Vesta had sworn the cats to secrecy?”

“It’s all right, Tex,” said Dooley. “I told Marge not to tell anyone.”

“You really should know better than to trust cats to keep a secret,” said Marge. “They blab. It’s what they do!”

“Now save Max’s life, Dad,” Odelia implored. “Do something!”

I should have felt insulted by Marge’s words, but frankly she was right: blabbing is what we do! But then Tex looked me in the eye, and I looked him in the eye, and he smiled. And I don’t know why, but at that moment I felt slightly reassured that this man knew what he was doing and that he could help me. After all, he was a doctor, right? He might not be a vet yet, but he knew about anatomy. And since human anatomy probably isn’t all that different from that of other mammals, maybe he would be able to save my life from this sharp and pointy diamond!

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” said Tex, as he picked me up and carried me over to his examination table. “First we’re going to take a picture to see what we’re dealing with here.”

“A picture?” I asked a little weakly. “You’re going to take my picture?”

“Now is not the time to take pictures for your Facebook page, Tex!” Harriet cried.

“I think Tex is referring to an X-ray,” Marge explained.

And indeed he was. He hooked me up to some kind of machine hovering over me, and moments later said,“Don’t move, Max.” So I kept perfectly still while he did his thing.

“The X-ray machine was a big investment,” Marge explained to her daughter, “but it’s definitely paying off now.”

“I only use it for small stuff,” said Tex.

“I’m not small stuff, Tex!” I cried, but of course he didn’t understand.

“It saves time. Sending a person to a radiologist and then waiting for the results…” He was studying a special kind of laptop now, and finally said, “I see it. It’s still in his stomach.”

Odelia and Marge crowded around Tex and studied the images.“I seem to remember the Pink Lady is not a sharp-edged stone,” said Odelia. “I don’t think it’ll do any damage.”

“Plus, it’s round,” said Tex. “It should pass through quite easily.”

“So what do you suggest?” asked Marge.

“I think you should give him bread and a few spoons of milk. The bread will wrap itself around the diamond and protect the stomach, and the milk will induce a mild case of diarrhea, which will help purge the stone from his system. You’ll need to monitor his stool to retrieve the diamond—better wear plastic gloves when you do.”

“And if he doesn’t pass the diamond?” asked Odelia, stroking me gently.

“If it doesn’t pass, it will need to be removed surgically.”

“Surgically!” I cried. “What do you mean, surgically?!”

“He means he’ll have to operate,” Odelia explained.

“He’ll have to cut you open like a fish, Max,” said Brutus.

“But I don’t want to be cut open like a fish!”

“Brutus, don’t scare Max,” said Harriet.

“I’m just telling him what’s going to happen so that he’s prepared. It’s better that he knows going in. Chances of survival are probably fifty percent,” he said. “Though to be honest it can go both ways.”

“Brutus!” Harriet snapped.

“All right, all right. Just trying to help.”

“Well, stop helping.”

“Who’s going to perform the procedure?” asked Odelia. “You, Dad?”

“Not me personally, no,” said Tex. “I—I’m not qualified to operate on Max.” He sighed. “I’m not actually a vet, you see. And if anything went wrong…”

“I know, honey,” said Marge, rubbing her husband on the back. “But I still think you did a fine job here.” She gave me a smile. “How are you feeling, Max?”

“I guess I’m okay,” I said. “As long as Tex won’t cut me open like a fish.” They’d turned the thick laptop in my direction, and it was a little weird to be able to look inside myself—plenty weird, in fact. And there it was: the Pink Lady. It was just lying there, gently reposing on a bed of stomach, and not doing any cutting or drilling or whatever horrible picture Brutus had conjured up.

“You’ll be fine,” said Odelia. “You’ll poop out the stone and that’ll be the end of it.”

I glanced up at Tex.“You really are Dr. Poolittle,” I said reverently. “Thank you, sir.”

After Marge had translated my words to the doctor, he frowned.“Dr. Poolittle? What is he talking about?”

“I came up with that,” Dooley said. “It’s a cool nickname, don’t you think?”

“No, Dooley,” said Harriet. “It’s a very silly nickname.”

“I like it,” said Odelia with a grin. “It’s very catchy.”

“Dr. Poolittle,” Tex murmured, rolling the words around his tongue. He didn’t seem overly pleased with the moniker. “Is that what Hampton Cove’s pet population is calling me?”

“They will now,” I said, as I gave the man a mild head bunt.

29

I don’t know if you’ve ever had to wait for a diamond to pass through your gastrointestinal system, but generally speaking it’s not an arduous process. You simply let nature take its course and in the meantime you get on with your life. Only in my case it was slightly complicated by the fact that my humans had fed me a few spoons of milk, which causes diarrhea in a lot of cats, me included. And the second complication was the knowledge that people were waiting for me to poop out a million-dollar gem made me slightly anxious—which luckily also aided in the digestive process! And since Odelia wanted me close by so she could monitor my progress—or that of the diamond—I was grounded, which didn’t bother me in the slightest. I am, after all, a homebody.

Dooley had decided to keep me company, and was watching me like a hawk, and Brutus and Harriet were in the vicinity, too, having a nice nap underneath the rose bushes in the backyard while Dooley and I enjoyed a lie-down on the smooth lawn. And so the long day wore on, with Odelia popping her head out of the upstairs window from time to time to check on me, and me feeling like a sick pet and taking it easy, even though technically I wasn’t sick—just silly enough to swallow a priceless gem!

“I think we should take it easy, Max,” said Dooley when I got up to stretch. “We don’t want to exert ourselves.”

“I’m fine, Dooley,” I said. “I’m not actually sick, just inconvenienced.”

“We don’t look fine, Max. We look… constipated.”

I grimaced. It was true that in spite of Tex’s ministrations nothing was happening, if you know what I mean. “Maybe milk isn’t strong enough. Maybe I need an actual laxative.”

“A laxative? You mean something that will make us poop?”

“Yes, Dooley. That’s what a laxative is. It makes you go poop. And what’s with all the ‘we’ stuff? I’m the one with the diamond up his… keister.”

He thought about this for a moment.“Maybe grass?” he suggested. “Grass might get things moving down… there.” He vaguely gestured to my lower strata.

“Trouble, boys?” asked Brutus, who’d come wandering up, followed by Harriet.

“Nothing I can’t handle, Brutus,” I said, perhaps a little curtly. Frankly I could do without the black cat’s advice.

“We can’t poop,” announced Dooley, the inveterate blabbermouth. “And so we’re thinking about eating some grass.”

“We?” asked Harriet. “Did you swallow a diamond, too?”

But Brutus was laughing.“You want to eat grass? Like a cow? That’s hilarious!”

“Not like a cow, Brutus,” I said. “It’s a generally known fact that cats eat grass to help with their digestion.”

“Wanna know what I think?” said Brutus as he regarded me thoughtfully.

“No, Brutus, I do not want to know what you think.”

“I think that diamond is stuck down there. And now the whole process is blocked.” When I produced a light laugh at this, he continued, “I’m not trying to be funny, Max. When an object as large as that diamond gets stuck in your intestine, whether it be the small intestine or the large, it creates a blockage that could be fatal if not immediately remedied.”

“Fatal!” Dooley cried, in a panic all over again.

“Nothing is stuck, Brutus,” I assured him. “It just takes time. It’s only been, what, two hours? And the whole process takes seven to twelve hours.” Tex had told me this, and I believed him.

“Do you want to take that chance?” Brutus said, cocking an eyebrow at me. “Cats have died from this, buddy. And as your good friend I’m telling you that you should go and see a doctor. Pronto.”

“Oh, God,” said Harriet, rolling her eyes. “Not again.”

“Odeliaaaa!” Dooley was already screaming. “Odeliaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Odelia’s head popped out of the bedroom window so fast she hit it against the top of the frame. “Ouch. What’s wrong?”

“The diamond is stuck in Max’s butt and he needs to see the doctor NOW!” Dooley screamed. “Or he will DIEEEEEEEE!”

“Wait, I’m coming down,” said Odelia. And indeed moments later she joined us on the lawn. “What’s all this about the diamond being stuck?”

“Max hasn’t pooped yet,” Brutus explained, “so that diamond is probably stopping up his whole system, and that is a very dangerous situation, and one that should be handled ASAP.”

“Max?” Asked Odelia, directing a concerned look in my direction. “Are you in pain right now? Do you feel as if something’s blocked down there?”

“I feel fine!” I assured everyone. “So stop worrying. The doctor said this could take hours.”

“Have you pooped yet?” asked Brutus. “It’s a simple question.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“I rest my case,” said the butch cat.

“Mh,” said Odelia, then took out her phone, and moments later was consulting with her dad. When she hung up, she had a look of concern on her face, a look I certainly didn’t like to see there! “He says to come in. He’ll take another X-ray to see how far the diamond has progressed through your system.”

I produced a sound of disappointment. I hate going to the doctor, and now I had to go twice in one day? But what could I do? Dr. Poolittle had spoken, and so I had to do what he said. And so moments later we all piled in the car again, and were on our way into town.

“Mh,” said Tex as he studied the screen. “I don’t like what I’m seeing, honey.”

“Do you think the diamond is blocked?” asked Odelia, nervous now.

“There is some progress, but according to my calculations it should have been further along at this point. And the fact that he hasn’t had a bowel movement is worrying me.”

“Don’t say these things, Dr. Poolittle,” I lamented. “Now you’ve got me worried, too!”

“Maybe you could use a plunger?” Brutus suggested. “It works miracles on stopped-up drains and toilets, or so I’ve been told.”

“Nobody is using a plunger on me!” I yelled.

“Relax, buddy,” said Brutus with a grin. “Just kidding.”

“Oh, snuggle bear,” said Harriet. “Now is not the time for jokes.”

“I was just trying to lighten the mood, snow bunny.”

Harriet giggled.“I actually thought it was pretty funny.”

“So what do you suggest, Dad?” asked Odelia.

Tex lowered his head to examine my butt more closely.“Well, I would suggest that…”

And I would have listened with distinct interest to the doctor’s suggestions, but just at that moment I felt a sudden urge taking control over me—a powerful spasm in my lower regions, if you see what I mean—and moments later there was a minor explosion, and when all was said and done, I’d done my business right there on Tex’s nice exam table. It felt good, I can tell you—immensely good. As if I’d just passed a brick!

“Max! You did it!” Dooley cried.

“Good boy,” said Odelia, patting me on the head.

“Way to go, Max!” said Harriet.

“And you didn’t even need a plunger,” said Brutus with a big grin.

But then Tex slowly rose from behind me, and we all watched as remnants of my digestive process dribbled off his face. It was in his eyes, his nose, his hair, even his mouth, for he’d just been saying something.

“Oh, Dad!” said Odelia with a horrified laugh. “You should see yourself!”

“He got the full load,” Brutus said reverently. “The whole enchilada.”

Odelia handed the doctor a wet wipe and as he glanced down at himself and his nice shiny exam table, a sort of howl escaped his lips.“My table!” he cried. “My office!”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby, Dad,” said Odelia. “This is all part and parcel of being a vet. Now let’s find that diamond!”

It didn’t take her long to find the Pink Lady, and I have to say the atmosphere was jubilant—a tough job well done!

The only one who didn’t seem to share in the revels was Tex. He’d cleaned himself up at this point, but still didn’t look happy about the whole business.

“What’s wrong, Dad?” asked Odelia finally.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” the good doctor confessed.

“Cut out for what?”

“This… animal!” he cried, gesturing to me and to his table, which still bore witness of recent events.

“Max is not an animal, Dad,” said Odelia sternly. “Max is family.”

“But look at what he did to my nice table! It smells!”

“So you clean it. Big deal. Haven’t you ever dealt with this kind of thing before?”

“If you’re asking me if a patient ever pooped on my face—no, as a matter of fact they haven’t.”

“Well, if you’re going to be a vet you can’t afford to be squeamish, Dad. So get a grip, will you?”

“I can’t do this,” said Tex, shaking his head.

“If you think this is bad, try pulling a calf from a cow with your bare hands,” said Odelia.

Tex gulped at the picture Odelia’s words conjured up. “I guess I had a more romantic view of the life of a vet. Healing sick birds and dealing with roupy chickens. Maybe a colicky collie.”

“You know what you should do?” said Harriet. “You should ask Vena if you can assist her for a couple of days at the practice. Then you’ll see what it’s really like to be a vet. And if you still like it, then you can decide.”

Odelia dutifully translated Harriet’s words for the doctor, and Tex nodded. “She’s right—you’re right. You’re all absolutely right!”

“I feel all right,” I intimated, still on cloud nine after my accomplishment. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but when cats have had a good poo, they feel on top of the world, and that’s how I felt right now.

“Anyway, we can discuss your future as a vet tonight,” said Odelia. “Right now we need to take this diamond to Uncle Alec, and also tell him to arrest Loretta Gray for trying to steal it.”

“Maybe you should hold off on that,” I said. I’d been doing some thinking while I was lying in that backyard waiting for a certain stone to pop from a certain orifice, and I’d come to the conclusion that the situation wasn’t as clear-cut as it looked.

“What do you mean?” said Odelia with a frown.

So I proceeded to lay out my most recent brainstorm to the small gathering—except for Tex, who’d returned to the bathroom, presumably to wash his face with bleach.

30

Vesta was at the General Store doing some last-minute shopping when she saw Scarlett pass by the store, hand in hand with none other than… Johnny Carew. After she’d sufficiently recovered from the shock, she walked out, her bag of groceries in her hand, and accosted her friend. “Scarlett, why don’t you pick up your phone?”

“Oh, did you call me?” asked Scarlett, looking radiant and clearly enamored with this big lug.

“Several times.”

“Well, I’ve been busy,” said Scarlett with a cheeky grin.

“And I can see who you’ve been busy with,” said Vesta, directing a curious look at Johnny.

“Hi, Mrs. Muffin,” said the former criminal. “Scarlett and I are in love.”

“Of course you are,” said Vesta.

“Ever since we met I’ve had flies in the pit of my stomach,” said Johnny. “I even told Jerry. ‘Jer,’ I said, ‘I have flies in the pit of my stomach,’ I said. And you know what he said?”

“I have no idea.”

“He said I’m crazy, and he’s right, I am crazy—crazy about this lady!”

He placed a large arm around Scarlett’s shoulders, and the latter gave Vesta a wink, which Vesta returned.

“So we’re still on for the neighborhood watch?” asked Vesta.

“Absolutely.”

“What watch?” asked Johnny.

“Oh, just a little project Vesta and I got going,” said Scarlett, patting the big man’s chest. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

And as they walked off, Johnny said,“I wasn’t lying, Scarlett. I really do feel flies in the pit of my stomach.”

“Are you sure it’s not butterflies, Johnny?” asked Scarlett.

“Pretty sure it’s flies, Scarlett.”

“All right, honey. If you say it’s flies, it’s flies.”

Shaking her head, Vesta walked on, a small smile lifting the corners of her lips. Scarlett and her men. She gave Johnny a week—two weeks, tops.

“Vesta, wait up!” suddenly a voice rang out behind her. She frowned and turned, and saw that Wilbur Vickery wanted a word.

“Wilbur?”

“I need your advice,” said the store owner as he licked his lips. Judging from the pink-colored crumbs, he’d been eating a glazed donut. “I met this woman, see?”

“You met a woman?”

“Uh-huh. Her name is Loretta Gray and she’s a famous writer or something. So we went out twice, but since our last date she won’t return my calls or my messages and she’s blocked me on Facebook. What do you think that means?”

Vesta rolled her eyes.“What do you think it means, Wilbur?”

“That there won’t be a third date?”

“Bingo! See? You didn’t need my advice after all.”

“But there was definitely chemistry between us. I could tell.”

“Don’t tell me. Flies in the pit of your stomach?”

“Well, no,” he said, looking confused. Wilbur’s face was not one of your handsome faces. He had skin like the surface of the moon, and his teeth had seen better days—a couple of decades ago. But what he lacked in outward appearance, he made up for in sheer tenacity when pursuing the object of his affection.

“How many messages did you send this lady?”

“Oh, hundreds, probably?”

“That’s your mistake right there, Wilbur. No woman likes to be harassed.”

“But I thought women liked to be pursued?”

“There’s a fine line between being pursued and being harassed, and from what you just told me you’re on the wrong side of it. So back off already, will you, before she calls the cops on you for stalking.”

“You think?”

“Of course.” He was staring at her like a lost puppy now, and she took pity on the guy. “Look, if you want I’ll talk to the woman. Is she local?”

“She’s staying at the Star hotel. Room two-fourteen. I’ve thought about serenading her but her window is at the back. And I’ve left messages at the desk but no dice.”

“Okay, I’ll go over there right now and see what’s going on. But don’t get your hopes up, buddy.”

“Oh, thank you, Vesta. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Casanova. She’ll probably tell me to take a hike, and if she does, I can’t say I blame her.”

31

The meeting had been arranged and took place in the suite of the Star hotel. Present were four cats, Marge, Odelia and Chase, and two people I’d never met before: the Sheikh was there, of course, and a guy named Sharif Maroun, whose job description wasn’t exactly clear to me but who I assumed was some kind of advisor. There were also plenty of security people hovering around, but upon a word from the Sheikh they’d left the suite and now it was just us and the ruler of Khemed. I had expected at least a couple of the man’s wives to be present, but apparently they had better things to do. The only woman present, apart from Marge and Odelia, was in fact Loretta Gray, though it was obvious from her expression that she wasn’t exactly happy to be there.

“So you have managed to retrieve the Pink Lady?” said Sheikh Bab El Ghat. “That is very good news indeed, Mrs. Poole.”

He glanced between Odelia and Marge, since they had both nodded in acknowledgment.

“I’m Mrs. Poole since my husband is Mr. Poole,” Marge explained. “And my daughter is Mrs. Poole since her dad is my husband.”

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” said Odelia. “Just call me Mrs. Kingsley, because my husband is Mr. Kingsley.”

Chase, who was standing next to her, looked up in surprise, and a happy smile flitted across his face, then disappeared again, replaced by his standard cop-on-duty expression.

The Sheikh, who was younger than I thought, smiled and extended his hands.“Well, when can I feast my eyes on this precious stone? Or do you want to keep me in suspense?”

“Here she is,” said Marge, and handed the stone to the Sheikh. She’d placed it back in its box, and when the Sheikh opened the box, he blinked at the stone’s sheer splendor.

“Oh, my,” he said. “This certainly is a gorgeous specimen, isn’t it, Sharif?”

He held it up so his advisor could take a peek, but the man didn’t look particularly impressed.

“Very nice,” were his only words, spoken without much excitement.

“I thought this stone was lost forever, and now all of a sudden here it is,” said the Sheikh as he stared at the diamond, mesmerized.

“It was a lucky coincidence that it was found on our shores, your highness,” Odelia agreed.

“Please, just call me Bab,” said the young Sheikh with a wave of the hand. He was a handsome ruler, with slicked-back dark hair and eyes the color of amber. He was dressed in designer jeans, a pink polo shirt and sneakers, unlike his advisor Sharif, who was dressed in a gray suit and sporting sunglasses, even though we were indoors. They both looked pretty hip and cool, I thought.

“So what are you going to do with the stone… Bab?” asked Chase.

“I think I’ll put it on display in our national museum,” said the Sheikh with a little nod of satisfaction as he clicked the jewel box closed and pocketed it.

“Sir?” said Sharif.

“Yes, I don’t want to lock it up in a vault. I want the people of Khemed to be able to admire its beauty. So the museum is the best place.”

“You’re not going to give it to one of your wives?” asked Marge.

“One of my wives?” said the Sheikh with a curt laugh. “As far as I’m aware I only have one wife.”

“Oh, I just assumed…”

“One of our traditions I decided to dispense with,” the Sheikh explained. “And now please tell me all about the Pink Lady, and how it ended up in Hampton Cove of all places.”

“I think the person best placed to tell you that story,” said Odelia, “is this lady over here. Loretta? Will you do the honors?”

“Loretta wrote a very interesting book about the Pink Lady and its history,” Marge explained. “Which is why we asked her to be present when we handed you the diamond.”

Loretta looked a little uncomfortable as she took a short curtsy, then said,“Your highness… Bab.”

“So you wrote a book about the Pink Lady? I haven’t read it yet, but now I can’t wait.”

“I think you’ll find it very interesting,” said Marge. “It’s based on a real story.”

Loretta gave Marge an icy glance.“Marge is flattering me. I’m afraid the book is a figment of my imagination. Inspired by the true story of the Pink Lady, but only in a very limited way.”

“Oh,” said the Sheikh, slightly disappointed, then turned to Marge, clearly expecting an explanation.

“Loretta looks very uncomfortable, Max,” said Dooley.

“Yes, she does,” I agreed.

When we’d arrived at the hotel, and had knocked on Loretta’s door for the second time that day, she’d been most surprised to see us. She also looked very flustered, presumably because she’d been looking everywhere for that diamond that had gone missing. Which is probably also why she gave us a look of extreme suspicion. So when Odelia had invited her to be present at the official handing over of the famous diamond to its rightful owner, her eyes had gone wide, but since she couldn’t very well come out and say that she had taken the stone, and especially with Chase right there, she reluctantly decided to play along, no doubt all the while wondering how we’d managed to take the stone, and why she hadn’t been arrested yet.

“You’re being too modest, Loretta,” said Marge now. “The story of the Pink Lady did a lot more than inspire you, didn’t it? In fact I think it’s safe to say that you lived part of that story yourself.”

Loretta’s eyes were blazing, as she looked from Odelia to Marge, clearly wondering what they were playing at.

“I don’t understand,” said the young Sheikh. “Youlived part of the story?”

“Mrs. Poole is speaking figuratively,” said Loretta. “Writers live in their imagination, and my imagination is what inspired me, loosely based on an article I read about the Pink Lady.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” said Marge.

Loretta, who clearly wanted to be anywhere but there, plastered a polite smile on her face.“I’m sure I don’t knowwhat you mean, Marge.”

“And I think that you do.”

The Sheikh had followed the back and forth with marked interest, like a spectator at a tennis match.“What’s going on? Can anyone explain? You, Mrs. Kingsley?”

“What’s going on here is that the real story of the Pink Lady has been shrouded in mystery for far too long, Bab. And I think that the time has come to reveal the truth.”

“The truth? The truth about what, exactly?”

“For that we have to go back thirty-five years, to an auspicious moment in your father’s life—and that of Laura Burns, his ninety-ninth bride and the recipient of the Pink Lady.”

“Yes, Laura Burns,” said the Sheikh. “She died shortly after giving birth to a child, then that child also died. A very sad day for my father, and for the people of my country.”

“Laura died,” said Marge,” but her daughter didn’t. Instead she was smuggled out of the country the day her mother died, along with the Pink Lady.”

The young Sheikh frowned.“What are you talking about? Smuggled out of the country? By who?”

“I think perhaps Loretta is best placed to tell you all about it,” said Odelia.

“Loretta? Why?”

“Because her real name is Bab El Ahs, your highness. And she’s your sister.”

32

The moment Odelia had uttered these words, a couple of things happened: the Sheikh’s jaw dropped, Sharif’s head jerked round to direct an astonished look at Loretta, and the latter rushed out the door. Unfortunately for her, just at that moment Gran tried to walk in, and as a consequence the two ladies collided.

“Oh, there you all are,” said Gran as she tried to glance past Loretta, who tried to get past Gran. “I’m looking for Loretta Gray, and the two heavies watching the door told me she’s in here.”

“That’s Loretta,” I said, pointing to the author who was still trying to get past Gran but was failing to do so. Gran is a hard person to dislodge if she doesn’t want to be dislodged, which she usually doesn’t.

“Oh, hi there,” said Gran, and held out her hand for Loretta to shake. “I’m a friend of Wilbur Vickery’s, and he’s asked me to have a little chat. Turns out you had a bad reaction to your second date with him—don’t worry, it happens all the time—in fact it happened on my first date with him—and now he’s worried that he said something wrong, which, knowing him, he did, and wants to see if there’s anything he can do to fix it, which I’m sure he can’t, but anyway, just thought I’d look in on you and see if there’s any lasting damage, if you know what I mean.” But then she must have noticed that Loretta was on the verge of tears, and her face fell. “Oh, dear. He’s done it again, hasn’t he? Wilbur can be a boor, but deep down he’s all right, you know. Harmless, I mean.”

“It’s not that,” said Loretta, then glanced back. And when her eyes met the Sheikh’s, she produced a faint smile. “I guess I owe you an explanation, don’t I?”

“Yes, I guess you do,” said the Sheikh, still looking flabbergasted.

At this point Gran must have come to the conclusion that something entirely different was going on, so she frowned and said,“What’s going on?”

“Come in, Gran, and close the door,” said Odelia, and then Loretta returned on her steps, Gran did as she was told, and we all listened as the author of The Sheikh’s Passion told her story.

“Thirty-five years ago my mother realized that she was in trouble,” Loretta began. We’d all accepted the Sheikh’s invitation to take a seat in the suite’s salon, and had made ourselves comfortable. Tea had been served, and sweet cookies, and Marge had taken out a tissue, just in case Loretta’s story was as touching as the book she’d read.

“I think I know the kind of trouble you mean,” said Gran as she nibbled from a cookie. “She met a nice boy and got herself pregnant, huh?”

“More or less,” said Loretta.

“Just let the woman talk, Ma,” said Marge, who sat poised on her chair as if at a library reading.

“My mother had married Sheikh Bab El Ehr out of love, and at first things between them were great. But the trouble began soon after their wedding ceremony. You see, my mother had been raised in the traditions of the West, and she wasn’t used to the way things were done in Khemed, even though she’d lived there most of her life, except the years she spent in New York. Her parents had raised her a free spirit, and were very much surprised when she fell in love with the Sheikh and accepted his proposal. They warned her that this might not be a good idea. That an entire structure had been put in place around the Sheikh that would make it impossible for her to live the kind of life she wanted to live. But she was young and in love, and the Sheikh made her all kinds of promises, so she threw caution and the advice of her parents to the wind and decided to marry anyway. The Sheikh had told her before they married that he’d instigate a process of modernization, and that he’d send his other wives back to their families and she would be his only wife. He’d promised her they’d have children, and they’d be the only heirs to the throne. He’d also given her the Pink Lady as a token of his love and affection, and said it was hers to keep, whatever happened, even though the stone had been part of the country’s set of royal jewels until then.”

“I like the story, Max,” said Dooley. “It’s almost like a novel, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I said. “Though unlike a novel, it actually happened.”

“Which makes it even better,” he said. Dooley is a big fan of soap operas, and there was a touch of the outlandish about the story Loretta was telling. No wonder Gran was also listening with rapt attention, as she, too, is a soap aficionado.

“So shortly before their one-year wedding anniversary, things came to a head. By this time it had become clear to my mother that her husband had no intention of keeping the promises he made. Those ninety-eight other wives were still very much established at the palace, and weren’t going anywhere. Quite the contrary, in fact. The palace was abuzz with rumors of a coup mother wanted to stage against the Sheikh, rumors designed to drive a wedge between the couple. The Sheikh spent less and less time in my mother’s quarters, and slept less and less in the spousal bed, opting to spend his nights with his other wives, in other parts of the palace, where she wasn’t even allowed to go. She was slowly being sidelined, and that wasn’t the life she’d chosen for herself, or the baby she was carrying. Worse, her passport had been taken away by palace officials, and she’d been forbiddento leave, allegedly for her own safety, but it was clear she was now a prisoner rather than the person in charge of the royal household. She wasn’t even allowed to talk to her parents anymore, who’d returned to the States, or her old friends, and things looked more and more dire.”

“Oh, dear,” said Marge, clasping a hand to her face. “This is the part of the book I haven’t read yet,” she explained when all eyes turned to her. “But please go on.”

“Yes, please go on,” said the Sheikh, who looked stunned by this story—clearly a story nobody had ever told him.

“So the day my mother was supposed to give birth finally arrived, and word had reached her ears that the other wives had arranged for her baby to be smothered in its cradle.”

“What?!” Marge cried, shooting upright. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, settling down again. “Don’t mind me.”

“They felt that a new heir would jeopardize their position to such an extent it was better to get rid of the child altogether. So mother was desperate, especially since she had no one she could turn to—no one who could help. But then salvation came in the form of two men who worked for a large hydroelectric project. Their names were Craig Bantam and Kenneth Cesseki and they were both Americans. She’d seen them walking in the palace garden with the Sheikh, and so one day she managed to sneak a message to one of the men, Craig, and arranged to meet him in secret in the garden, and explained her predicament. Craig, who must have had a noble heart, promised her he’d do what he could, and so she met him in secret several times more, and gradually a plan was hatched to help her escape the palace, along with the baby, so no harm could be done to either mother or child.”

“And you’re saying that my father was complicit in all of this?” asked the Sheikh, who still looked stunned.

“I don’t know if he was complicit, or if he simply didn’t want to know what was going on, but he certainly didn’t listen to my mother, and didn’t arrange for her to be taken to safety, or punish the people conspiring against her,” said Loretta, who’d folded her hands in her lap, and was telling her story serenely, clearly glad to finally get it out. “So my mother had given birth, and had watched my cradle day and night, to prevent anything happening to me, and the day finally arrived that Craig and Kenneth were to smuggle my mother out of the palace, along with me, but something went wrong. Both men were arrested and subsequently deported. Also, my mother had become violently ill during the night, and had to be taken to the hospital. She died later that day.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Odelia.

“But Craig and Kenneth had arranged for a palace servant, one of the rare ones loyal to my mother, to set the plan in motion regardless of what happened to its protagonists. And this brave servant managed to smuggle me out of the palace, and drove me out of the country, across the border into Khamsin, and from there I was flown to safety in America, where Craig proceeded to hand me to my grandmother and grandfather. They were devastated to learn of the death of their only daughter, but happy to be able to take care of me. And they raised me,” she said simply.

“And told you the story of what happened,” Odelia supplied.

Loretta nodded.“They told me on my eighteenth birthday. Until that moment I had no idea who my mother was, or even what had actually happened to her. My grandparents had always told me they were my parents, until they decided the time had come to tell me the truth.”

“But… what happened to the Pink Lady?” asked Gran.

“My mother, before she became ill, had fastened the ring to my diaper,” said Loretta, “so when Craig’s contact person at the palace smuggled me out, unbeknownst to her she also smuggled out the diamond. It was actually my grandmother who discovered the stone when she changed my diaper for the first time, after I’d arrived in New York. And since it was such a famous diamond, they were at a loss what to do with it. So it was decided that Craig would keep it safe until I’d come of age. Unfortunately Craig died before he could tell my grandparents where he’d hidden the diamond, and so it stayed in his safe at the bank all these years until two crooks burgled the bank and this whole rigmarole with the stone began.”

“Which is why you decided to take possession of it,” said Odelia.

“It is rightfully mine,” said Loretta with a touch of defiance. “It belonged to my mother, and she intended for me to have it. It’s the only thing of hers I have.” She now regarded the Sheikh sternly. “It certainly doesn’t belong to you, sir, since it was by your father’s hand, or one of his wives, that my mother died.”

The Sheikh blinked at this, and a slight flush of crimson crept up his cheeks.“Are you accusing my father of murder?”

“Craig told my parents that rumor had it that my mother was poisoned,” said Loretta, “and who else than a person with access to her could have done that?”

“Look, this is all ancient history now,” said Sharif, stirring for the first time. “And frankly I think you should ask yourself, sir, why this person suddenly comes up with this story so many years after the fact?”

“I didn’t ‘come up’ with the story,” said Loretta. “This is the story as it happened.”

But the Sheikh nodded thoughtfully.“Go on, Sharif.”

“I think,” said Sharif, “that Miss Gray here is not your father’s daughter, sir, but a fraud and a con artist. And the only reason she’s telling this preposterous story is to get her hands on the diamond.”

“There’s an easy way to decide whether Loretta is telling the truth or not,” said Odelia. “Do a DNA test. If it’s positive, you’ll know that she’s your half-sister, Bab.”

“Oh, this is simply ridiculous,” said Sharif. “Of course she’s not your sister, sir. Please don’t listen to these people.”

“No, but Mrs. Kingsley is right, Sharif. A DNA test won’t take long, and it will decide this matter one way or another.”

“I strongly advise you not to subject yourself to a test,” said Sharif emphatically. “It can only lead to rumor and innuendo. The mere fact that you agreed to a test would cause people to give credence to this woman’s words. They’ll think that where there’s smoke, there must be fire. Miss Gray will be able to feast on these rumors for years, appear on talk shows, get book deals, start a podcast…”

“Look, I don’t care whether you believe me or not,” said Loretta. “All I want is the Pink Lady. It’s the only memory of my mother I have, and she wanted me to have it.”

“The Pink Lady wasn’t your mother’s to give,” said the Sheikh. “It belongs to the people of Khemed. Your mother had no right to give it to these American operatives.”

“Exactly right, sir,” said Sharif, gloating slightly. “Now let’s end this matter once and for all and return home. Our mission was to retrieve the stone, and we have accomplished that, so let’s not waste any more time with this adventuress.”

The Sheikh regarded Loretta for a moment, then said,“No, I want to get to the bottom of this. I want to do the DNA test.”

“But, sir!”

“It’s done, Sharif,” said the Sheikh, and his tone brooked no contest.

“Very well, sir,” said Sharif, who clearly knew when he had been overruled. “I’ll arrange it.”

Our audience with the Sheikh was at an end, and so we all filed out of the suite, Loretta to return to her own room, and the rest of us to go home. But before we left, Loretta had something to say.“I owe you an apology, Marge,” she said as we stood in the hallway waiting for the elevator to take us down. “I lied to you about who I was, and about the reasons for me to write the book.”

“And I want to apologize to you, Loretta,” said Marge, “for the subterfuge. I followed you after you received the Pink Lady from that insurance man and then made up an excuse to see you and keep you busy while my daughter searched around for the diamond.”

Loretta smiled.“I knew it must have been you who took it. At first I thought it was the cleaner, since she came in shortly before you arrived, and I blamed myself for not hiding it better. But I didn’t have time, and besides, I didn’t think anyone would suspect me of taking the stone.”

“That was very clever of you, arranging things with Dwayne Late and Oscar Godish,” said Odelia.

“Well, I had to do something. After I discovered the stone had been found, I wanted to get my hands on it before the Sheikh and his cronies did.” She sounded bitter all of a sudden.

“You really think your father had your mother killed?” asked Chase.

“Yes, I do. Craig thought so, too. She was in excellent health, and then all of a sudden within the space of a few hours she died? And just before she had arranged to escape the palace? Craig was absolutely certain she’d been poisoned, and most probably by my father or one of the other wives.”

“I talked to Kenneth, and he told me a different story,” said Odelia. “He said they met your mother, and were immediately kicked out of the country afterward.”

Loretta smiled.“He told me you’d sent him a message through Skype and wanted to talk. He wanted to know what to tell you, so we made some alterations to the story.”

“So what about the book?” asked Marge.

“What about the book?”

“What you just told us in there is all in the book, right? So what was the point of hiding the truth from Odelia?”

Loretta shook her head.“Only parts of what actually happened are in the book—mostly the Sheikh and my mother’s romance and wedding. I decided that the book had to have a happy end, so the character in the book lives happily ever after with her sheikh, and so does their baby girl.”

“Aww,” said Gran.

“So why write it?” asked Marge

“After my grandparents told me the real story of who I was, I found myself writing it all down, and before I knew it I’d written the beginning of a book. I guess I wanted to bring my mother’s story into the world. Until that point no one had even an inkling of what had happened to her, and I felt that was so unfair. I wanted people to know that she had existed, and what a lovely, wonderful person she had been. I also wrote it to feel closer to her—to build a connection to this person I’d never known, but who was so brave and who’d saved my life.”

“By smuggling you out of the country.”

“My grandparents actually had to stop me from telling the full story. They didn’t want me to put myself in harm’s way. The Sheikh has agents everywhere, through Khemed’s embassies. He does a lot of business here, and they didn’t want me to draw a target on my back. They lost a daughter—they didn’t want to lose a granddaughter, too. So that’s why the book only tells half the story.”

“I guess now your cover is blown,” said Odelia.

“I know. I should have known that going after the Pink Lady would get me into trouble.”

“How did you persuade Late and Godish to hand the diamond to you?” asked Chase.

Loretta smiled.“Money, Detective. My grandparents are very affluent people, and when they saw how determined I was to get that diamond, they offered me their support.”

“How much?”

“Ten percent of what the Pink Lady would fetch at auction.”

Chase whistled through his teeth.“They cleaned up.”

But then the elevator finally arrived, and we rode down a couple of floors, then Loretta got out. And as the elevator door closed, and she gave us a small wave, suddenly I had a premonition, and not a good one either.

“You guys,” I said. “I think maybe we should do something to protect Loretta.”

“You think she might be in danger?” asked Odelia.

“What is he saying?” asked Chase.

“He’s saying that he thinks Loretta needs protection.”

Chase’s expression hardened. “Yeah, he’s probably right. I don’t trust that Sheikh further than I can throw him. He’s got crook written all over him. Just like his dad.”

“We better go back up,” said Marge as she punched the elevator button feverishly. But elevators have a mind of their own, and this one inexorably led us down, and only when we’d reached the lobby did it relinquish the reins of its functionality. And so moments later we were zooming back up again. Only when we arrived on Loretta’s floor, she was gone, and when we made our way over to her room, and knocked, there was no answer.

Yikes!

33

But then I put my ear to the door in a move born from desperation, and thought I heard a noise.

“She’s in there, all right,” I said.

“She’s in there,” said Odelia.

Chase knocked on the door again, and shouted,“Loretta? Are you all right? Loretta?”

“Loretta, open the door, it’s us,” said Marge, adding her voice to the chorus.

“Oh, don’t just stand there,” said Gran finally, when no answer was forthcoming. “Mr. Kingsley, tear down this door!”

Chase hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment, then a look of resolution came into his eyes, and he put his mighty shoulder against the door and gave it a powerful shove. When we all tumbled into the room, the sight that met our eyes was one to behold: there Loretta was, on the bed, with Sharif Maroun on top of her, his hands tightly wrapped around her throat, clearly not with the best intentions in mind!

A certain amount of screaming followed, but once again it was Chase who proved himself the man of action, by pouncing on the Sheikh’s advisor and bodily dragging him off the unfortunate novelist, and in doing so saving the woman’s life.

“She’s purple, Max,” said Dooley as he studied the novelist’s face. “Why is she purple?”

“Humans turn purple when they’re being strangled,” I explained.

“It’s not a good sign,” Brutus said. “It means they’re almost dead.”

“No, first they turn red, then purple, and finally when they’re dead they turn completely white,” said Harriet.

Cats, of course, always keep the same color, or at least on the surface. What we look like underneath our nice fur is our secret and one we will never tell!

“Loretta!” Marge cried, and in two great strides had reached the woman and was offering her support.

“We better get a doctor in here,” said Odelia with concern.

“No doctor necessary,” said Loretta, already recovering. “But a cop would come in handy right about now. That man tried to kill me!” she said, pointing an accusing finger at Sharif.

“I know, we saw it,” Gran said. “And as luck would have it, Chase here is a cop. Please do the honors, Chase.”

“You can’t arrest me,” said Sharif, who was sweating from the exertion, and panting, too. “I have diplomatic immunity, so you can’t touch me.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Marge.

“No, he’s probably right,” said Chase. “If he’s got diplomatic immunity he’ll walk.”

“So he can just try to murder Loretta and get away with it?” Marge cried. “No way!”

“Let’s get your uncle in here,” Chase suggested to Odelia, “and let him decide.”

“I think it’s pretty clear now,” said Odelia, “that your mother was killed, Loretta, and I think we know who did the killing.”

All eyes turned to Sharif, and when moments later suddenly the Sheikh walked in, carrying a bouquet of flowers, and took in the scene, he said, in a surprised voice,“What’s going on?”

“Your guy just tried to kill me,” said Loretta, still a little hoarse.

“What?!”

“It’s true, we all saw it,” said Marge.

The Sheikh turned to his advisor.“Have you lost your mind?”

“She’s a threat to you, sir,” said Sharif, who must have felt safe in the knowledge that whatever he said, nobody could touch him. “She was going to tell the whole story about what happened to her mother, and about the history of the Pink Lady. We don’t need that kind of attention, especially now that we’re about to sign a number of very lucrative business deals in this country.”

“I don’t believe this,” said the Sheikh. “You’re admitting that you tried to kill… my sister?”

“Merely eliminating an obstacle, sir,” said Sharif as he adjusted his costume and smoothed his hair, which had become ruffled in the scuffle.

“The same way you removed an obstacle when you killed her mother thirty-five years ago?” asked Odelia.

Sharif shrugged.“The lady was a nuisance. Something had to be done. She was going to flee the palace and tell the world what a backward nation we were, and what a terrible person the Sheikh was. So I handled her.”

“Handled her!” the Sheikh roared. “So you admit you murdered my father’s wife?”

“I didn’t personally kill her, sir. I merely supplied the materials, and organized the operation.”

“And what about my father? Did he order this?” asked the Sheikh.

“Oh, no, sir. I didn’t see the need to inform him.”

“But you did whisper in the man’s ear that he should distance himself from his wife, didn’t you?” asked Marge.

“Well, of course. The woman was threatening to destroy a tradition we spent centuries building. She wanted to abolish polygyny, the right of a man to marry multiple wives, and make sweeping changes, not just at the palace, but in society as a whole. She was a dangerous element and had to be isolated, then eliminated, for the greater good and to safeguard our traditions and way of life.”

“I don’t believe this,” said the Sheikh, upsetting his own very nice hair by dragging a hand through it. “So you murdered my father’s wife, and now you tried to murder her daughter, my sister.”

“Murder is such a loaded term, sir,” said Sharif. “I like to think of it as providing a permanent solution to a difficult problem.”

“Looks like this isn’t the first time you’ve done this,” Chase grunted, as he clearly had to restrain himself from giving the fellow a good thrashing.

“Look, I’m very sorry,” said the Sheikh. “If I’d known…” He turned to Loretta. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll live,” croaked Loretta, touching her throat, where we could clearly see Sharif’s fingers imprinted on her skin.

“This is just terrible. First off, I want you to arrest this man.”

“Sir!” said Sharif.

“I can’t,” said Chase. “He’s got diplomatic immunity, so we can’t touch him.”

“Fine. I’ll deal with him myself,” said the Sheikh. “And as far as you are concerned, I think I owe you all a large debt of gratitude. A debt of gratitude so big I don’t even know where to begin.” He offered Loretta a toothy smile—the man had a great dentist. “It took thirty-five years for us to meet, but now that I found you—or you found me—I don’t want to have this unexpected connection severed again. Please take me to meet your grandparents, so I can personally tell them what a fine job they did raising you, and to offer my sincere apologies for this man’s atrocities.”

“I merely did what was best for the country,” said Sharif stiffly.

“Well, you’ll be able to spend the rest of your life contemplating your crimes… in prison,” said the Sheikh. And when two burly guards finally materialized in the room, he said, “Please take this man into custody. He’s to be deported back to Khemed at once and tried for his crimes.”

And as Sharif was led away, the Sheikh shook his head.“What a terrible, terrible waste. I’ve vowed to change the way things are done in my country, and this is a good moment to start. By getting rid of the old regime, and instituting some sweeping changes.”

“Better watch out,” said Chase. “Or else they’ll try to strangle you, too.”

“Thank you for the warning, Mr. Kingsley. I’ll take the necessary precautions.” He regarded his sister’s bruises with a look of anger mixed with sadness. “I better take you to see my doctor.”

“You have a doctor?” Loretta croaked.

“Are you kidding? I never travel without my personal physician. One of the perks of being sheikh.”

We watched brother and sister leave, and just as they walked out, a man walked in.“Who asked for a hairdresser?” he announced, then frowned as he took in the strange scene.

“Fido!” said Dooley, then lowered his eyes to the Maine Coon at the man’s feet. “Buster!”

“Hey, you guys,” said Buster. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“You came back!” said Dooley as we all crowded around our friend.

“Of course!”

“Um… I guess I can come back later?” Fido said.

“I thought you were in California?” said Gran.

“I was, but things didn’t work out,” said the hair maestro.

“They didn’t need hairdressers over there?” asked Odelia with a smile.

“Well, I thought I’d end up with a group of like-minded individuals and work on the future of our planet, only when I got there I discovered that the Flat Earth Society was hopelessly divided. Part of the organization had decided they wanted to ask Elon Musk to drill a hole through the earth sothey could prove the earth is flat, while a different section wanted to organize an expedition to the world’s end and prove their theories that way. In the end the fighting and the bickering became too much for me, so I decided to chuck the whole thing and come back.”

“And now you’re working at the hotel?”

“I closed up my shop before I left, and my customers have all left me,” he said as he idly played with a comb. “So I just figured I’d start from scratch, and the hotel was the only place that offered to hire me.”

“I think you’ll find that if you open up that shop of yours again,” said Chase, clapping the other man on the back so hard his knees almost buckled, “that your customers will all come flocking back soon enough.”

“I’d come back to you,” said Gran as she touched her tiny white curls. “In fact I’ll come back right now. That hair salon at the mall stinks. They don’t know how to do a perfect perm.”

“Only you know how I like my hair done, Fido,” said Marge.

“Yeah, I missed you, too,” said Odelia.

“Just don’t mention this flat earth business again, will you?” said Marge. “It’s a real turnoff.”

“I won’t,” said Fido with a crooked smile. “I guess I went a little loony there for a while, didn’t I?”

“It’s that darned internet,” said Gran. “It turns everybody looney.”

“I know,” said Fido. “I watched a YouTube video on how to baste a turkey, and the next video was about how to shoot a turkey, and I don’t know how it happened, but suddenly I was watching videos about how the earth is flat, and I couldn’t stop! I watched those videos day and night—I hadthem on autoplay and they just became more and more cuckoo and in the end so did I!”

“That’s YouTube for you. You start with a turkey and end up with a cuckoo.”

“It’s the human brain,” said Dooley. “It’s a very delicate instrument, and a YouTube bombardment can easily destroy the balance that makes it all work together in perfect harmony.”

We all stared at the cat.

Dooley shrugged.“I watch a lot of Discovery Channel. At least it doesn’t melt your brain.”

A round of heartfelt laughter was his reward, and even Fido laughed, though of course he hadn’t understood a word Dooley had said. But the mere fact that three former customers had told him they’d come back in a heartbeat was enough to spirit a big smile onto the hair wizard’s face again.

Epilogue

Tex had fired up the grill, and had provided the rest of the family with an assortment of sausages, steaks, ribs and other goodies, and the scent of deliciousness had even caused our next-door neighbors Ted and Marcie Trapper to stick their heads over the fence and see where that wonderful smell was coming from. So Tex had very magnanimously invited the couple over, and since the Trappers never went anywhere without their precious sheepdog Rufus, the latter was now lying next to us on the porch, and was chewing at a very large rib. His best friend Fifi, a neighboring Yorkie, had also been invited, and was trying to chew through a piece of steak.

“Tex is definitely improving,” said Brutus as he savored the piece of prime beef he’d been fed.

“Yeah, he’s improving with leaps and bounds,” Harriet agreed as she dug her teeth into a hamburger patty.

“I think it’s because he’s finally reconciled himself with his position in life,” I ventured as I enjoyed the taste of a piece of chicken filet.

“And what is his position in life?” asked Dooley, who was nibbling a meatball.

“Being the town doctor, of course.”

We all glanced up at Tex. I still felt a little bad about the way I’d treated him, when all he tried to do was help me get rid of that diamond. Then again, it’s hard to control a bowel movement.

“I’m sorry, Tex!” I cried, not for the first time, I might add.

Tex raised his tongs in recognition. Even though my words eluded him, I think he grasped my intention. He’d forgiven me, I like to add, which just shows what a good-hearted man he is.

The rest of the family were all gathered around the table set up in Tex and Marge’s backyard, and thoroughly enjoying the feast.

“So what happened to Johnny?” asked Gran.

“Ancient history,” said Scarlett with a careless wave of her hand.

“Too attached to his ethically challenged partner?”

“Too needy,” Scarlett said as she pronged a potato and bit off a tiny piece. “After our second date he was talking wedding plans. So I told him I don’t do marriage, and I don’t do cohabitation, and when he kicked up a fuss I kicked him out.”

“Good riddance,” said Gran.

“Johnny is a nice person,” said Marge. “He just hangs out with the wrong crowd.”

“He is the wrong crowd,” said Gran.

“So what’s going on with Loretta?” asked Charlene.

“I was chatting with her last night,” said Odelia. “She’s in Khemed right now, and things are going great. Bab El Ghat rolled out the red carpet for her and her grandparents and installed them at the palace for the duration of their trip. He wants to make amends, and show them that he’s not like his dad. Also, he’s asked Loretta to advise him on some necessary changes to the archaic nature of certain Khemed customs. Like polygyny, the right of any man to marry multiple wives.”

“Next thing she’ll become the Sheikha,” said Uncle Alec as he savored his cold beer.

“So who’s this Loretta you’re talking about?” asked Ted Trapper.

“She’s the writer of this fantastic book,” said Marge, and handed a copy of The Sheikh’s Passion to the Trappers.

Marcie took it and nodded.“I read this. It’s great. I saw the other day that Hollywood has bought the rights. They’re turning it into a TV series.”

“Oh, I wonder who’ll play Sheikh Bab El Ehr,” said Marge excitedly, “and Loretta’s mother.”

“I don’t care who plays them, as long as they stay true to the book,” said Marcie. “Too often they change the whole story and I hate that.”

“So how are things with Fido?” asked Uncle Alec.

“He’s doing fine. His old customers have all returned,” said Marge, nodding. “So all’s well that ends well.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Gran. “When I went in there yesterday he was telling me this whole story about how the earth is actually hollow, and how strange creatures live under our feet.”

“Oh, dear,” said Marge. “Looks like we’ll have to have another talk with him.”

“And wean him off the YouTube. For good this time.”

“YouTube is overrated,” said Brutus. “Tik Tok is where the action is.”

I laughed.“Are you into Tik Tok now, Brutus?”

“You bet. Harriet and I made our first Tik Tok movie yesterday. Wanna see?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said indulgently, as Harriet fired up the tablet Odelia leaves lying around for us to play with.

Moments later we were all watching a short video of Brutus and Harriet moving to ABBA’s Waterloo and doing a funny little dance.

“Cute,” said Rufus as he yawned, showing us he wasn’t particularly impressed. “But you should see my Tik Tok.”

“You have a Tik Tok?” asked Brutus.

“Of course. Me and Fifi made it together,” he said.

“We love our Tik Tok, don’t we, Rufus?” said Fifi.

“Absolutely. We make a great team.” He instructed Harriet to surf to their channel, which was called Ru-Fi, and soon I had to admit Rufus was right: the short videos they’d posted—or that Marcie had posted for them—were fun. They jumped through hoops, played fetch with Ted, and generallydid the kind of stuff dogs are good at: basically what their humans told them to do.

“I like Harriet’s video better,” Dooley whispered in my ear.

“Me, too,” I whispered back.

“Why don’t we start our own Tik Tok channel, Max? I think it could be a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, why not? Odelia can film us and put everything online. But what could we do that would make people watch?”

“I know,” said Dooley. “We’ll solve mysteries.”

“Solve mysteries in under three minutes? That’s a stretch, Dooley, even for us.”

“Oh, I know, we can dance and shake our tushies, just like Harriet does. People love that stuff.”

I arched my eyebrows. Dancing and shaking my tush is not exactly my thing. Then again, if it made my friend happy, why not?

And to show us how it was done, Dooley now hopped down from the swing, and demonstrated a little dance he’d seen in another Tik Tok video.

We all laughed, and so did the humans, who encouraged Dooley to go on. Then a couple of the humans took out their phones, and soon he was doing a whole show.

“You’re a natural, Dooley,” said Brutus with a wide grin.

“You should have been a dance star,” said Harriet reluctantly. She likes to be the center of attention, and she didn’t appreciate sharing the limelight with Dooley.

“Your turn, Max,” said Odelia, holding up her phone.

“Yeah, Max,” said Gran. “Show us what you got.”

“I don’t ‘got’ anything,” I said. But since they were cheering me on, I had no alternative but to hop down, and strut my stuff.

Soon we were all dancing to the music, and even Rufus and Fifi joined in, and then it was the humans’ turn. And generally a good time was had by all. Even Tex stood shaking and swinging behind his grill, Uncle Alex danced with Charlene, Chase and Odelia demonstrated a few steps of a dance called the tango they’d recently picked up, and Scarlett and Gran showed us they weren’t too old to hitthe dance floor either. But Ted and Marcie beat us all: they actually danced a mean foxtrot, and moved like professionals!

“YouTube lessons,” said Ted, panting when the dance was done. “There’s a lot of them, and I mean alot.”

Okay, so YouTube can be used for good or for evil, and isn’t that the case with all technology? The evening wound down, and it was time to go to bed. At least for the humans. For us cats the night had only just begun. And as we walked along the sidewalk in the direction of the park, a feeling of extreme contentment filled me. “It’s nice to have friends, you guys,” I suddenly burst out.

“That’s your near-death experience talking, buddy,” said Brutus.

“What do you mean, near death? I was never near death.”

“Oh, yes, you were. If that diamond had slipped a little further down, it would have torn a hole in your gut the size of a melon.”

“No way!” Dooley cried. “A whole melon?”

“Yep, a melon, and then you wouldn’t be here right now, Max.”

“A melon is pretty big, isn’t it?” said Dooley.

“Guys, please, let’s not talk about gruesome stuff like that,” said Harriet.

“If that diamond had been in there five minutes longer,” Brutus said, undeterred, “it would have turned Max’s insides into mush. Like a blender!”

“No way!” said Dooley. “An actual blender!”

“Yep. Scrambled him up something good.”

Friends. You can’t live with them—but you can sure live without them, right? Though I have to admit I was still glad to have them.

“If that diamond had been in there for only a single minute more, it would have torn a hole in Max’s gut the size of Mount Everest!”

“No way! That’s a big hole, Brutus!”

Ugh. See what I mean?

38. PURRFECT CURE

Prologue

Angel Church had been walking along the road home for what felt like an eternity. She was a little unsteady on her feet after a night out with the girls. She would have driven her car home, but her friends had confiscated her keys. A precaution, since she was clearly a great deal over the limit. And since they, too, had imbibed more alcohol than was probably advisable, they’d taken a cab home. They’d offered to share, but she said she’d walk home—the fresh air would do her good.”

And so now she was gingerly navigating the one-mile distance back to the cozy little apartment where she lived with her mom, located in a leafy suburb of Hampton Cove, her small town. On any other night she probably would have felt a tinge of concern to be walking home alone in the middle of the night, but one of the side effects of replacing one’s blood with alcohol is that all sense of self-preservation goes flying out the window.

“Where are my keys?” she muttered to herself. The girls had taken her car keys, but had they also taken her house key? She couldn’t remember. She vaguely became aware that she had a minor weight dangling from her left arm, and when she glanced down saw to her surprise that a small purse was attached to that particular appendage. “Huh. How about that?” she murmured vaguely. At least a small portion of her mind was still functional, and determined to see its owner and proprietor home safe and sound.

An unusual sound reached her ear and she jerked her head up. It seemed to come from a nearby tree. It was one of those sounds one isn’t accustomed to when spending most of one’s life surrounded by the hallmarks of civilization, such as there are: the noise of cars and other motorized vehicles, and if asked she would have said it sounded like…

“Will you look at that. It’s an owl. Hello there, Mr. Owl. I hope you’re having a hoot!” She collapsed in giggles at her own amazing wit. “A hoot! Get it, Mr. Owl!”

The owl abruptly stopped hooting, as if it didn’t think the joke was all that hilarious.

Angel was still snickering under her breath at her own brilliance when suddenly a bright light lit up the night, and she glanced back to see what was going on.

A car had approached, and was driving at some distance behind her, the headlights blindingly bright. She held a hand to her eyes to shield them from the sudden glare, and also to protect her brain from this unwelcome intrusion. The organ was still, after all, trying to make its human stay upright and functional, and this introduction of a car into the situation compelled it to recalibrate.

“Car,” Angel muttered as she wondered why it wasn’t passing her as it should. Instead it kept on driving at a snail’s pace, following about thirty feet behind, high beams on.

“Hey, you can pass,” she bellowed to the car’s invisible driver as she gestured wildly to get a move on and make the world return to the peace and quiet of that gentle night.

But the driver, whoever he or she was, seemed to enjoy this silly game, and made no move to speed up.

For the first time since she’d set out on her trek home, Angel experienced a tinge of alarm. It niggled at the part of her brain that wasn’t yet fully soaked in alcohol, and it caused her to frown and consider her options. Option A: do nothing and pretend that the car wasn’t there. Option B: run into the woods and hide.And option C:… This was where unfortunately she drew a complete blank. There were always three options. That she knew from experience. So why could her hardworking brain only come up with two?

And then her body decided to make the decision for her, and abruptly veered right and disappeared into the woods at a modest little trot. It wasn’t a fully-fledged ‘I’m being chased by a chainsaw-wielding maniac and I have to run for my life’ kind of thing but more of a ‘I have no idea what the heck I’m doing and I hope that when I wake up tomorrow with a splitting headache I won’t remember this harrowing episode.’

Unfortunately for her, whoever the person in the car was had parked the automobile and was now in hot pursuit, as the crashing sounds through the brush behind her and the snapping of twigs and fallen branches clearly indicated.

“Oh, dear,” said her brain. “I think we’re in big trouble here, Angel. Run, girl—run for your life!”

Unfortunately Angel’s coordination wasn’t what it usually was, and so after suddenly arriving at and stopping short of tumbling into what looked like a small pond, she momentarily just stood there, uncertain of her next course of action. And this is when whoever was chasing her finally caught up with her. And when she turned and looked at the person, the eerie light of a full moon lit up her persecutor’s features, and it was a testament to the soundness of her faculties that even in her state of inebriation she still realized this wasn’t a good sign: the person was wearing a mask!

Uh-oh.

Unfortunately for her she never saw the club as it whizzed through the crisp night air and hit her right on the foggy noggin. And then the world suddenly turned as dark as her attacker’s outfit, as if someone had flicked the light switch. And Angel knew no more.

1

Dooley had been watching one of his favorite programs on television with bated breath, when all of a sudden he became aware of screams reaching his highly attuned ears. The screams seemed to come from the vicinity of the backyard, and so he reluctantly allowed his attention to be drawn away from the shenanigans of the Aztecs when confronted with Hern?n Cort?s, to focus on the sounds of distress instead.

“Max?” he said.

“Mh?” said his friend, who was napping happily on the couch right next to him.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” asked Max, who wasn’t the kind of cat who allows anything to intrude upon the perfect nap, whether it be the fate of the Aztecs or a person in jeopardy.

“I think I heard screaming.”

Max opened one lazy eye to take in the TV show as it was unfolding for an audience of one.“When an entire population is slaughtered by a bunch of marauding Spaniards eager to lay their greedy hands on your gold I think you’d scream too, Dooley.”

“But it didn’t come from the TV. It came from somewhere outside.”

Max frowned, and this time directed his own finely-tuned ears to turn like antennae and search for the sounds of distress Dooley had picked up.

“I don’t hear anything,” Max muttered at first. Then, as his frown deepened, and so did his concentration, he amended his earlier statement. “No, you’re right. There’s definitely someone screaming.”

“Do you think we should go and take a look?” asked Dooley. He really wanted to know what would happen to those poor Aztecs when confronted with that bloodthirsty Cort?s.

But Max had other ideas.“Let’s go,” he said curtly, and like only a feline can, immediately he was wide awake and ready for action, springing from the couch.

What a cat, Dooley thought as he followed his friend out through the pet flap. One minute he’s resting peacefully, oblivious to the world and its troubles, and the next he’s ready to help a human in need.

“It seems to come from back there,” said Max as they emerged into the bright sunlight and tried to get their bearings. He was gesturing to the field located behind the house, and Dooley followed the big blorange cat as he zoomed through the backyard belonging to their humans, through the hole in the hedge, and finally out on the other side, where whoever owned that piece of land had allowed it to lie fallow and turn into an amateur rainforest. Brambles and nettles had grown high, and so had thistles and other weeds.

Still following their keen ears, they soon arrived at a small clearing, where a bench had been placed by some unknown hand, right under the oak tree that dominated this part of the landscape. A swing had been attached to the strong branches of the gnarled old tree, and from that swing a child was now swinging, crying out in happy exultation as an older child pushed the swing and made it go ever higher.

“So where’s the emergency?” asked Dooley, looking around for the person in jeopardy.

“I think this is she,” said Max, gesturing to the little girl on the swing. “Kids,” he said, shaking his head with an obvious lack of enthusiasm at the young of the human species.

“I’m sorry, Max,” said Dooley. “I really thought someone was in danger.”

“She is,” said Max as they watched the kid go higher and higher. “This is not going to end well,” he predicted, and both cats sat there for a moment, at the edge of the small clearing, their eyes keenly following the kids’ every move. And then the inevitable finally happened: the swing swung too high, the girl was sent flying and took a hard landing. Lucky for her the landing spot was covered in weeds, and she simply rolled to a full stop out of sight, and judging from her loud giggle the ordeal hadn’t been painful in the least. On the contrary: this clearly had been the designated outcome of the game from the start.

“Humans,” said Max, “are bad enough, but human children are the absolute worst.”

Dooley listened carefully, for when Max spoke, he often allowed nuggets of pure gold to roll from his lips, which Dooley absorbed without delay. He knew from experience that he still had much to learn, and felt fortunate and grateful that he got to do so at the feet of the master, a wise cat like his best friend Max.

“Looks like she’s okay,” said Dooley when the kid emerged from the undergrowth, and grinned infectiously. Her dress looked like it might need urgent repair, but she was fine.

The older kid, who presumably was her brother and had managed to instigate his sister’s spectacular liftoff, looked less than excited when she immediately said, “Again!”

“No, Lisa,” said the boy. “We need to go. Mom will wonder what’s taking us so long.”

“Again!” the little tyke demanded, and stomped the ground for good measure.

The brother sighed, and said,“Okay, one more time, but this is the last one, okay? After this we’re going home, before Mom and Dad come looking for us.”

The girl screeched a happy screech, which was painful to Dooley’s sensitive ears.

“That’s what I heard!” he said, happy that the mystery was finally solved.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” said Max.

They watched as the girl mounted the swing, and moments later the game resumed.

“She’s going to break her neck one of these days,” said Max, and judging from the small measure of glee with which he spoke these words, the prospect was not disagreeable to him.

And they were just about to turn back and resume their homeward trek, when from that same undergrowth suddenly a small creature emerged. It looked very familiar, and when it spoke up, Dooley was happy to discover it was their friend Fifi from next door.

“Fifi!” said Dooley happily. Even though by all rights he should return home and discover what Hern?n Cort?s was up to, he was a sweet and garrulous cat, and never more happy than when chewing the fat with his friends, whether they be cats or, as in this case, a small and friendly Yorkshire terrier.

“Hey, Max, Dooley,” said Fifi as she came tripping up to them. She was licking her lips, a clear sign she’d just taken nourishment.

“So what’s going on with you?” asked Max indulgently. He might not like kids, but he was clearly fond of Fifi. “Shouldn’t you be in your own backyard instead of wandering around in this jungle?”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Fifi. “Kurt doesn’t know I’m out.”

Kurt Mayfield was Fifi’s owner, a retired music teacher and something of a grouch. If it’s true that dogs take after their owners, Fifi’s sunny disposition certainly blew that theory out of the water.

“I buried a bone,” Fifi announced now, looking slightly shamefaced, as if confessing some major transgression.

“Good for you,” said Dooley. He’d heard of this strange habit of burying bones. He had no idea why dogs did this, but he was a broad-minded cat, so he decided not to comment.

“And as I was burying it, I discovered something pretty cool,” the Yorkie continued, her shamefacedness quickly replaced by pretty excitement. “Wanna see?”

“Oh, why not?” said Max. “My perfect nap is ruined now anyway.”

They followed Fifi further afield, and soon came upon what looked like the wreck of an old car. A couple of tires had been dumped there, and also an old fuel tank, rusted through and quite devoid of fuel now.

“An old car,” said Max. “Nice find, Fifi.” He didn’t sound all that impressed, and Dooley didn’t blame him. He wasn’t really into car wrecks himself either. Hard to see the attraction.

“No, not the car,” said Fifi. “Come on. It’s right over there.”

And that’s when they came upon what looked like a pile of bones that just lay there, surrounded by old rags and such.

“Look at this,” said Fifi happily. “A treasure trove of bones! And they’re all mine!”

“Um…” said Max as he took in the scene. “Did you put these here, Fifi?”

“Oh, no. They were right there when I got here. Some other dog must have dug them up and then forgot all about them. Lucky me!”

“Have you touched them?”

“I touched the one I just buried.” She hesitated, then pointed to a spot where the earth had recently been disturbed and said shyly: “Over there. But don’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Of course not,” said Dooley, who had no interest whatsoever in old bones.

“I’m going to bury the rest, but it’s a big job, so I was trying to come up with a plan of campaign,” Fifi happily prattled on. “I think I’ll bury each bone separately, or maybe I could dig a big hole and bury all of them together at once. What do you think, Max?”

“I think you better leave everything exactly the way you found it, Fifi.”

Fifi’s face sagged. “But why?”

“Because I think these bones are human bones, and humans usually don’t appreciate it when someone messes with their remains. They’re very touchy about that sort of thing.”

At this, both Dooley and Fifi subjected the pile of bones to a little more scrutiny than before, and that’s when Dooley saw it: “You mean these bones…”

“Used to be a human being—when that human being was still alive, that is.”

“And those rags…”

“Their clothes—or what’s left of them.”

Dooley gulped a little, and suddenly he thought he had a good idea how that whole Aztecs versus Hern?n Cort?s story had ended: with a pile of bones!

2

Tex was looking in the bathroom mirror and inspecting his mop of white hair with a frown. “Honey,” he said when his wife Marge came walking in from the bedroom.

“Mh?” said Marge distractedly as she picked up a wet towel and gave it a sniff.

“Do you think I’m getting thinner on top?”

Marge glanced over to the mirror.“I don’t think so. Why? Have you been losing hair?”

“I’m not sure,” said Tex as he took a handheld mirror and held it behind him so he could inspect the back of his head. “It looks thinner to me. Or it could just be the light.”

“Let me see,” said Marge, coming up behind her husband and taking a random pluck of hair and inspecting it. “Looks fine to me, hon.”

“But on top?” Tex insisted. “Doesn’t it look a lot thinner on top all of a sudden?”

Marge stood on tippy-toes for a moment, but didn’t seem to share her husband’s concern. “Nope,” she said, tousling his hair affectionately. “Nothing to worry about.”

And then she went on her way, leaving him with a lingering doubt that not everything was okay up there. He sighed as he studied his face in the mirror. Getting old wasn’t a lot of fun. First his hair had gone all white in the space of only a couple of months, and now he was losing it? And then there were all those wrinkles, which hadn’t been there five years ago. Soon he’d be an old guy, and then what? He’d be Ol’ Doc Poole, and even as he imagined himself shuffling to his doctor’s office, and people greeting him with a mixture of respect and compassion, he felt sick to the stomach. And so when his mother-in-law came walking in five minutes later she encountered a noticeably glum-looking Tex.

“Don’t forget to eat the strawberries, Tex,” said Vesta. “They’re in the fridge.”

Tex grumbled something by way of response, and proceeded into the bedroom, where he put on his clothes and resigned himself for another day spent at the office advising people on how to stay fit and healthy. Maybe, he thought as he glanced out the window, it was time that he took some of that advice himself, and took better care of his own health.

And as he idly took in the scenery, he suddenly wondered what Max and Dooley and that small dog belonging to Kurt Mayfield were doing in the field behind the house. Looked to him as if they were holding some kind of meeting, standing near that old car wreck he’d told the town council to get rid of ages ago and which was still very much in evidence.

He shifted his attention to Ted Trapper, his other neighbor, and saw how that mild-mannered accountant was using the expensive pressure washer he’d recently bought and had bragged about to divest his deck of moss and other green eyesores. Then Ted caught sight of one of his precious garden gnomes, wavered a moment, then applied the high-powered tool on the gnome. Immediately the gnome exploded into a thousand pieces, and Ted’s anguishedcry could probably be heard all through the neighborhood. Tex committed the moment to memory, to brighten up an otherwise dull day, and the only regret he felt, as he gave Ted a jolly wave, was that he hadn’t caught the scene on video.

He proceeded down the stairs and into the kitchen, and his daughter Odelia, who’d popped in to borrow some eggs, must have noticed that dear old dad was in one of his moods again, and came over to give him a rub on the back. “Everything all right, Dad?”

“I’m losing my hair,’” he grumbled as he looked in the fridge for those strawberries Vesta had mentioned. “Soon I’ll be bald, and who knows what else life has in store for me.”

Odelia couldn’t suppress a smile, and seeing it reminded Tex that he was being a total grump. “I’m sorry, honey,” he said. “It’s just that getting old sucks, you know.”

“I know, Dad,” said Odelia indulgently, smiling with all the radiance of youth.

“Ted is cleaning his gnomes,” he said, abruptly changing the subject. “He bought himself one of those pressure washers—the most expensive one he could find at Costco’s—and he decided to try it on those damn gnomes of his. Of course it immediately fell apart. I could have told him, if he’d listen, but of course Ted always knows better.” The thought of Ted’s face crumpling tickled his funny bone once more, and so it was with a slight diminution of grumpiness that he poured himself a cup of hot black coffee and sat down to enjoy a hearty breakfast. “By the way, Max and Dooley are playing out by that old car wreck. You better tell them to stay away from there. They might hurt themselves.”

“Max and Dooley are always careful. They’ll be fine.”

He shrugged. In the Poole household the cats were mainly the womens’ concern. With no less than four cats divided between the two households, they were very well endowed with representatives of the feline species, and mostly Tex didn’t mind. The only thing he did mind was the hair. Even now, as he ladled a spoon of strawberry yogurt into his mouth, he suddenlynoticed a white hair adorning the main strawberry, ready to be ingested by this unsuspecting human. With a shake of the head, he plucked it out and wondered how much cat hair he’d swallowed in his life as a consequence of having to share home and hearth with those cats. And as he glanced over to Harriet and Brutus, who were eating their fill at their respective bowls, he suddenly found himself wondering why it was that cats never got bald. And now that he thought about it, dogs were the same way. “Honey?” he said, deciding to ask the expert. “Have you ever seen a bald cat?”

“No, I can’t say that I have,” said Marge, who was reading something on her phone.

“Dad, you really shouldn’t worry about losing your hair,” said Odelia, who was standing behind him, and was inspecting the crown of his head with deft fingers.

“I told him exactly the same thing,” said Marge, “but he doesn’t believe me.”

But Tex was too busy following up on this most recent brainstorm he’d just experienced. So cats and dogs didn’t lose their hair—ever? Not even when they got old and entered their senior years? It was definitely something he needed to follow up on.

“You have a tiny birthmark here, Dad,” said Odelia. “In the shape of a butterfly. So cute.”

“He has?” asked Marge, as she came to stand next to her daughter to join the inspection. “Oh, you’re right. Can you imagine I’ve been married to your father for twenty-five years and I’ve never seen this before?”

“What’s going on?” asked Vesta, who’d come stomping down the stairs and now joined the merriment. “What’s so interesting?”

“Tex has a birthmark in the shape of a butterfly,” said Marge.

“What do you know?” said Vesta as she also took a gander at the strange phenomenon.

“This is the first time I’ve seen this.”

“Of course it is. Before now, Tex’s hair was so thick and luxuriant you couldn’t see through the thicket. But now that he’s going bald all kinds of stuff will be showing up.”

Tex looked up sharply at this, causing Marge to yank at a small tuft of hair.“See?” he said. “Your mother is seeing it, too. Iam losing my hair.”

“Of course you’re losing your hair,” said Vesta, who never beat about the bush or spared a person’s feelings if she could help it. “You’re getting old, sonny boy. Soon you’ll have a nice billiard ball for a head, and then all of those weird spots will become visible to the whole world.” She grinned at her daughter. “I can’t wait to see what else comes floating to the surface. He probably has a whole collection of weird spots. Spots in all different colors and shapes. Bumps, too.”

Tex uttered an unhappy groan, the thought of going completely bald affecting him powerfully, as it does most men.

“Ma, don’t say such things,” said Marge reproachfully.

“Why not? It’s the truth. Better to rip off that band-aid than to coddle.”

“Don’t listen to Ma, honey,” said Marge soothingly as she placed a tender kiss on the top of his head. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Oh, I don’t? Of all the men I know only two still have a full head of hair, and those are Dick Bernstein and Rock Horowitz, and the only reason for that is…” She hesitated when she caught Tex’s feverish and intent look.

“Yes?” he said. “What’s the reason they still have a full head of hair?”

“I’m sorry,” said Vesta, and snapped her lips closed and shook her head.

“Tell me!” Tex cried.

“I can’t! I promised them not to divulge their secret, and I may be many things but I’m not a tattletale,” said the woman who was probably the biggest tattletale in town.

Tex felt a powerful urge to throttle his mother-in-law, but years of training had taught him to practice restraint, so he let the moment pass, and soon he was calm again.

“Don’t listen to Gran, Dad,” said Odelia, also placing a loving kiss on the top of her dad’s head. “You’re not going bald.”

And as Vesta popped a piece of bread in the toaster and Odelia left with her eggs, and Marge resumed reading on her phone, Tex found his eyes once again drifting down to Harriet and Brutus, who were now licking themselves, as they usually did once they’d eaten their fill. And that’s when he made up his mind: he would discover the secret to the perfectly healthy head of hair, and he would crack that secret code. Whatever it took.

3

After our discovery we hurried home to share this bit of news with Odelia, and hopefully get a full investigation going into the origin of those bones, which, I was almost certain, had once belonged to a human being.

“What do you think happened to that person, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Murdered,” said Fifi decidedly. “As a dog, I have a superior sense of smell, and I’ll tell you right now that this whole thing smells to murder for sure.”

“It could be that the person simply died,” I said. “Not every person who dies is murdered, Fifi.”

“I know, but what human would go out to that field and die? There are better places.”

“You talk as if a person can simply pick and choose where they’re going to die,” I countered. “Death tends to sneak up on a person, Fifi. It doesn’t follow orders.”

Fifi thought about this for all of five seconds, then shook her head decidedly.“No, it was murder, Max. I’m calling it.”

“Fine,” I said. There was no point for me to argue the case, since there was no way to know for sure what had happened to this person—or even if it was a person. Until the police got involved, and a forensic investigator, the whole thing was shrouded in mystery.

“Of course it could be that this person died in their bed,” said Dooley, adding his own two cents, “and that dogs took the bones and dragged them all the way out here to bury.” He directed a quizzical look at Fifi, but the latter shook her head.

“Don’t look at me like that, Dooley. I’m not the kind of dog who goes and picks up stray human bones and then dispatches them to fallow fields far afield. I’m very choosy on the kinds of bones I like to pick, and human bones definitely aren’t in my wheelhouse.”

“You were going to bury them, Fifi,” Dooley pointed out. “You said so yourself.”

“I was thinking about burying them—thinking about doing something is not the same as actually doing it, Dooley. And I did ask you for your advice first, didn’t I?”

“Only because we just happened to pass by. If we hadn’t passed by, you would have gone and buried them for sure.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“You buried one of them.”

“One is none, Dooley.”

“What does that even mean!”

We’d arrived in our backyard, and so I went in search of Odelia to give her this big piece of news. I finally found her inside, in the kitchen, having breakfast with Chase. Judging from the smell they were having scrambled eggs and toast—an excellent choice, if I may say so. “Odelia?” I said. “You might want to have a look at some bones that were left in that field behind the house.”

“They’re human bones,” Dooley added. “And Fifi thinks they belong to someone who was murdered.”

“Very good of you to give credit where credit is due, Dooley,” said Fifi appreciatively.

“Max says there’s a skeleton lying in the field behind the house,” said Odelia, translating my words for her husband, who sat reading a comic book he’d borrowed from his father-in-law, and sipping from a cup of piping hot black coffee. He looked up at the mention of the word skeleton, and, not unlike a pointing dog, was ready for action. “A skeleton?” he said, sitting upright and ready to go where duty called. “Who found it?”

“Fifi,” I said dutifully. Though I didn’t mention the Yorkie was about to bury the bones, and if Dooley and I hadn’t arrived on the scene, that skeleton would probably never have been found. But then that’s dogs for you: they tend to go off half-cocked.

“I’m going to take a look,” said Chase, getting up while still holding onto his cup of coffee and taking a sip then putting it down. “Are you coming?”

“Absolutely,” said Odelia, and then both of our humans were off, with Dooley and myself and of course Fifi leading the way.

“An actual skeleton,” said Chase, sounding as happy as a kid who’s found buried treasure. “I wonder how it got there, and how long it’s been there, and who it belongs to. Are you sure it’s human, Max?”

“He’s sure,” said Odelia, without consulting me.

“Human skeletons have a tendency to decay,” Dooley explained for Fifi’s sake, “and the level of decay can tell an expert how long ago the person died. I saw a documentary about this on the Discovery Channel. There’s a place where they keep bodies in all kinds of different circumstances and then monitor the decay. It’s very yucky, but also interesting.”

“Trust me when I tell you, Dooley,” said Fifi, “that this person has been there exactly three months, three days and five hours—could also be six.” She stuck her nose in the air. “You don’t have to teach me bones,” she explained. “As a dog I’m an expert on bones.”

“You should have been a police dog, Fifi. They could really use a dog like you.”

Fifi gave us a wistful look.“I wish,” she said fervently. “But I’m too small to be a police dog.”

“Would you like to be a police dog?” I asked now. I’m not a big fan of dogs in general, but it is true that they have a certain usefulness when set about performing a specific set of tasks. Not as useful as cats, obviously, but then most cats have no interest in entering the field of policing, and dogs do, since their natural tendency is to obey orders, something cats feel goes against their innate sense of independence. And if you say: but, Max, you follow orders all the time, then I’m going to tell you that I don’t. I respect Odelia, and if she asks me to do something, I weigh therequest, then decide for myself whether to engage or not. Big difference!

We arrived at the spot indicated, and Chase looked about as giddy as a puppy ready to try out a new bouncy ball.“It’s a skeleton, all right,” he announced happily. “Max called it.”

“Actually I called it, Chase,” said Fifi.

“Fifi called it,” I told Odelia, who decided not to translate this message for her husband, since it didn’t make any difference. Also, Chase was studying the scene now, an intense frown cutting a groove in his brow. He crouched down and inspected the bones, getting close and personal with theremains. “If I’m not mistaken there’s parts missing,” he said. He then darted a curious look at Fifi. “The dog been at it, you think?”

“Must be,” said Odelia.

“It wasn’t me!” said Fifi, clearly resenting the accusation. “I didn’t touch them!”

“You touched one bone, Fifi,” Dooley reiterated his earlier statement.

“One is none, Dooley! One is none!”

“There’s one more bone over there,” I said, and pointed Odelia in the right direction.

“I think it’s time we called your uncle,” said Chase, as he rose again and took out his phone. He now directed a curious look at the car wreck which sat only a dozen or so feet away from the skeleton. “Whose car is that?” he asked as he put his phone to his ear.

“The land belongs to Blake Carrington,” said Odelia. “So the car must be his, too. I know Dad has been begging the town council for years to get rid of it, but no luck so far.”

“Years, huh? I wonder if this poor schmuck has been lying here for years, too. Alec? Yeah, I think you better get down here. To the house. We found a skeleton in Blake Carrington’s field. Oh, and better get Abe out here as well. Looks to me like it’s human.” After he’d disconnected, he frowned pensively. “Odd,” he said, glancing around.

“What?” said Odelia as she snapped a couple of pictures of the skeleton with her phone.

“This field is surrounded on all sides by houses, right?”

“Except on that side,” said Odelia, pointing in a south-southwestern direction, if I wasn’t mistaken.

“So how come it took Max to finally make the discovery?”

“It wasn’t me,” I said quickly as Fifi opened her mouth to speak.

“I see what you mean,” said Odelia, nodding. “You think someone recently put this here?”

“I mean, people come here all the time, right?” the burly cop said, indicating what looked like the remnants of a fire. Plenty of cigarette butts lay in its vicinity, and a couple of crumpled beer cans and even an empty bottle of Scotch.

“Could be that they didn’t notice?”

“That they were having a party next to a dead person? I doubt that very much, babe. They might be high on whatever substance they like to imbue, but they’re not that high. No,” he said as he rubbed his impressive chin. “I think this person was recently dumped here. Which makes me wonder: why now? And why here?”

4

Since there wasn’t anything more for us to do out there, we decided to return to the house and have a bite to eat. The smell of breakfast had reminded me I hadn’t had anything to eat in at least one or two hours, and if I wanted to keep up my strength it was imperative I stock up on the necessary nutrients andvitamins ASAP. And so we left the humans to poke around that field for possible clues as to how that body could have gotten there, and were soon enjoying a nice and healthy snack. Fifi had returned home as well, since Kurt was already hollering her name. Kurt gets worried when Fifi wanders off, andis never happier than when he can keep an eye on her. Dog owners are like that: if their precious pet wanders off, they freak out. Cat owners are exactly the opposite: if their precious pet doesn’t wander off, that’s when they freak and think something is wrong.

“It’s probably a mummy,” said Dooley now, after having eaten his fill and assuming the position to start grooming himself.

“A mummy?” I asked, still busy gobbling up those precious nuggets. In my defense I’m probably twice Dooley’s size, and so I need to take in more nourishment than my gray Ragamuffin friend.

“Yeah, you know, like the Egyptian mummies? I think they probably have one at the local museum, and some vandals could have decided to steal it and put it here as a joke.”

“I very much doubt whether they have actual Egyptian mummies in our very modest local museum, Dooley. Most likely they simply keep some old stones and local fossils down there, but no mummies.”

“But where else could it have come from, Max? It must be a mummy. They simply removed the bandages and put it in that field.” But then his eyes widened to their fullest extent. “Or maybe it’s a zombie! It woke up one night and decided to take a walk in the neighborhood, only it got tired and decided to take a nap, and that’s when Fifi found it!”

“Aren’t zombies usually more… juicy?”

“Usually, but why can’t a zombie be a skeleton?”

“First off, zombies don’t exist, Dooley,” I said. “They’re simply an urban legend. And secondly, if that was a zombie, don’t you think it would have woken up by now? Even zombies don’t like it when a group of people stand around jabbering away, after all.”

“No, I see your point,” he said, his excitement slightly dampened by my use of logic. “So what is it, Max? And where did it come from?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Dooley,” I said. And frankly I wasn’t all that interested either. Judging from the state of those bones, that human had died quite a long time ago—possibly dozens or even hundreds of years. And frankly the whole thing didn’t interest me. Who cares if some old skeleton turns up in a field? Not me, I can assure you. When you’ve lived to be my age, you learn how to conserve your energy, you see, and it was with that idea in mind that I decided to take a nice long nap, while the humans ran around in circles, falling over themselves to take a look at a pile of boring old bones.

And I’d just closed my eyes when suddenly the sound of the pet flap alerted me that we were no longer alone. And when I opened a lazy eye to see what was up, I saw to my surprise that none other than Shanille had decided to grace us with her presence.

Shanille is cat choir’s director, and only very rarely makes house calls.

“Shanille?” I said. “What brings you out here?”

“Oh, Max,” she said, and if cats were in the habit of writhing their paws, she looked as if she would have much liked to engage in that kind of behavior right now. In other words, she looked extremely distraught.

“What’s going on?” Dooley asked.

“One of my humans has gone missing,” Shanille announced, a tremulous note in her voice.

“One of your humans?” I asked. “I thought you only had the one human: Father Reilly.”

“No, well, officially Father Reilly is my human, but the person who takes care of me on a daily basis, and of Father Reilly, too, is Marigold. She’s the housekeeper at the rectory.”

“And something happened to her?” I asked, understanding dawning.

“Not to her, but to her daughter Angel. She went out last night with some friends, and never came home.”

“So… has her mother tried calling these friends? What do they say?”

Shanille looked as if she was on the verge of tears.“She’s called all of them, frantic with worry, as you can imagine, and none of them have any idea where Angel might be. They left her in downtown Hampton Cove around three o’clock last night, and she said she was going to walk home, since she doesn’t live far away, but this morning Marigoldfound her bed unslept in, and when she tried calling, her calls went straight to voicemail. Oh, Max, you have to do something—she’s such a sweet kid. The best there is. And her mom is the best human a cat can ever hope to find—well, except Odelia maybe,” she allowed.

“Has Marigold contacted the police?”

“No, she hasn’t.” She heaved a sigh. “Marigold doesn’t believe in the police.”

“Doesn’t believe in the police? What are you talking about?”

“She and Uncle Alec have long been locked in a feud, and Marigold has sworn an oath never to ask for his help.”

“So her daughter is missing, and she won’t go to the police?”

Shanille nodded.“So you see, Max? I really need your help. We have to find Angel.”

Dooley suddenly looked up in alarm.“Oh, no, Shanille!”

“What is it?” asked Shanille, blinking rapidly.

“I think we found Angel—we found her this morning!”

“What!”

“Yes, in the field behind the house.”

“Dooley,” I said warningly.

“Well, actually Fifi found her. She thought it was just another pile of bones, you see, and wanted to bury them, the way she always does with bones. You know what dogs are like. When they see a bone, they—”

“Dooley, what are you talking about?!”

“Well, the bones—it must be Angel.”

Shanille’s face crumpled like a used tissue. “God, no!”

“It can’t be Angel,” I said, finally getting a word in edgewise.

“But it has to be, Max,” said Dooley. “It’s too much of a coincidence: first this girl goes missing and this morning we find that skeleton.”

“Skeleton!” Shanille cried.

“It’s not her, I’m telling you!” I said. “It takes years for a human body to turn into a skeleton, and if Angel was alive last night, it stands to reason it can’t possibly be her.” When Dooley looked skeptical, I prompted, “Remember the documentary you saw?”

“Oh, right,” said my friend finally. He then turned to Shanille. “Max is right. It can’t be your Angel. Unless of course her killer managed to turn her into a skeleton overnight.”

“Oh, Dooley,” I said with a sigh.

5

And so off we went, in search of Shanille’s human’s daughter. Now the problem with cats functioning as private detectives is that we can’t make ourselves understood by humans. So if for instance we want to ask a potential witness what they saw, they’re simply going to smile and give us a pat on the head if they’re cat people, orgive us a kick in the rear if they’re not. Neither response is helpful, or brings us closer to resolving the mystery we’re trying to tackle.

So you’re asking me why I didn’t ask Odelia to take the matter in hand? Because she was busy with the skeleton, that’s why, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but humans are very much single-taskers. Oh, I know there’s this notion that women are multi-taskers and men are single-taskers, but that’s just a myth. As a rule all humans can only do one thing well at a time, before moving onto something else. If they try to tackle several things at once, that’s when things get messy. They go a little screwy in the head, you see. So I decided not to bother Odelia, and to see if we couldn’t figure this one out ourselves.

And as luck would have it, we almost bumped into Harriet and Brutus as we emerged from the pet flap.

“Where are you off to?” asked Brutus suspiciously. Lately someone’s been sneaking kibble from his bowl, and I know he suspects either me or Dooley. I know this because he told me yesterday: “You’ve been sneaking food from me, Max—or was it you, Dooley?”

I assured him that it wasn’t us, but I don’t think he believed me. I can tell you in confidence now that it was actually Rufus, Ted Trapper’s sheepdog. He likes to sample some of our superior cat kibble from time to time. Add some variety to his diet.

“We’re trying to find Shanille’s human’s daughter,” I told him now. “Wanna come?”

Brutus’s face immediately cleared. “Oh, sure,” he said. He may get grumpy sometimes, especially when someone steals his food, but that black cat is always up for a challenge.

“I didn’t know Father Reilly had a daughter?” said Harriet as she fell into step beside us.

“It’s not Father Reilly’s daughter,” said Shanille. “It’s Marigold’s.”

“Marigold?”

“Marigold is Father Reilly’s housekeeper, and practically a member of the family. She makes sure the rectory is spic and span, that Father Reilly eats his three square meals a day, and generally runs the place.”

“So is she Father Reilly’s wife?” asked Dooley.

“No, Dooley,” said Shanille. “Father Reilly is a priest, and priests aren’t allowed to get married.”

“Oh,” said Dooley, chewing on this for a moment.

“So where was Angel last seen?” I asked.

“Well, she and her friends all went clubbing last night, and her friends say they left her in front of the Cocky Cauldron and watched her take off in the direction of home.”

“Home is with Father Reilly and Father Reilly’s not-wife, right?” said Dooley.

“No, Marigold and Angel live in an apartment in a new development in Bickersfield.”

“So what do the police say?” asked Harriet.

“Marigold doesn’t believe in the police,” I said, earning myself a grateful smile from Shanille. It’s not a lot of fun having to explain the whole story twice.

“She doesn’t believe in the police?” asked Brutus. “What’s that supposed to mean? The police isn’t something you either believe or don’t believe in, Shanille. The police aren’t God.”

“Angel’s mom had a fight with Uncle Alec,” I explained. “So now she doesn’t want anything to do with him.”

“A fight with Uncle Alec!” Harriet said, her eyes shining a little brighter. “What was the fight about?”

“I don’t know,” said Shanille. “And frankly I don’t care. All I know is that Marigold doesn’t want to ask Alec for anything. They’re not on speaking terms.”

“Not even when her daughter goes missing? That’s kind of extreme, don’t you think?”

“It may be extreme, but that’s just the way it is. So are you going to help me find Angel or are you going to stand there and argue about Marigold’s beef with the police all day?”

Harriet gave Shanille an annoyed glance. You don’t tell a Persian what to do, after all. They can decide that perfectly well for themselves, thank you very much.

“Okay, so I hate to say this, you guys,” I said. “But maybe, just this once, we should consider recruiting the services of… a dog.”

“A dog!” said Harriet, giving me a look of extreme surprise.

“Dogs have a unique ability that comes in handy in cases like these,” I said. “You give them something to smell that used to belong to the missing person, and before you know it, they’ve picked up the trail, and followed it all the way to the actual person. It’s uncanny.”

“I think we both know that whatever dogs can do, cats can do better, Max,” said Harriet.

“Hear, hear,” said Brutus.

“So there will be no recruiting of dogs, all right? Not on my watch!”

“I think Max may have a point,” said Shanille, striking the discordant note. “Look, all I want,” she added over Harriet protestations, “is to find Angel, okay? And frankly I don’t care how we do it—without the help of dogs, if we can, with if we must. Though frankly I don’t hold thesame grudge against dogs Harriet seems to have. No offense, Harriet.”

“I don’t have a grudge. I like dogs just as much as the next cat!” said Harriet. “But we don’t need them, that’s all I’m saying. They can only cramp our style and distract us. I mean, we all know what dogs are like. Annoying!”

“Good to know,” suddenly a voice announced from our rear, and when we turned around, we found ourselves in the company of Rufus.

“I wasn’t talking about you, Rufus,” Harriet quickly backpedaled. “I was talking about other dogs.”

“What other dogs? I’m the dog you meet the most,” said Rufus, who looked insulted.

“I was talking about… um… well, how about that dog that lives across the street?”

“What dog that lives across the street? There is no dog that lives across the street.”

“Look, Rufus, if you could spare us a moment of your time,” I said, deciding to nip this argument in the bud before things got out of paw. “Shanille’s human’s daughter is missing, and so we were hoping you could give us the benefit of your superior sense of smell to try and find her.”

“I’m sorry, Max,” said Rufus, and gestured to the leash Ted had him on. “But even if I wanted to help you, I can’t.”

“Can’t you, like, escape?” asked Dooley.

“Can’t you see he doesn’t want to help us?” said Harriet. “He doesn’t care about Shanille’s human’s daughter, and he doesn’t care about us. In fact all Rufus cares about is his reputation, and if he were to join us on this quest, he’d have to confess that dogs don’t have that great sense of smell after all. That the whole thing is simply a PR stunt perpetrated by Hollywood to make us think that dogs are superior to cats—which they’re not,” she quickly added, in case we hadn’t caught her drift.

The big fluffy dog looked as if he was getting a little hot under his collar now, and growled,“Dogs do have a superior sense of smell, Harriet, and if not for this damn leash Ted has me on, I would be more than happy to prove it to you.”

“Well, then prove it right now,” Harriet challenged the dog. “Yank that leash and free yourself from Ted’s command. What are you, a dog or a mouse?”

“Look, there really is no need for…” I began, but then before our very eyes, suddenly Rufus did give his leash a vigorous yank, and started to follow us as our party of five put itself into motion once more.

“Rufus!” said Ted as he was obliged to follow along. “Rufus, where are you going?”

“I’m going to save a woman,” said Rufus. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t stop me, Ted!”

“But Rufus,” said Ted, as he awkwardly followed along—Rufus is a very big dog, you see, and in fact it’s safe to say that he’s half sheep, half dog, and probably half mule, too, as he can be quite mulish when he wants to be. And his size now compelled Ted to follow us.

“Look at that,” said Brutus with a grin. “The dog is walking the man for a change.”

And indeed it now looked as if Rufus was in charge, and not Ted. People all along the street stood watching the strange scene of five cats and one very large dog, followed by a flustered-looking Ted.

“Maybe Ted can help us find that girl,” said Harriet. “Humans do have their qualities, you know.”

“Impossible,” I said. “Ted doesn’t understand us, and so we have no way of explaining to him what we’re after.”

“Oh, I can make him understand,” said Rufus, and stopped to bark up at a lamppost.

“Really, Rufus?” said Harriet with an eyeroll. “You have to pee already? Talk about being a walking, talking clich?.”

“No, wait a moment, Harriet,” I said. “Look what’s been plastered to the lamppost.”

We all looked up, and saw that someone had put a Missing Persons flyer on that lamppost. It depicted a freckle-faced blond young woman with pleasant demeanor. Not exactly pretty, but not unpretty either, and above it the words,‘Have you seen Angel Church?’

“Angel Church?” asked Dooley. “Is Angel really called that?”

“She is,” said Shanille. “Very appropriate for a rectory housekeeper’s daughter.”

Ted, whose attention had been attracted by Rufus’s frantic barking, now studied the Missing Persons poster for a moment, then said, “You want to find this girl, buddy?”

Rufus actually barked again at this, and so Ted patted his head affectionately.“All right. If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”

“Amazing,” said Harriet, and I think she spoke for all of us when she said that.

And so now our small company had been expanded with one human, which was a good thing. Humans always come in handy. And even though Ted is a bookkeeper and not a detective, bookkeepers have an innate sleuthing capacity, as they’re always looking through your accounts trying to find what you did wrong, and to look for those loopholes the taxman hasn’t closed up yet. And we hadn’t even reached the end of the block when Marcie also joined us. She’s Ted’s wife, you see, and I assume when Ted was texting moments before, that he was texting his wife, and telling her what was going on.

“So we’re trying to find a missing girl?” said Marcie, confirming my suspicions. “Rufus will find her for us, won’t you, boy?”

“Yes, Marcie,” said Rufus happily, cocking an eyebrow at Harriet as if saying, ‘See?They believe in me.’

And just when we were about to set out on our adventure, suddenly one more addition appeared on the scene in the form of Fifi.“I escaped, you guys,” she said, panting happily. “But don’t tell Kurt, okay?”

“We won’t,” I assured the tiny doggie.

“So what’s going on?”

“We’re looking for a missing girl,” Rufus said, and gestured once more to that poster on the lamppost. “And we could sure use your help, Fifi.”

“You got it, Chief!” said Fifi. “Let’s go!”

6

“So what do you think, Uncle Alec?” asked Odelia.

“I have absolutely no idea,” her uncle grumbled as he dragged a hand across his scalp.

Abe Cornwall, the county coroner, hadn’t arrived yet—they all hoped he would be able to tell them what was going on, and if a crime had been committed here. “What do you think, Chase?” she asked her husband, who stood inspecting the nearby car wreck.

“I think whoever owns this piece of junk should probably get rid of it,” he grunted.

“I can tell you who owns it, but it won’t do you much good,” said the Chief. “Blake Carrington owns the land, and that wreck used to belong to his son Steven, who wrecked it in a street car race one night about ten years ago.”

Chase quirked an eyebrow.“A street car race?”

Uncle Alec nodded.“You’re probably too young to remember, Odelia, but we had a real problem with kids using the streets of Hampton Cove as the scene for their street races. This went on for a couple of summers, until Steven Carrington crashed his car and died on impact. That pretty much ended that particular pastime. His father never got over the death of his son, and decided to leave the wreck as a shrine to his boy.”

“It happened here?”

“It happened right here.”

Odelia’s and Chase’s eyes now traveled to the bones that were spread out on the ground, then to the rags lying next to them. Chase crouched down and inspected what looked like the remnants of a jersey. “There’s letters here,” he said. “Looks like… an insignia of some kind. I can make out anS, an E…”

“What was the name of Carrington’s son?” asked Odelia.

“Um, Steven,” said Uncle Alec, then his eyes widened slightly. “You don’t think…”

“I think these bones just might belong to Steven Carrington.”

“That’s impossible. I was at Steven’s funeral. He’s buried at St. John’s cemetery.”

“So maybe his father had him reinterred here?” Chase suggested.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” the Chief suggested. “Let’s just sit tight and wait for Abe to tell us what’s going on. Though I have to admit that it’s a mighty big coincidence that these bones would belong to a person wearing the same jersey Steven Carrington might have been buried in.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Tex had been thinking hard all the way to the office, and by the time he arrived there the vague contours of a plan had formed in his mind. What helped him formulate said plan was the fact that he was, after all, a doctor, and as such used to dealing with the kind of issues that trouble a person. He was facing a problem and so all he had to do was think up an appropriate solution. It’s what he did on a daily basis with his patients, so now he was going to apply that same logic to himself and the problem he was facing.

He arrived at the office and was surprised to find that Vesta was already seated behind her desk, playing Scrabble on her computer.

“You got here early,” he said.

“Yeah, I thought I’d start half an hour earlier so I can take a long break. Scarlett wants me to meet this uncle of hers who flew in from Tahiti yesterday. Guy worked there all his life as a missionary, and now he’s finally coming home to retire.”

“Scarlett’s uncle is a missionary? How old is he?”

“Ninety-six. He’s fit for an old geezer. She showed me some pictures, and he’s still driving a car and hauling water from his well.”

“So why is he retiring?”

“He feels he’s worked hard enough, and now he wants to have some fun.”

“Have some fun!”

“Yeah, he wants to travel, see the world. Maybe meet a woman and settle down.”

“But… you said he’s a missionary?”

“Uh-huh. So?”

“So aren’t missionaries supposed to be celibate?”

“I don’t know, Tex. But I’ll be sure to ask him.”

“Ninety-six,” said Tex. Then a sudden thought occurred to him. “Do you have a picture of this guy?”

“Sure.” Vesta took out her phone and showed him a picture of a robust-looking man who looked not a day over sixty. Most importantly: he had a full head of hair!

“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Tex as he studied the picture of the rosy-cheeked nonagenarian.

“You don’t mind, do you, that I take a long lunch?”

“No, absolutely not,” he said, “on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“That you introduce me to Scarlett’s uncle.” He tapped the picture, causing it to zoom in on that amazing crop of healthy hair. “I want to ask him something very important.”

7

Our small procession was still going nicely, though I could tell that Ted and Marcie were a little uncertain on how to proceed. Rufus was leading the way, and so far his humans were indulging him and allowing him to lead.

“Don’t you think we should focus our energy on that skeleton?” Fifi said now. “I feel like it’s important. There’s a story there, Max. Bones always tell a story.” She licked her lips, indicating that her interest in those bones might be personal. Clearly she hadn’t completely given up on the pleasing prospect of burying them—dogs will be dogs.

“And I think it’s more important to find a person who might still be alive, instead of the people responsible for putting a skeleton in some field somewhere,” I returned.

She thought about this for moment, and finally had to admit I had a point.

We’d arrived in downtown Hampton Cove, and proceeded to the point where Angel had said goodbye to her friends, before venturing off on her own—never a sound proposition when under the influence of alcohol and being all by yourself in the middle of the night. Though I think the first probably accounted for the second: alcohol has a tendency to make a person lose the capacity to make the right decisions.

The Cocky Cauldron is one of those new clubs where all the cool people go. It’s not much to look at during the daytime but at night they turn on the neon lights and the place is rocking. Or so I’ve heard. Thumping music and a throng of revelers is not my cup of tea.

“So this is where Angel was last seen?” I asked, just to make sure.

“Yeah, according to her friends this is where they left her,” said Shanille.

We turned to Rufus and Fifi, and Harriet said,“Show us what you’re made of. Sniff!”

And sniff they did—sniffing all around the sidewalk in front of the club as if their lives depended on it. But first Rufus, then Fifi came up empty. “It’s no good,” said Fifi.

“Yeah, we’re going about this backward,” Rufus agreed. “First we need to smell something that belongs to Angel, so we can know what she smells like, see?”

I glanced over to Shanille.“Do you have something that belongs to Angel?”

“I do, but we have to take a detour.” And she proceeded to lead the way. I surmised we were heading to St. John’s Church, where Angel’s mom spends a great deal of her time.

“Where are we going?” asked Marcie.

“I have absolutely no idea,” said Ted. “But it’s a great adventure, don’t you think?”

“Does it also strike you as odd, Ted, that the cats are leading, and Rufus is following?”

“And even more odd: we’re following them!”

“You know, rumor has it that Odelia’s cats actually talk to her. And to Marge and Vesta.”

“I’m sure that’s exactly what it is: a rumor.”

“No, but Ida Baumgartner told me, and Marina Swath, and also Blanche Captor and even Rory Suds from the pharmacy. With so many people saying the same thing, there has to be some truth to it, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, honey. Odelia and her mom and grandma may be crazy about those cats, but that doesn’t mean they can actually talk to them. No, I think it’s just gossip. You know what people are like. They’ll say anything.”

“If you say so,” said Marcie, but she didn’t look entirely convinced.

We’d arrived at the church and now entered the impressive building, with Shanille still in the lead, and the rest of the small company following in her wake. She made a beeline for the sacristy, which is the small room at the back of the church where Father Reilly likes to take a moment to gather his thoughts—and also to put on those snazzy garments—before he steps behind the altar, and it was here that she now entered.

“What are we doing here?” asked Marcie, her voice having dropped to a whisper.

“You’re asking me?” Ted whispered back.

“I’ve never been in here before. You?”

“No, me neither. I feel like I’m trespassing or something.”

“Look,” said Shanille, as she stopped in front of a small desk. “This used to belong to Angel when she was little. It was her desk. After she outgrew it, Marigold put it here.” She gave Rufus and Fifi an uncertain look. “Do you think you’ll be able to pick up her scent?”

“Let’s give it a shot,” said Fifi as she shared a look with her friend.

And so both dogs set to sniffing around the small desk, and finally Fifi nodded.

“I do pick up something,” she said. “But it’s pretty vague.”

But then Rufus said,“Over here, Fifi. There’s something shoved under there.” He dragged it out with his teeth, and when he put it on the floor, it turned out to be a drawing, clearly made with a child’s hand, of Santa Claus and his reindeer. Underneath that same hand had scrawled ‘Angel, nine years old.’

When Ted and Marcie saw it, Marcie said,“Now will you look at that.”

“My, my,” said Ted, then patted their dog on the head. “Good boy,” he said.

“Too old,” was my opinion. “Nine years old? How old is Angel now?”

“Nineteen,” said Shanille.

“We need something more recent.”

“How about this?” said Harriet, and gestured to a pink jeans jacket that definitely wasn’t Father Reilly’s.

“Oh, that’s right. Angel left that here the other day,” said Shanille, “when she came to help her mom clean the sacristy.”

And so both dogs set to sniffing that jacket intently, and finally declared that they were ready. Ready to follow the trail—wherever it might lead!

We started to walk away when suddenly we were waylaid by none other than Father Reilly himself.

“Ted? Marcie?” the priest said, his voice betraying his consternation at seeing two of his parishioners in his inner sanctum.

“We—that is they—that is…” Ted began.

“I think our dog has gotten it into his nut that he wants to find that missing girl,” Marcie took over explanatory duties from her husband.

“Angel?” The good priest glanced down at Rufus and Fifi, who looked ready for business, and must have exuded enough confidence for the priest to give them his blessing. Though of course it could also be that Shanille was there, and that she’d bunted her head against his shin. “It’s a terrible thing,” said the priest. “Marigold and I are sick with worry, I don’t mind telling you.”

“When did she disappear—and what do the police say?” asked Marcie.

“Well, that’s just it. Marigold refuses to involve them. She and Alec Lip don’t exactly see eye to eye, and she wants to find Angel herself, without Alec’s assistance.” He shrugged. “I keep telling her they should put aside their differences, but she’s stubborn.”

“Has she tried that ‘Find my phone’ app?” asked Ted.

“Oh, absolutely. But it looks as if Angel switched off her phone.”

“Could it be that she ran off with some boy?” Marcie asked.

“I don’t think so, Marcie. Angel is a very serious-minded young woman. She’d never take off like that. No, something is wrong, and frankly I’ve been thinking of asking Alec to get involved—but if I go behind Marigold’s back she will be furious, so I’ve held off on that option for now.But if Angel isn’t back this time tomorrow, I am going to call the police.”