Purrfect Swing. Purrfect Cruise. Purrfect Harmony

34. PURRFECT SWING

1

There was a commotion that seemed to center on the bathroom. Now don’t get me wrong: I understand perfectly well the important role a bathroom plays in the lives of humans. They use it for all kinds of things, many of them a little mysterious in my view, and most of them perfectly superfluous, too, but it’s clear that along with the kitchen the bathroom is at the heart of their existence.

And so it was with a modicum of indulgence that I witnessed the events that morning: a long line had formed outside the bathroom and there was a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth going on. Odelia was there, of course, still in her pajamas, and also Chase Kingsley, Odelia’s husband, also in his pajamas. In fact when I looked more closely I noticed that all of the humans standing in line outside the bathroom were dressed in their pajamas: apart from Odelia this small gathering consisted of Odelia’s dad Tex Poole, and also her mom Marge.

Tex was pounding on the door of the bathroom with his fist and saying things like‘Hurry up!’ and ‘How much longer is this going to take?’ and ‘It’s been over an hour!’

“What’s going on?” asked Dooley as he came tripping up. He’d enjoyed a leisurely time at the foot of Odelia’s bed, as I had, and was wondering what all the fuss was about.

“Gran is in there and she’s taking too much time,” I explained. “Or at least the others all seem to think she’s taking too much time.” Personally I’m not sure how much time a human needs to get ready in the morning. I’m not a human, you see. I’m a cat, and cats don’t use bathrooms to get ready. In fact you might even say that cats were born ready: we don’t need showers, or to wash our hair or even use a blow-dryer to dry that same hair—silly things, by the way, blow-dryers: first you make your hair wet and then you make it dry again. In other words an exercise in futility as far as I can tell. But what do I know?

“What is Gran doing?” asked Dooley.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But whatever she’s doing, they all agree it’s taking too long.”

“How much time does a human need to get ready in the morning, Max?” my friend asked, posing the question that had been on my mind ever since this story had begun. You see, Marge and Tex and Gran used to live in their own house, and their bathroom issues weren’t my issues, as I live with Odelia and Chase, next door from Odelia’s parents. Only Gran had hired a contractor who promised to build her a new kitchen, but instead of building a kitchen this contractor had managed to tear down the whole house, and as a consequence a new house had to be built, and in the meantime the Pooles had moved in with their daughter and their daughter’s new husband Chase.

“I think it all depends,” I said. “Chase usually takes about ten minutes. Odelia needs at least half an hour, but Gran has been in there an hour… and counting.”

“So…” Dooley made a few quick calculations in his mind, “before all of our humans are ready in the morning, it’s going to take… at least half a day?”

“Not half a day,” I said with a laugh. “That would be ridiculous.”

“No, but there are now five adult humans living in this house, and there’s only one bathroom, so if my calculations are correct it’s going to take them an hour and a half to get ready. So if they want to be at work on time, they’ll have to get up at…” More mental acrobatic feats were involved here, and plenty of frowning, but finally the answer rolled from my friend’s lips: “Six!”

“Earlier,” I said. “They also need to have breakfast, and you need to take into account travel time and time to get dressed. So better make that five.”

“They’ll never make it in time,” he said with a look at the queue.

Also, Tex was now dancing on one leg, obviously in urgent need of the bathroom for other purposes than simply making sure that his corpus was cleansed of whatever dirt that had accrued there during the night—which is another mystery I won’t touch upon here for lack of space: how do humans get dirty simply by spending time sleeping?

“We need a second bathroom,” now Marge announced. “This can’t go on like this.”

“We could always use the porta-potty the workers next door use,” Odelia suggested.

“I don’t think it’s fair to use their porta-potty,” said Odelia’s mother.

“We don’t need to use any porta-potty,” said Tex, his face having turned a vivid scarlet at this point. “All we need is for ONE person in this household to be LESS SELFISH!”

As he said this—or shouted, to be exact—he gave the bathroom door another healthy pounding with his fist.

“Hold your horses,” said Gran, suddenly opening the door and appearing onto the scene. Her white hair was in curlers, and her cheeks glowing a healthy pink. “Can’t a lady have a moment of privacy around here?” she grumbled as she trounced past the line of wannabe bathroom-goers.

“A moment!” Tex cried. “You were in there at least one hour!”

“Has it been that long?” said Gran airily. “How quickly time passes when you’re having fun.”

“What were you doing in there?” asked Marge suspiciously.

“Look, I perfectly understand that you young people get ready lickety-split, but us older folks need a little more time to give mother nature some assistance. We can’t all roll out of bed in the morning looking fresh as a daisy. For some of us it takes work.” She then cast a doubtful eye at Tex. “Though you better take your time, Tex. One hour isn’t going to cut it.”

And having delivered this barb, she was off in the direction of the guest bedroom that was her momentary home. A home she now shared with Marge and Tex.

Not an ideal situation, I think you’ll agree.

Tex was rolling his eyes.“And here I thought things couldn’t get any worse,” he said. “As if living under the same roof with that woman wasn’t enough, now I have to live under the same roof with her in the same room!”

“It’s just for a couple of weeks, honey,” said his wife of twenty-five years. “Soon the new house will be ready and we’ll have all the space we need.”

“Let’s hope so,” Tex grumbled, and since the others were so courteous to let him go in first, he made haste to close the door behind him and moments later the line had been reduced from four to three waiting adults.

“If it’s really urgent you can use my litter box,” Dooley said helpfully to Marge, who, like her husband before her, was now dancing on one leg.

“Thanks, Dooley,” said Marge with a tight smile. “That’s very kind of you. But if it’s all the same to you I prefer to do my business on a regular toilet.”

We followed Gran into her room, and saw that she’d gotten dressed in her usual tracksuit, this one a purple specimen with red stripe. “Where are you going, Gran?” asked Dooley curiously.

Humans are such a strange species, they never fail to amuse and entertain. And it is always with great interest that we watch their daily shenanigans.

“Today I’m going golfing,” said Gran proudly.

“What’s golfing?” asked Dooley.

“Golfing is where you hit a little white ball with a stick and try to make it land in a hole,” I explained.

He stared at me.“And what’s the point?”

“That, I do not know,” I had to admit.

“It’s a sport,” said Gran, who apparently had read up on this strange pastime. “In fact it’s the perfect sport: you don’t overexert yourself, as in some of these weird and exotic sports like jogging, and your eye-hand coordination gets a real kick out of it, which is never a bad thing, especially when you’re my age and things start to go a little haywire.”

“Can we come?” asked Dooley, whose interest had been piqued by this enthusiastic endorsement.

“I don’t think so, Dooley,” said Gran. “No cats allowed on the golf course, I’m afraid.”

“But why?”

“They don’t need us there,” I said. “They prefer to dig their own holes.”

“That’s right,” said Gran. “Besides, a golf course can be a dangerous place for cats. Those balls fly around at dizzying speeds, and if one should hit you in the face, it’s bye-bye, birdie.”

I shivered. The prospect of getting hit in the face by a ball didn’t exactly hold a lot of appeal to me, and I was glad Gran was so considerate. “Have a good time,” I said therefore.

“Break a leg,” said Dooley.

“I hope not,” said Gran. “But first things first. Let’s have breakfast.”

I gave her two thumbs up. Or at least I would have, if I’d had thumbs.

2

Things were a little hectic in the kitchen. In a corner of the room the television was blaring away, a newscaster announcing the happy return of one of Hampton Cove’s favorite sons: the world-famous golf pro Carl Strauss, who was playing a tournament in town a week or so from now, and was staying at his beachside mansion, one of the many homes the successful sports star owned. Unfortunately for Mr. Strauss the reporter seemed more interested in the golfer’s private life than in his sporting achievements, as rumor had it that he was on the verge of yet another divorce, already his fourth.

“I had a great idea,” Gran suddenly announced as she nibbled from a piece of buttered toast.

“God help us,” Dad muttered, taking a sip from his cup of piping hot black coffee. The entire family was seated at the kitchen counter, and frankly Odelia was happy to have her parents and her grandmother staying with them, even though it wasn’t exactly the most practical solution. Still, it reminded her of the time when she was still living at home, only this time her parents had moved in with her and not the other way round.

“Wait till you hear my idea before you start with the comments,” Gran snapped.

“And what is this brilliant idea of yours, pray tell?” asked Dad.

“Well, we’re building a new house, right?”

“No thanks to you,” Dad couldn’t help but add.

“Let’s not go there again, Tex,” said Mom, always the peacekeeper in the family.

“So I was thinking, if we’re building a new house anyway, why not make a few modifications?”

“What modifications,” asked Dad suspiciously.

“Why don’t we build an extra floor? Or maybe a couple extra floors? After all, once you’ve got your contractor nailed down, and your architect, it’s not going to cost you a lot more money to add a few more walls and windows.”

“What did you have in mind?” asked Mom, as she took a tentative spoonful of oatmeal pudding and nodded appreciatively, giving her daughter a nod of approval.

“Well, if we build another three or four extra floors, we can rent them out and make some extra money is what I was thinking.” When Dad started protesting, she held up her hand and yelled over him, “It’s sound business sense, Tex!”

“It’s impossible,” said Chase, shaking his head.

“Another naysayer,” said Gran acidly. “See what I gotta deal with?” she asked her granddaughter. “One person in this family who’s got all the brilliant ideas, and a bunch of negative nellies who can’t wait to tear ‘em down. So please tell me why it’s impossible?”

“Because local zoning ordinances won’t allow you to build those extra stories.”

“And why is that?”

“Because. You can’t build an apartment block in this neighborhood—you just can’t.”

“Says who?”

“Says the zoning laws!”

“I’m afraid Chase is right, Ma,” said Mom. “You can’t build apartments here. It’s not allowed.”

“I don’t get it. It’s our land. Why can’t we build whatever we want to build on it?”

“Because you just can’t, all right!” Dad exploded.

“It’s to do with urban planning,” Odelia explained for her grandmother’s sake. “If everybody just built whatever they wanted, things would quickly look a mess. This is a neighborhood of family homes, and an apartment block will stick out like a sore thumb.”

“And our neighbors would complain it blocks their view,” Mom added. “Or that the sewage system or electric grid or the water supply wasn’t built for all those extra units. And so it needs to stay the way it was originally planned by the zoning commission.”

Gran’s face had taken on a mulish look, and she said, “We’ll see about that.”

“No, we won’t,” said Dad. “I don’t want to live in an apartment. I want to live in my own house, and not have to deal with a bunch of tenants.”

“What you’re really saying is that you don’t like money, Tex,” Gran pointed out.

“I don’t want to be a landlord!”

“See? You don’t like money. But I do, and I think I can make this happen.”

Dad made a scoffing sound and returned to reading his newspaper.

“No, I think I can. It’s all about making the impossible possible, and that’s what I’m all about.” She took another bite from her toast then dropped it on her plate. “I’m going golfing, and while I’m at it I’m going to be networking the hell out of all of those movers and shakers.I’m bound to hit on someone on that zoning thing who’ll be only too happy to give me the permit I need.” She wagged her finger in her son-in-law’s face. “I’m gonna be winning friends and influencing the hell out of those people. Just you wait and see.”

The moment she was gone, the four remaining members of the Poole family all shared startled looks.

“You don’t really think she’ll do it, do you?” asked Dad.

“I’m afraid she just might,” said Mom.

“But I don’t want to own a bunch of apartments,” said Dad. “I just want to have my own home back, just the way it was before it got destroyed.”

“And you will,” said Mom. “No way is she going to get permission to build an extra couple of floors. And besides, even if she did, we’re the owners, honey. My mother can’t apply for a permit without our permission.” She cast an uncertain look at her daughter. “Can she?”

“I’m not sure,” said Odelia. “She’s not a co-owner, is she?”

“No, she’s not,” said Dad decidedly. “She may live with us, but we never signed anything over to her. We’re the owners, so she doesn’t have a say in this—none.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” said Chase, always the voice of reason in any family crisis. “First off, she’ll never get permission, not without the say-so of the owners of the house, and not without the council breaking its own zoning laws, and secondly, if by some small miracle she does manage to get a permit somehow, you’ll simply put a stop to it as soon as she does.” He shrugged. “Who’s paying the bills for this renovation? You or she?”

“Why, we are, of course,” said Dad, looking a little less glum already.

“See? Problem solved. It’s the person who controls the purse strings who decides.”

“Though it would be nice to make some extra money,” said Mom suddenly, causing her husband to give her a startled look.

“Not you too!” he cried.

Mom smiled and patted her husband on the arm.“Don’t worry, honey. I’m kidding!”

Dad put his hand to his heart and said,“I think I just had a heart palpitation.”

“Do you want me to get you a doctor, Dad?” Chase quipped.

But Dad wasn’t smiling. In fact he looked like he always did when Gran came up with another one of her cockamamie ideas. And somehow Odelia had a feeling the fever hadn’t yet passed. And it wouldn’t pass until the house that Mom and Dad were building had actually been built—which hopefully would be very soon!

3

We were in Odelia’s office, far removed from the hubbub that tends to engulf the Poole family. Usually Harriet and Brutus were also in there with us, but unfortunately the white Persian and her black mate had left us for calmer climes in the form of the home of Marge and Tex’s next-door neighbors the Trappers, and now resided with them—or at least I think they did, as I hadn’t seen much of our two friends since they’d moved on.

Odelia was slaving away at her computer as usual, working on some article for the Hampton Cove Gazette, and Dooley and I were resting peacefully in a corner of the office, where Odelia had organized a fun cozy little nook for us to do what we do best: nap!

Suddenly the door to the office opened and a woman entered whom I’d never seen before. She was stylishly dressed, stylishly coiffed, and was also very tall, with long legs clad in nylon stockings under a short black skirt. All in all she reminded me of a model.

Odelia looked up from her computer and gave her new visitor a smile.“Hi, there. What can I do for you?”

“I’m not sure,” said the woman, and laughed an uncertain laugh, then took a seat at the desk. “A friend of mine says you’re the person to see when you find yourself in some kind of big trouble—and I’m definitely in big trouble.”

“What trouble would that be, Mrs…”

“Barn. Erica Barn, though for the last three years I’ve gone through life as Erica Strauss.”

Odelia blinked.“Strauss as in…”

The woman nodded.“I’m Carl Strauss’s wife.”

“He’s a golfer,” I whispered for Dooley’s sake.

“A golfer? You mean like Gran?”

“Exactly like Gran. Though I don’t think Gran is in Carl Strauss’s league. Mr. Strauss is a professional golfer, which means he plays golf for a living.”

“Is he any good?”

“He’s the best. At least when he’s not running around cheating on the woman he happens to be married to at the moment.”

We both turned to Mrs. Erica Barn, who appeared to be the latest Mrs. Strauss—or rather the soon-to-be ex-Mrs. Strauss if I interpreted her words correctly.

“I want to divorce Carl,” said Erica Barn, “only he doesn’t want to.”

“Your husband doesn’t want a divorce?” asked Odelia, obviously surprised.

“He says he still loves me and wants to give our marriage another chance. Only I don’t want to give it another chance. As far as I’m concerned I’ve given it too many chances already, and every time Carl has let me down. So I’ve decided that enough is enough.”

“I think if you really want to divorce Carl there’s nothing he can do to stop you.”

“He can make it very difficult for me,” said Erica, “and that’s exactly what he’s doing. He told me he’ll fight me every inch of the way.”

“Look, if you want out, you get out. It’s that simple. Nobody can force you to stay married against your will.”

“I know, but at what cost? He’ll try and drag my name through the mud. He’s going to destroy my career if I let him. And then he’ll take me to the cleaners and make sure I’m left with absolutely nothing. I’ll leave the marriage with only the clothes on my back.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a model,” said Mrs. Barn. “Only I haven’t modeled since I married Carl, and I’m not getting any younger, so if I want back in, it’s going to be tough going. And with Carl talking every modeling agency into blackballing me, it’s going to be even harder.”

“I see,” said Odelia. “I’m very sorry about that, Mrs. Barn.”

“Erica, please.”

“But I don’t see what you want me to do. I’m a reporter, not a lawyer, so…”

“I know, but I was thinking that maybe you could go and have a word with Carl? Someone needs to get it through that thick skull of his that this marriage is over, and that I’ll never go back.”

“You want me to talk to Carl.”

“Carl is not an unreasonable man. He’s simply surrounded by a lot of unreasonable people. Someone needs to get through to him. Someone who’s on my side.”

“And you want me to be that person for you.” Odelia looked understandably skeptical.

Erica nodded.“Look, I understand that this is a very unusual request, Miss Poole.”

“Just call me Odelia.”

“But frankly I’m desperate. Carl has canceled all my credit cards, he’s cut me off from my own bank account—I’m currently staying at an Airbnb in town, paying with what little cash I have left, but if I don’t go back to work soon I’ll be broke. Only I’m in some kind of limbo right now. The agency that used to employ me also works for Carl—for his line of clothes and his line of footwear. So they don’t want to hire me as long as this divorce thing isn’t settled. You see what kind of predicament I’m in right now? Carl is a very influential person, even in my industry. He’s worked as a celebrity model, and knows all the key people. So I’m persona non grata as long as Carl doesn’t let me go.”

Odelia clearly took pity on the woman, for she nodded.“Where is Carl staying?”

“He has a house near the beach,” said Erica, looking extremely relieved. “Oh, Odelia, you don’t know what this means to me.”

“I can’t promise you I’ll succeed. But I’ll have a word with your husband, and I’ll do my best to convey the message that he needs to accept that the marriage is over.”

“He cheated on me, you know. That’s why I left him. And it wasn’t the first time either. He keeps hooking up with all these different women. I know he thinks I don’t know. That he can do this behind my back. But I know. Of course I know. I mean—everybody knows.”

“He’s not very faithful, is he?”

“No, he’s not. Carl has issues, that’s obvious. It’s like an addiction. He just can’t stop. I confronted him about it, of course. And he promised he’d get help. But he’s made those promises before, and each time he breaks them. And so I think for my own sanity I need to put this behind me, and create as much distance between myself and Carl as possible.” She opened her purse and scribbled something on a piece of paper. “This is Carl’s number, and this is his address. Just tell him I sent you. I’m sure he’ll take your call.”

4

Odelia decided to pop into her boss’s office to have a chat about this interesting new story that had just been thrown into her lap. She gave the door to his office a quick knock and ducked her head in. “You’ll never guess who just came to see me,” she said.

Her aged boss looked up from his computer, his white beard waggling bemusedly.“Erica Barn, also known as Erica Strauss.”

She blinked at the man.“Are you psychic?”

Dan laughed.“Of course I am. Didn’t you know? No, she came in here before I showed her your office. She was looking for the famous Odelia Poole.” He leaned back with a grin on his face. “You’re becoming famous, honey. Which is a good thing as far as I’m concerned.”

“I’m hardly famous, Dan.”

“Tell that to Mrs. Strauss.”

“Who doesn’t want to be Mrs. Strauss anymore,” said Odelia, taking a seat at her editor’s desk. “She’s decided she wants a divorce, and she wants me to help her get it.”

“So now you’re a divorce lawyer, are you?”

“Carl is refusing to grant her the divorce, and Erica hopes I can convince him.”

Dan turned serious.“It’s a fascinating story, but watch your step, my pet.”

“Why? You don’t think Carl is liable to get physical with me, is he?”

“No, but he might sic his horde of lawyers on you. The man is extremely litigious, which is probably why we haven’t seen a lot of stories about his rumored infidelities in our local papers. At least not in this paper, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“You don’t want me to write about the man’s upcoming divorce?”

“Once it’s in its final stages, by all means, but I don’t want to risk the man’s ire by writing a lot of unsubstantiated rumor and innuendo.”

“I’ll make sure to keep it clean,” she promised with a grin.

“We are a family paper, Odelia,” Dan reminded her. “And also, unfortunately we don’t have the money to defend ourselves if Carl Strauss’s expensive lawyers descend on us.”

She was a little surprised by the line Dan was taking.“So what are you saying? I should handle this as a personal matter in my own time, not as a representative for the paper?”

“No, you can represent the Gazette all you want, but try not to upset the man too much, will you?”

“I’ll give him the gloved approach,” she promised.

“By the way, how is your article on the Hampton Heisters coming?”

“I’m getting there. In fact I was putting the final touches to the article when Erica walked in just now.”

“Anything new on this infamous crew of thieves?”

“Nothing,” she said. “The police have nothing, and neither do I.”

Dan sat back and rubbed his beard thoughtfully.“A gang of thieves targeting the rich and famous. You would think the Hamptons would have faced such a threat before, but as far as I can tell this is the first time.”

“How many victims now?”

“Five so far, and all of them as high-profile as they come. Jewels stolen, and cash, of course, but also personal mementos that seem to indicate that these thieves are trying to cash in on the fame of these people.”

“Selling the stuff on eBay?”

“Well, that’s the strange thing. Nothing has shown up on any of the auction sites.”

“Maybe they have some fence who’s selling this stuff on the black market?”

“Could be, but your husband would have heard about it if they did.” He shook his head. “No, I have a feeling we’re dealing with something completely different here. Thieves… but also… fans?”

“You think they’re keeping these mementos for themselves?”

“It’s a possibility we have to consider. Which means that we might be dealing with some kind of extreme fandom here.”

5

Even though cats are not allowed on the links, Odelia had still managed to smuggle Dooley and me in. She wanted us there when she conducted her interview with Carl Strauss, though she had asked us to stay hidden, and make sure we weren’t spotted.

Lucky for us—and for her—a golf course consists of a lot of shrubberies and greenery, and so we had no difficulty staying hidden while she talked to the famous pro golfer. We were at Hampton Cove’s pride and joy: the Riviera Country Club, where men went golfing, and women came to enjoy a leisurely time spent with the local tennis pros.

Carl Strauss was not a tall man, but he was still quite impressive with his slim build and the suavity of his manner. I could see how a lot of women would fall for his magnetism and the debonair way in which he held himself. The man simply oozed charm, and his smile was so seductive even I felt drawn to the guy—and I’m a cat!

“Look, I don’t know what Erica told you, Miss Poole,” said Carl as he gently teased a golf ball into a hole a few inches further. “But we’re still very much together and as far as I’m concerned that’s exactly the way it’s going to stay for the foreseeable future. We love each other,you see, and there’s nothing you or anybody else can do about that.”

“She told me she wants to divorce,” said Odelia. “And she also told me she told you she wants to divorce, but that you’re refusing to grant her one.”

“This is all very silly,” said Carl, that smile still firmly in place as he picked the little white ball from the hole and pocketed it. “I made a mistake, and I admit it. But I promised Erica that this would be the last time I made such a terrible error of judgment.”

“She says she caught you cheating on her several times, Mr. Strauss.”

“Oh, I think we both know that she’s exaggerating. Several times? Okay, so I have made the odd slip. See, Miss Poole, the problem is that I’m too kindhearted. Other people of my stature keep a solid distance between themselves and the outside world—fans and such. They build a wall around themselves and don’t allow anybody in. I’m not like that. I’m from a modest background myself, and I find it very hard to draw a line when I meet one of my many, many fans. Especially when they show me with their words or actions that they enjoy my company. If I have one weakness it is that I simply love to be loved—I’m a people’s friend. And that’s been the main problem all along. Erica expects me to pay attention only to her. Whereas I like to be everybody’s friend, see?”

“Your friends all seem to be attractive young women.”

“Oh, I have many male friends, too, Miss Poole. In fact you’d be surprised to know—”

“Look, all I know is that Erica wants a divorce, and so—”

“She doesn’t want a divorce,” Carl assured her. “She just thinks she wants a divorce.”

They’d moved on to the next hole, as I think the vernacular goes, and Carl was now waggling his golf club, poised to hit the ball in the direction of yet another target. Frankly, I didn’t see the point of the whole endeavor: why hit a ball with a stick, only to hit it again later? It all seems pointless. Then again, I’m just a cat, of course. Cats don’t play with balls. That’s dogs. And humans. A predilection both species have in common.

“What’s a sax maniac, Max?” suddenly Dooley asked.

“Um…”

“Only I heard it on the news this morning. In the kitchen? They were talking about Carl Strauss. One of the reporters said he’s a sax maniac. Addicted to sax, they said. Did they mean he’s addicted to sax music?”

“Not sax—sex with an e,” I said before I realized my mistake. Oops.

“Oh.” He thought about this for a moment. “So what does that mean, exactly?”

“Well, I guess it means that Carl likes sex very much,” I said, treading carefully.

“But why, Max? Why does he like sex so much?”

“I guess he must find it… pleasant?” I suggested.

“But they said he’s addicted to it, and in the office this morning Erica said the same thing. She said that her husband is addicted. Like an alcoholic, but not to alcohol but sex.”

“I guess people can be addicted to different things,” I said. “Some people are addicted to alcohol, or cigarettes, or drugs, and others, like Carl Strauss, are addicted to sex.”

“Do you think he’s dangerous?” Dooley asked now as he gave Carl a look of suspicion.

“Dangerous? What do you mean?”

“Well, if he’s addicted to sex, don’t you think he wants to have, like, sex all the time?”

“Um…”

“I think we should warn Odelia. Just in case he attacks her. On the television this morning they said that no woman is safe when Carl Strauss is around. That he will hit on them.” His eyes went wide. “He might use those sticks, Max—to hit Odelia!”

“They’re called clubs, Dooley. Golf clubs. And they’re used to hit that little white ball across the fairway in the direction of that hole over there—not to hit women.”

Dooley thought about this for a moment.“I still think we should warn Odelia. I think she’s in danger and she doesn’t know it.”

“And I think Odelia can take care of herself,” I countered. “But just in case he does try any funny business, we’re right here, Dooley, and we’re not letting her out of our sight.”

“Oh, you bet we’re not,” he said.

And so he kept on watching Carl like a hawk—or an extremely vigilant cat—ready to pounce on the man as soon as he made a move to pounce on our human.

“So you’re not going to grant her the divorce?” asked Odelia. Carl had just managed to hit the ball into the rough, and was rooting around where it had fallen.

“Just give Erica a little time, Miss Poole. She’ll come to see that she doesn’t really want a divorce. That in fact she’s never been happier.”

“She doesn’t look happy to me, Mr. Strauss.”

Carl smiled his charming smile.“That’s because you don’t know her. If you knew her as well as I do—she is, after all, my wife—you’d know that before she met me she was living a shallow life—the life of a person focused on outer appearances. Since we met she’s discovered there’s a deeper layer to our existence as human beings.”

“And what is that?”

“Love, Miss Poole! And with me, she found this deeper layer. And rest assured, she doesn’t want to go without this precious love that we share. This wedded bliss. Okay, so from time to time I’ve strayed. I’ve made myself too available to members of the opposite sex. But that’s just a physical thing. Me being a warm and tactile person. But the love that Erica and I share? Nothing can ever come close to that. I know it, and she knows it.”

“Look, you can talk all you want, Mr. Strauss,” said Odelia, “but the fact of the matter is that your wife is very upset with you right now, and that she doesn’t want anything to do with you. And the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can both move on.”

“But I don’t want to move on!” suddenly Carl burst out. It was the first time he’d allowed an outburst like that, and for a moment the mask slipped and the angry and frustrated individual underneath showed. But then he quickly composed himself again. He ducked down behind a bush and picked up his ball. “Well, there you are, you little devil,” he said, and briskly walked back to the green, where he proceeded to place the ball down, give it a good whack with his club, and watch it plunge into the lake. He heaved a deep sigh, then said, “Looks like this isn’t my day.”

“So are you going to grant your wife her divorce?” asked Odelia.

Carl turned to her, an enigmatic smile on his face.“Erica and I are meant to be together, Miss Poole. And a love like that? That once-in-a-lifetime bond? You don’t break that up. So no, I’ll never divorce Erica, and if she tries to divorce me, I’ll fight her with everything I’ve got. In fact I’ll fight her till my dying breath. Is that clear enough for you?”

“Crystal,” said Odelia.

Just then, I suddenly had the feeling we were being watched. My skin crawled, and a shiver ran down my spine. But as I looked around, I couldn’t see anyone. There was just me and Dooley, Carl and Odelia, and his caddy, a young man who hadn’t spoken a word, and whose sole purpose seemed to be to carry Carl’s bag of clubs around all day. A sad life, I would have thought, and not unlike the life of a vassal carrying his lord’s sword, back in the day when knights were the cat’s meow and swords were the cat’s whiskers.

“He’s going to attack!” suddenly Dooley cried, and before I could stop him, he shot forward and launched himself in the direction of the famous golf pro. Lucky for him, just in that moment Carl bent down to tie a shoelace, and Dooley flew right over his head, then landed a few feet beyond hisintended target.

“Dooley!” Odelia snapped. “What did I tell you?”

When Carl looked up, and saw the small gray ragamuffin, he frowned.“Cats,” he growled, his charming demeanor suddenly history. “I hate cats. They destroy the green.”

“Dooley, get back here!” I hissed as Carl took a firmer grip on his golf club, and seemed ready to take a good whack at my friend.

“Stay back, Miss Poole,” the golf pro said. “I’ll deal with this vile pest!”

“No!” said Odelia.

“Don’t be afraid,” Carl assured her. “I’ve dealt with the terrible beasts before. I never miss!” And to show her he meant what he said, he took a swing at a cowering Dooley!

“Stop it!” Odelia cried. “That’s my cat!”

Dooley, of course, wasn’t taking this kind of treatment lying down. When that club started to shift in his direction with deadly force, he scooted for cover, and quickly disappeared into the undergrowth.

“Your cat? But cats aren’t allowed on the links,” Carl pointed out, looking around for Dooley but failing to find him. And then of course he spotted me! “There’s another one!” he bellowed. “Stay back, Miss Poole! I’ll fix him for you! Stay still, you horrible beast!”

“No! He’s also mine!”

Carl stared at our human.“You brought two cats onto the links?”

Odelia shrugged, looking a little shamefaced now.“They like to follow me around.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Carl, looking annoyed. He frowned at me. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of this fat orange one for you? He looks nasty.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Hey, buddy,” I said, taking a step forward. “First of all, I’m blorange, not orange. And secondly, I’m not fat, I’m big-boned.”

“And at least Max is not a sex maniac like you!” Dooley piped up from his hiding place in the brush, then quickly ducked his head down again.

“They seem to be very feisty animals,” said Carl, still holding onto his club, and clearly not having made up his mind whether to hit us and bury us right there or to leave us be. “Look, just tell my wife that next time she sends an emissary to argue for a divorce, she better send me someone who doesn’t think it’s a good idea to bring two cats onto the green,” said Carl, his charming demeanor a thing of the past. “I stand by my decision not to grant Erica her stupid divorce, and also, I don’t think you’re welcome here anymore, Miss Odelia Poole. And I’ll convey that thought to the club’s management.” He shook his head. “Bringing cats in here. Of all the crazy stunts…” And then he walked away.

And as we watched him stalk off, followed at a little distance by his profusely sweating caddy, carrying that bulky bag of clubs, it was obvious that Odelia’s mission was a bust. But it could have been a lot worse: it could have been fatal for Dooley and me!

6

“Look, It’s Odelia,” said Scarlett. She thought she’d noticed her friend’s granddaughter before, but hadn’t been sure it was her. Now, though, there was no question: Odelia was one or two holes ahead of them.

“She’s talking to that horrible Carl Strauss,” Vesta grumbled. “We should warn her about that guy. He’s got a reputation for being handsy.”

“I think Carl’s reputation precedes him,” said Scarlett. “Besides, there’s no way Odelia would ever get involved with a guy like that.”

“She better not. If she does, she’s a fool.”

Odelia and Chase had recently tied the knot, and never a more happy couple had presented itself to Scarlett. She’d never been married herself, of course, not being out of her mind, but Vesta had, and obviously it hadn’t become her. Marriage was clearly a good idea for Odelia, but it wasn’t for everyone.

“If he lays so much as a finger on her,” said Vesta, “I’ll…”

“You’ll do what? Odelia is old enough to take care of herself. Besides, she has Max and Dooley with her. And I’m pretty sure that if Carl tries any of his funny business, they’ll scratch that man up so bad he won’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore.”

“Yeah, that’s one thing people underestimate about cats: they think they are these cute and cuddly creatures, but they can turn vicious if you rub them the wrong way.”

“So what were you telling me?” asked Scarlett as she nudged the ball gently in the direction of the hole which was located somewhere beyond the horizon. At this rate it would probably take her another twenty strokes to arrive where she was supposed to.

“Well, I got this great idea for the house but of course my family want none of it as usual.”

“What great idea?” asked Scarlett, tongue between her teeth as she tried to measure the distance she still had to go. She was dressed the way she thought a true golfer should be dressed: white short skirt, white crop top and white sneakers. Vesta had already told her she’d dressed for tennis,not golf, but she knew never to take advice from her friend when it came to what clothes to wear.

“I want to build an extra couple of floors on top of the house, figuring it won’t cost us a lot extra, and we can rent them out as apartments or studios and make an extra buck.”

“Pretty sure you need a permit for that.”

“Not you, too!”

“It’s a fact, Vesta. Wanna build? Gotta get a permit.”

“Okay, so what if I get a permit. Then can I have my extra floors?”

“Do you have permission from the owners—Marge and Tex?”

“I’m an owner.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’ve lived there long enough. Pretty sure that after a while you automatically become an owner. It’s the law.”

“If that’s the law this is the first time I’ve heard of it.”

“If it isn’t, it should be. I have rights, too, you know.”

“You have rights if you buy a piece of the property. How much have you invested?”

“A lot! I’ve invested a lot of my time in that house.”

“You mean you’ve put in a lot of work?”

“You damn right I’ve put in a lot of work. I garden. I vacuum my room once a week, and I load the dishwasher. I even cook from time to time. What more do you want?”

“Look, Marge and Tex have been kind enough to take you in,” said Scarlett. “Most people would put their mom in a nursing home, so you should count yourself lucky you get to live with your family. So don’t you go and make life difficult for them, you hear?”

“I’m not old enough to live in a nursing home,” Vesta pointed out.

“You’re seventy-five!”

“Seventy-five is the new twenty-five. Now will you shut up for one second while I take this next shot. I can’t focus on my game with all your yapping.”

Vesta took the shot and… landed the ball in a sand bunker.

“Look, all I want is to make my daughter and her husband an extra buck,” she said. “Is that so bad?”

“It’s bad if you do it without asking them first. And also, after you destroyed their house I don’t think you’ve got many strikes left, Vesta, to be honest. The next one just might land your ass in that nursing home after all.”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t tempt them, okay?”

“Oh, tush. You’re just jealous cause I’m going to have a new kitchen soon and you don’t.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes.“Sometimes I wonder why I ever thought being your friend would be easier than being your enemy.”

“Cause you love me!”

“I do, but don’t ask me why.”

“Come on. Let’s go and dig my ball out of that there sand.”

“You can’t dig out your ball. You need to hit it back onto the fairway with your club.”

“Says who?”

“Says the rules!”

“Rules are there to be broken, Scarlett, didn’t anyone ever tell you that?”

“Oh, dear God,” said Scarlett, shaking her head. But she followed her friend as they trudged up a steep incline, then walked into the sand bunker to look for Vesta’s ball.

“Isn’t this fun?” asked Vesta as she picked up her ball and threw it back onto the fairway.

“If I’m absolutely honest I like my idea of going to the spa a lot more.”

“The spa! What’s fun about that! At least here you can meet the movers and the shakers of the world. Golfing is what it’s all about.” And with this, she crawled out of the bunker again, and gave her ball a good whack—this time in the right direction. Or at least it would have been the right direction if only a woman hadn’t been standing in the ball’s trajectory. It hit her in the side of the head with a dull thwack and she went down.

“You’ve definitely shaken that woman,” Scarlett said. “And moved her, too.”

7

“This isn’t right, Brutus,” said Harriet. “And you know it isn’t right.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Brutus. “We’re just going for a walk, that’s all.”

“In a dog park!”

“So? It’s just a park.”

“For dogs!”

Ever since they’d decided to leave the warm embrace of the Poole family, Harriet had had a tough time of it. Brutus’s big idea had been to leave the Pooles and join the Trappers instead, figuring that the Poole family was a guarantee for trouble and mayhem and the Trappers were exactly that kind of middle class family that they needed: quiet, peaceful, respectable, and guaranteed to offer them a warm and loving home. The kind of home they needed. Harriet hadn’t agreed, but she hadn’t wanted to see her one true love leave the nest either, and so she’d found herself joining him in staging an escape.

The Trappers at first had thought it a little strange that their small menagerie of one dog had been augmented with the arrival of two cats, but soon had seen the benefits: Brutus and Harriet were, after all, house-trained, and as everybody knows cats are the best mousers in the world, and since they’d recently suffered from a mouse infestation, they just figured that maybe this was the best thing that could have happened to them.

They’d talked things through with Marge and Tex, rightful owners of these two cats, and it had been decided that Ted and Marcie would take the two cats in on trial. If things ran smoothly, they got to keep them, and if not, they could always give them back.

The only problem was that Ted and Marcie weren’t used to having cats, and labored under the misapprehension that cats are exactly like dogs and should be treated as such.

Hence the twice-daily walks along the neighborhood to do their business.

And now the dog park.

“I just hope for your sake that there are no other cats around,” said Harriet. “Cause if there are, and they see us, we’re going to be the laughingstock of this town.”

“No other cats will be there, Harriet,” Brutus assured her. “It’s a dog park, remember? Cats wouldn’t want to be seen dead in a place like that.”

“Oh, and we would?”

“That’s different. The Trappers still have to get used to having cats. They need time.”

“This morning they took us for a walk again, Brutus!”

“Well, that’s not so bad, is it? Walking is good for you. And besides, I managed to have a pee and you should have seen Ted’s face when I did. He looked so happy and proud!”

“I had a pee, too, but that doesn’t make it any less humiliating. Cats aren’t meant to do their business on the street, Brutus. And in a recent past you would have railed against exactly that kind of unhygienic practice yourself!”

“I know, I know,” said Brutus soothingly. “But let’s humor them for now, shall we? I’m sure that once they get the hang of things, they’ll stop treating us like dogs and start treating us like cats instead.”

They’d arrived at the dog park, and Rufus, the Trappers’ big sheepdog, exclaimed, “We’re here, you guys. This is when the fun begins.” He actually looked excited to be at the park, which struck Harriet as very odd indeed.

“You really like this place, don’t you?” she said.

“What’s not to like! There’s other dogs, whose butts I get to sniff, and trees, and… other dogs whose butts I get to sniff!”

“Oh, Rufus, you are a very shallow dog,” said Harriet with a shake of the head.

But then Marcie released the big dog from his leash, and he was off like a bat out of hell, doing exactly what he’d told them he would: sniffing butts wherever he could!

“Isn’t he great?” said Marcie as she watched her dog’s progress. “Now it’s your turn, Brutus and Harriet. Go on and have some fun!”

Harriet and Brutus slunk off, and Harriet hissed,“If one dog so much as sniffs in my direction I’m scratching his eyes out, I’m warning you.”

“No dog is going to sniff at you, sweet pea,” said Brutus.

“They better not.”

“Look, it’s a process. And the sooner we get through it the sooner we come out the other side.”

They took up position next to a patch of fenced-in sand, and settled in for the duration.

“I miss my humans,” said Harriet after a pause.

“You have new humans, snuggle pooh.”

“Yeah, but I miss my old ones. I liked the Pooles a lot better than the Trappers.”

“It’s not as if they’re miles away. You can go and visit the Pooles any time you want.”

“I know, but it’s not the same and you know it.”

Brutus was silent for a moment, then said,“We just have to get through this difficult part. Soon we’ll get used to having new humans and we’ll be so much happier.”

“I miss Max and Dooley, too.”

“How can you miss them? You see them all the time!”

“I know, but we used to hang out together, now we’re like casual acquaintances.”

“We have Rufus now.”

They eyed the big dog who was gamboling around like a puppy, sniffing butts to his heart’s content, and Harriet sighed. “It’s not exactly the same, though, is it?”

Brutus gave her a gentle nudge.“Just hang in there. You’ll like it, you’ll see.”

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

“Because we’re tired of all the excitement,” said Brutus. “The murder and the mayhem the Pooles are always getting involved with. At least now we have a peaceful life. Nothing but peace and quiet.”

Just then, a smallish dog with a squashed-up face came tripping up, and before Brutus could stop it, it had taken a good sniff at his butt.

“Hey!” Harriet cried. “No sniffing my boyfriend’s butt, all right!”

“Hold your horses, sister,” said the doggie indignantly. “This is the dog park. Nothing is off-limits here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t they tell you? Dog park is where dogs go native.”

“Native?”

“Back to nature, baby! Now let me get a good whiff of your perky little—okay, I guess that ain’t happening,” the doggie added when Harriet unsheathed a very sharp claw.

She eyed her mate narrowly.“We’re in Sodom and Gomorrah, Brutus. Sodom and Gomorrah for dogs!”

8

Since Odelia wasn’t really in the mood for golf, we returned to the golf club bar instead, where she took a table outside and ordered a coffee and started writing down bits and bobs of the chat she’d just had with Carl Strauss in the hopes of turning it into a short piece about the guy at a later date.

Dooley and I took up position underneath her chair and when a waitress provided us with a bowl of milk we were bowled over with the kindness she’d shown us, coming so shortly upon the heels of the attack on our lives by Mr. Strauss, clearly not a cat person.

“I don’t think I like Carl Strauss, Max,” said Dooley.

“No, I don’t like him very much either,” I had to admit.

“He hates cats, and he tried to kill me.”

“Yeah, not exactly the kind of behavior that makes a positive impression.”

“So he’s not only a sex maniac but also a cat killer,” Dooley concluded. “In other words, not a nice person.”

I smiled.“Dooley, you really have a way with words.”

But before we could thresh the matter out a little more, suddenly two unexpected visitors drew up chairs and joined us at the table. Reading from left to right, they were Gran and Scarlett!

“And? How did it go with the golf pro?” asked Vesta, eyeing her granddaughter closely, presumably looking for bite marks on her neck, or hickeys as I think they’re called in sex maniac jargon.

“His wife dropped by the office this morning,” Odelia explained, putting down her tools of the trade for a moment, “to ask if I could talk to her husband and make him grant her the divorce she wants.”

“Carl Strauss is getting divorced?” asked Scarlett. “Again?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t want to. He claims Erica will change her mind again and realize she still loves him. Though if you ask me the guy is delusional.”

“He tried to kill me,” said Dooley.

“Kill you!” Gran cried.

“Yeah, he thought Dooley was an intruder and tried to whack him over the head with a golf club,” Odelia confirmed.

“He called me fat and orange,” I said sadly. “Basically an orange fatty.”

“Oh, dear,” said Gran, and patted me on the head for my trouble, and picked Dooley up and placed him on her lap.

I guess she figured I was too heavy to do that. Or maybe I was just seeing things. It’s not every day that I’m called orange and fat. But Dooley did just survive an attempt on his life, which is a lot worse than being called an opprobrious name and the wrong color.

“What are they saying?” asked Scarlett, who then had the decency to pick me up and place me on her lap. So of course I rewarded her with plenty of purring!

“Carl tried to kill Dooley and called Max fat and orange,” Gran explained.

“Oh, the poor darlings!” said Scarlett, endearing herself to me even more than she already had. She plucked at my ears. “He’s a bad, bad, bad man, isn’t he, Max?”

“He sure is,” I said, a little piteously.

“At least he didn’t do them any harm,” said Odelia, “which is more than I can say about the divorce that isn’t happening.”

“Can’t Erica hire some ace lawyer? One of those people who can work miracles?”

“She can’t afford one of those miracle workers. Carl froze all of her bank accounts, canceled her credit cards and is blackballing her in the modeling world, making sure she’ll never work again as long as she doesn’t comply with his wishes.”

“I don’t get it,” said Scarlett. “What is this? The nineteenth century? You can’t hold a woman hostage like that. If she doesn’t want to stay married to the guy she should be able to get rid of him.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” said Odelia.

“Maybe you can write an article denouncing him,” Gran suggested. “Tell the world Erica’s story. Maybe then he’ll think twice about treating her like his personal property.”

“Dan asked me to play nice with the guy,” said Odelia. “I think he’s afraid that if we rock the boat we’ll lose advertisers. Or maybe he’ll come after us. Apparently Carl is a big name in town, and if we get in bad with him, it just might jeopardize the paper’s future.”

“This is just terrible,” said Scarlett. “Isn’t there anything we can do for Erica?”

Odelia shrugged.“I’m not sure. But if you have an idea, I’m all ears.”

Just then, her phone chimed and she picked it up from the table to glance at the number.“Chase,” she said, and picked up. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” She listened for a moment, and a frown soon creased her brow.

Scarlett watched the brow-creasing and sucked in her breath with a hissing sound.“Don’t do that,” she murmured. “You’ll get early-onset wrinkles if you keep doing that.”

But Odelia wasn’t listening. Instead, she said, “I’ll be there in ten.” She hung up, then announced to a captive audience, “The Hampton Heisters just broke into Katrina MacKney’s house.”

“No, they didn’t!” Gran cried, consternation making her sit upright with a jerk, causing Dooley to be relegated to the ground again.

“Who’s Katrina MacKney?” I asked.

“She’s a soap star,” Dooley explained. “One of Gran’s absolute favorites. She’s onGeneral Hospital. She plays Mrs. Emerald Brown. I think she’s the general who runs theGeneral Hospital hospital.”

“Do you guys want to come?” asked Odelia as she signaled the waitress for the check.

“Does a bear shit in the woods!” Gran cried.

“Does he?” Dooley asked, turning to me.

“I hope so,” I said. “Imagine if a bear shat on the carpet.”

So when Scarlett got up and deposited me on the ground, I heaved a sigh of disappointment. I quite enjoyed her strokes and had been purring up a storm.

But duty calls, I guess, and soon we were on our way, this time to lend aid and comfort to a soap star.

9

While in the car, we briefly touched on the topic of Harriet and Brutus suddenly having decided to up and leave our nice little home for yonder shores and adopting a dog’s life instead.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” said Odelia. “I’m sure they’ll be back in no time.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Last time I talked to Brutus he seemed to enjoy living with the Trappers.”

“How about Harriet?” asked Odelia. “What does she think?”

“Harriet is reserving her judgment. Until she’s spent some more time over there.”

“They’ll be back,” Odelia reiterated, seeming awfully sure of herself. “No cats of mine have ever left to find a better home elsewhere, and I don’t think it will happen this time.”

“Brutus doesn’t like all the fuss Gran makes,” said Dooley, who was riding in the backseat along with me. Gran and Scarlett, of course, were following behind in the little red Peugeot Gran likes to drive, though driving probably isn’t the right word for the kind of thing Gran does with a car. “And he doesn’t like all the murder business either.”

“All the murder business? As if we have to deal with murder so often.”

“Well, we have dealt with murder quite often in the recent past,” I said.

“Have we really?” said Odelia as she checked her GPS to make sure we were still going in the right direction. “I wasn’t aware that we had.”

“We’ve been involved with dozens of murders, Odelia,” I pointed out, “which is something of an oddity as there are only fifteen thousand people in Hampton Cove.”

“This place is turning into Cabot Cove,” said Dooley, nodding, and when we both gave him a curious glance, Odelia through the rearview mirror and me opting for the direct approach, he added, “Murder She Wrote? Jessica Fletcher’s hometown? There’s been so many murders over the years that Cabot Cove has turned into the murder capital of America. Though of course Cabot Cove is a fictional town and Hampton Cove is real.”

“I guess,” said Odelia doubtfully. Clearly she hadn’t thought that far. “Anyway, we’re here, you guys. Are you sure you want to come in? There’s going to be a lot of people.”

“Why wouldn’t we go in with you?” I asked.

“Well, after the traumatizing experience with Carl Strauss…”

“Oh, that,” I said, waving a dismissive paw. “I’m over that already, Odelia,” I assured her.

“Me, too!” Dooley piped up, though the thought of Carl Strauss’s golf club seemed to make my friend turn a little white around the nostrils—hard though it was to notice.

Odelia parked her car out in front of the large mansion where Katrina MacKney resides, and we all got out. Behind us, Gran had parked her car, and so we strode up to the front door, which was open, and where several police officers were milling about, proving Odelia’s point that the Hampton Cove police department was out in droves.

The Hampton Heisters were quickly turning into a real nuisance for our local law enforcement professionals, proving as elusive as the Scarlet Pimpernel, though presumably with more nefarious motives powering their burglarious efforts.

We moved inside, and quickly found our way to the library, which was the hub of activity. The famous soap opera star herself stood explaining her ordeal to anyone who would listen, which in her case were Chase, Uncle Alec, and a small contingent of the county coroner’s office, busily dusting the place for prints and generally collecting clues.

“Lady MacKney!” Gran gushed as she surged to the fore. “I’m your biggest fan!”

“And who are you?” asked the actress coldly, indicating the feeling wasn’t mutual.

“My name is Vesta Muffin, and I’m the head of the local neighborhood watch, and can I just tell you right now that the watch is doing everything in its power to catch these criminals and bring them to justice?”

“Well, you better work a little faster, Vesta Muffin, for if what Chief Lip just told me is true I’m already the sixth victim of these so-called Hampton Heisters. The sixth!”

It wasn’t immediately clear to me whether she was upset that she was only sixth on the list instead of first, or that she was simply upset to be on the list, period.

“What did they take?” asked Odelia.

“Everything! My jewels, money from the safe, all of my Daytime Emmy Awards, and plenty of memorabilia from a long and extremely successful career. Can you believe they even took several of my dresses? And my shoes! And my minks and stoles! And Coco’s collars—the diamond-studded ones, naturally. These people clearly have no shame!”

The woman was a diva, that much was obvious, and I had a feeling that this whole scene would soon make its way into a new storyline onGeneral Hospital.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Dooley gushed next to me.

“I take it you’re a fan, too?” I said.

“Oh, yes. Did you know she had a baby last month? And look how well she looks.”

“A baby? The woman is at least seventy.”

“Well, she did, and not only one but triplets. Though one was abducted by a Mexican drug cartel, and one turned out to be suffering from some terrible and very rare disease, and the third was adopted by her daughter, since she can’t have children of her own.”

“Who’s the father?” I asked, intrigued in spite of myself.

“The King of Belgium,” said Dooley promptly. “They met in the orphanage when they were children, but lost sight of each other for many years, until they were both wrongfully arrested when yachting in Saint-Tropez and met in the drunk tank.”

“As people do,” I murmured.

“And now they’re inseparable. At least until last week, when he was caught in the arms of a tennis pro. I didn’t even know the King of Belgium was into men, did you?”

“I didn’t even know Belgium had a king.” Or that a country named Belgium existed.

“So what are you going to do about this is what I want to know?” said the woman, giving Uncle Alec a jab in the chest.

“We’re going to find these people and we’re going to return the stuff they stole,” said Uncle Alec, though frankly he didn’t look all that convinced himself, to be honest.

“Do you have any idea who these people are?” the soap star demanded.

“The investigation is ongoing,” said Uncle Alec, a little lamely, I thought.

“Which means you have no idea,” she said imperiously, towering over the poor Chief.

“Well…”

The mayor of Hampton Cove, Charlene Butterwick, who’d also decided to come down to see what was going on, assured the diva that no stone would be left unturned in the pursuit of justice.

“Do you have CCTV?” asked Odelia.

“No, I don’t. I do have an alarm system, but obviously these people have a way of dealing with that, for I never got a peep from the thing—it’s an app on my phone.”

“Were you home when it happened?”

“No, thank God I wasn’t! I was having my nails done.”

Odelia turned to her husband.“Maybe that’s part of their MO. They follow their victims around, to make sure they’re not home.”

“It’s rare for burglars to break in during the daytime,” Chase explained to the stricken soap star.

“Well, they did. I arrived home to find the place turned upside down. Good thing poor Coco wasn’t home when it happened—I always take her along with me wherever I go.”

“And you don’t have any staff?” asked Gran, who’d been so star-struck she’d hardly spoken, which wasn’t her habit.

“I gave my staff the day off when I left for the salon.”

“So how did they know about that, I wonder,” said Odelia.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find out,” said the star. She turned to Mayor Butterwick. “Can you give me your solemn word that you’ll find these crooks, Madam Mayor? Cause frankly I’m losing patience, and so is the rest of the community. Six breakins!”

“We’ll catch them,” said Charlene. “I have complete confidence in our Chief of Police.”

“Well, I hope you’re right,” said the woman dubiously.

A small white Bichon Frise had come tripping up and nodded to us in greeting. I had a feeling this might be Coco.“So you were out, too?” I asked.

“Yeah, I wasn’t here when it happened,” Coco confirmed. She was a soft-spoken mutt, and appeared nervous to be in the presence of so many people, which was a little odd for the dog of a television celebrity. She gave me a pleading look. “I hope you find these people. They took my favorite collar. The diamond-studded one I got for my birthday.”

“Do you like to wear a collar?” asked Dooley interestedly.

“Oh, absolutely,” said Coco. “You don’t?”

“No, not really,” said Dooley. “We wore collars recently for some experiment Odelia was conducting and I didn’t like it. You didn’t like it either, did you, Max?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “Collars itch.”

“You have to get the ones with the velvet on the inside,” said Coco, who proved herself something of a collar aficionado. “Those are very pleasant to wear. In fact I love wearing my collars so much I feel completely naked without them, to be honest.”

“Don’t worry, Coco,” I said. “Uncle Alec is very good at what he does, and so are Chase and Odelia. They’ll catch these people, and then you’ll get your collars back.”

“Is it possible I’ve seen you onGeneral Hospital?” asked Dooley now.

“Yes, you might have,” said Coco diffidently.

“I thought I had! Gran and I are big, big fans. We watch every episode, and Mrs. Emerald Brown is our favorite character on the show.”

“She’s my favorite character, too,” said Coco, not surprisingly. “And she managed to get me included in some of the episodes. At first the screenwriter turned me into a vicious attack dog who goes nuts and attacks her human, but Katrina put her foot down and said over my dead body. And so they turned me into this really sweet and lovely dog who follows her human around everywhere she goes. I’m going to have a very important part in one of the future episodes. I actually save my human’s life, when her office is set on fire by her daughter’s mentally deranged husband who goes on a killing spree, but fortunately for her I smell the smoke and I wake her up and save her life that way.” She smiled. “That was a lot of fun to film, though I was really scared for a moment. They use actual fire, you know, though we were never in any real danger, thank God.”

“Thank God,” I echoed, wondering what life would be like for a famous dog like Coco, being on television and getting to save her human’s life. Plenty of fun, I imagined.

But just then, Uncle Alec’s phone chimed and when he picked it up and his face suddenly clouded, I knew our interview with Coco was at an end. And true enough, the moment he disconnected and said, “There’s been a fire at Franklin High School,” and both Odelia and Chase snapped to attention, I turned to Coco and said, “That’s our cue.”

Coco chuckled lightly, and said,“That’s what my director says every time I have to do a scene. ‘This is your cue, Coco. And… action!’ So funny.”

Dooley, hanging on Coco’s every word, looked a little sad to be leaving so soon.

“Would you like to have my autograph?” asked Coco.

Dooley nodded six times in quick succession, and Coco tripped off in the direction of the next room, and when she returned was carrying a piece of paper between her teeth. She then dropped it on the floor in front of us and true enough, it was a paw print.

“Oh, thank you so much!” said Dooley. “I’ll ask my human to frame it for me!”

“Well, Dooley and Max,” said Coco, already looking a lot less diffident, “I guess I’ll see you around. And if you want an invitation to visit me on set, just say the word and I’ll try to arrange it with Katrina. Maybe you can even play a small part in a future episode.”

And as we left the house, in Odelia’s wake, I’d never seen Dooley looking quite so enamored… and with a dog, to boot!

10

When Odelia arrived at the school, the fire had already been extinguished by the competent men and women of the fire department. As she rolled to a stop they were rolling up their hoses and being profusely thanked by the school principal for a job well done. Uncle Alec and Chase, driving up in their squad car, parked next to Odelia in the school parking lot and the small company headed over to talk to the principal.

“Oh, Chief Lip!” said the principal, who was a woman with a kindly demeanor. Her red hair was aflame as it caught some stray rays of sunlight, and it surprised Odelia that the fire department wasn’t aiming its hoses on her instead of the fire they’d just put out. “Odelia Poole!” said the woman when she recognized her former pupil. “Now isn’t this a nice surprise!” She cut a quick glance at Chase, then said warmly, “I never did congratulate you on your wedding, Odelia.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Doubtfire,” said Odelia, well pleased. Mrs. Doubtfire had been her English teacher back in the day she’d gone to this school herself in a not so distant past, and she had always had a great fondness for the woman. “So what happened here?”

Mrs. Doubtfire’s face clouded. “One of our more troubled girls set fire to a classroom. Luckily the janitor discovered it in time, or a lot more damage could have been done.”

“Where is the girl?” asked Uncle Alec, adopting the more formal tone of a police chief.

“In my office with her mother. And I do hope you talk her out of causing more trouble.”

“Has she done this kind of thing before?” asked Chase.

“Not set fire to the school thank God, but she did throw a water balloon at Mrs. Richards last month. The girl is a real handful and frankly I’m at my wits’ end.”

“We’ll have a chat with her,” Chase promised.

They arrived at the principal’s office, led by Odelia, and entered, finding a teenager of around seventeen or eighteen, sitting with her mother, who’d clearly been crying.

“Mrs. Pack?” asked Chase.

Mrs. Pack looked up in alarm, and when she saw the Chief, in his police uniform, and Odelia and Chase, her eyes widened.“You’re not going to arrest my daughter, are you?”

“That depends,” said the Chief curtly as he walked behind the principal’s desk and lowered his sizable bulk into Mrs. Doubtfire’s chair, which complained under the sudden onslaught. “Now tell me, young lady—why would you start a fire in a classroom?”

Ellie Pack didn’t look like your typical troubled youth, Odelia thought. In fact she looked like any girl her age: ragged jeans, designer T-shirt, Converse sneakers. Her blond curly hair was carefully swept to one side with an abundant application of hairspray, though she’d overdone it a little on the black eyeliner. She shrugged. “I just thought it was a good idea,” she said a little sullenly.

“You thought it was a good idea,” Uncle Alec echoed. “And why is that?”

The girl looked off into space and frowned.“Mrs. Doubtfire threatened to hold me back. She wants me to redo my senior year. Just because she hates me.”

“And why do you think Mrs. Doubtfire hates you?” asked Chase.

“Why don’t you ask her? I just know she does.”

“She told us that you threw a water balloon at one of your teachers?”

“That was just a joke. A girl bet I couldn’t hit Mrs. Richards from thirty feet.”

“A bet?” asked Uncle Alec. “Who did you bet with?”

The girl shrugged.“I’m not a snitch.”

“Admirable,” the Chief grumbled, “but misguided.”

“Please don’t arrest my daughter,” said Mrs. Pack. “She’s a little rambunctious from time to time, but she means well.”

“She set fire to a classroom, Mrs. Pack,” Chase pointed out. “That’s more than being a little rambunctious, wouldn’t you agree?”

“It was just a small fire,” Ellie muttered. “I had it under control. If that stupid janitor hadn’t shown up I would have put it out and nobody would have been any the wiser.”

“You didn’t want to burn down the school?” asked Odelia.

“Of course not! Why would I want to burn down the school? I was just showing off—goofing around.” She shrugged. “I guess things got out of hand.”

“Oh, Ellie,” her mother said, and broke into tears.

The girl seemed unimpressed by her mother’s tears. Instead she was looking at Odelia with interest. “You’re Odelia Poole, aren’t you? The reporter?”

“Yep, that’s me,” Odelia confirmed.

The girl smiled for the first time since they’d arrived. It was a smile that lit up her face, and suddenly made her look a lot younger—and less hostile. “I’m a big fan of yours, Miss Poole. I read all your articles, you know. I want to be a reporter like you one day.”

“If you really want to be a reporter one day,” said Uncle Alec sternly, “you probably should stop causing trouble, young lady.”

“It’s not me that’s causing all the trouble,” said Ellie, turning sullen again. “It’s the teachers. They all hate me for some reason, and so does the principal.”

Uncle Alec cleared his throat.“Now look here, Ellie. Mrs. Doubtfire told me you’ll be suspended from school for the next week while they try to decide what they’re going to do with you.” He cut a quick glance in the direction of his niece. “In the meantime we have to find a way to keep you out of trouble, don’t we? So I was thinking that maybe you would like to spend that week of suspension making yourself useful for a change?”

“I’m not going to wash your car if that’s what you’re thinking,” said Ellie defiantly.

“I was thinking more along the lines of you spending some time with my niece. Help her with her interviews, maybe work on some stories together—see what it means to be a reporter.”

Ellie’s eyes had gone wide and her jaw had dropped. “Are you serious?”

“I am,” said Uncle Alec, a hint of a smile on his round face. “As long as it’s all right with Odelia, of course.” He cast a questioning look at his niece, who smiled and nodded. “Well, looks as if that’s settled then.”

“I’m going to be reporter?” asked Ellie, who clearly hadn’t expected this.

“Now, that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” said the Chief, wagging a finger in Ellie’s direction. “You will still have to face the consequences of your behavior. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” said Ellie dutifully, but her eyes were sparkling, and she looked more alive.

“Do you know where the Gazette offices are located?” asked Odelia.

“Oh, absolutely,” said the girl excitedly.

“Meet you there tomorrow morning at nine?”

“You bet,” said Ellie, and jumped up from her chair to shake Odelia’s hand vigorously. “This is, like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Miss Poole. Like, ever!”

“Well, make sure you don’t blow it,” said Uncle Alec. “Miss Poole will report both to me and to Mrs. Doubtfire, and your behavior this next week will go a long way toward reestablishing your standing in this school.”

“Yes, sir!” said Ellie, and practically jumped to attention as she spoke these words.

11

After the eventful time we’d had at the golf links, then the Hampton Heisters’ latest endeavor and the youthful school arsonist, I was frankly happy to be home again, so I could have a bite to eat and a little nap. But first I wanted to check on our friends Harriet and Brutus and how they were faring with their new humans: Ted and Marcie Trapper.

So Dooley and I headed over to the Trappers’ backyard and were immediately greeted by a sight to remember: Ted Trapper was throwing a ball and seemed to expect Brutus and Harriet to run after this ball and return it to him for some reason. Now I’ve seen dogs perform this kind of trick, but frankly I’ve never seen a cat act this way.

And yet when we arrived Brutus had just picked up the ball between his jaws and was returning it to Ted, who rubbed our friend’s head and said, “Now there’s a good boy.” Then he proceeded to throw the ball again and said, “Fetch, Brutus! Get the ball, buddy!”

And lo and behold: Brutus hurried in the direction Ted had thrown the ball and moments later had found it and was retrieving it, as per his new human’s instructions.

I stared at our friend with growing concern.

“Has he been at this long?” I asked Harriet.

“Ted has been playing fetch with him for the past hour,” said Harriet, looking and sounding a little dispirited, I felt.

“You’re kidding,” I said. “Brutus? Playing fetch?”

“He seems to feel that he should give Ted the opportunity to create a bond, and playing fetch seems to be part and parcel of this whole bonding ritual Ted worked out.”

“But surely fetch is a game only practiced by dogs?”

“I know, but what can I do? If Brutus wants to be adopted by Ted and Marcie, playing fetch is part of the deal—as is going to the dog park, and going for daily walks.”

I watched with openmouthed horror how Brutus dutifully returned the ball for the umpteenth time, not looking very happy as he did. Contrary to dogs, cats don’t get all excited at the prospect of returning an item thrown at some speed in a certain direction. I mean, what’s the point? They throw the ball, you return the ball, only for them to throw it again! Like golf, it all seems pointless and a complete waste of our valuable time.

“I wish he’d stop throwing the ball for Brutus and start throwing the ball for me,” said Rufus, who was lying next to Harriet and looking at the spectacle with dismay.

“This just isn’t right,” I said.

“Oh, I know,” said Rufus. “And I keep telling Brutus it ain’t right, but he keeps ignoring me. He says a cat can be the best dog man has ever known, and he’s going to prove it.”

“But why?” I asked. “I don’t understand!”

“Because Brutus wants to be adopted by a normal family,” said Harriet sadly.

“What’s wrong with his own family?”

“Just that: they’re not normal. They always get into all kinds of trouble.”

“So weird.”

“Max?” asked Dooley.

“Mh?”

“Why is Brutus running after that ball? And why does Ted keep throwing the ball even after Brutus has returned the ball?”

“It’s some kind of game,” I explained. “Brutus hopes it will establish a bond with Ted.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Brutus wants to become like me,” said Rufus. “He doesn’t want to be a cat anymore.”

“But why?”

“I think he’s suffering from what is commonly termed an identity crisis,” I said. “Though if you really want to know what brought this on you’ll have to ask a shrink.”

“Maybe we have to take him to Vena?” Dooley suggested.

“Vena is not a shrink,” I said. “She’s a vet.”

“I tried to reason with him,” said Harriet. “And so did Rufus, but he insists he knows what he’s doing, and doesn’t want to listen to anything I say.”

“Or anything I say,” Rufus added.

“Fetch, Brutus!” Ted called out again, and threw the ball as hard as he could in the direction of the fence. Unfortunately it got stuck there, but instead of ceasing and desisting and telling Ted to fetch his own damn ball, Brutus jumped to the task, and tried to retrieve the ball from where itwas lodged, about five feet high.

“Catch, Brutus!” Ted said encouragingly. “Catch the ball, little buddy!”

But of course there was no way Brutus would ever be able to catch this particular ball. But still our friend wasn’t giving up: he was jumping high, going for the win!

“Oh, Brutus, give it up already!” Harriet yelled.

“Never!” Brutus yelled back. “I’m going to get this ball if it kills me!”

“I can’t watch this, Max,” said Dooley.

“Frankly, neither can I,” I confessed.

“I’ll get that ball for you, Ted,” said Rufus, who’s a lot bigger than Brutus, and started trundling over in the direction of the fence. For him it would be a cinch.

“No, Rufus!” said Ted sharply. “That’s Brutus’s ball, and he’s the one who has to get it back to me!”

“What’s with all the yapping!” suddenly a familiar voice rang out from across the fence, and when we looked over, we saw that Gran’s head had appeared. She was craning her neck and trying to figure out what was going on.

“Ted is training Brutus to be a dog,” I told her. “But he threw the ball so high and hard it got stuck and now Brutus can’t reach it but Ted is still insisting he get it for him.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” said Gran, and glanced down to where Brutus was trying his darndest to be a ‘good boy.’ She grabbed the ball. “Is this what all the fuss is about?”

“Hey, that’s my ball, Vesta,” said Ted.

“If this is your ball, then why are you making my cat try to catch it?” she asked.

“A reasonable question,” Dooley said, nodding.

“He’s not your cat anymore,” said Ted with a touch of belligerence. “Brutus is mine now.”

“Oh, you idiot,” said Vesta, and I wondered if she was referring to Ted or to Brutus. Maybe to both. “Catch, Ted,” she said, then brought her arm back like a pro pitcher, and threw that ball straight onto the roof of Ted’s house!

“Hey!” said Ted. “You did that on purpose!”

“Of course I did that on purpose, you silly man,” said Gran. “And if you catch the ball for me I’ll give you a pat on the head and tell you that you’re a good boy. Now fetch!”

And with these words, she broke out into raucous laughter and was gone.

12

Odelia was just relaxing on the couch—it was Chase’s turn to cook dinner—and going over her notes for the story about the Hampton Heisters’ breakin at Katrina MacKney’s house, when her phone suddenly attracted her attention. When she picked it from the coffee table, she saw she’d received a message from an unknown number.Much to her surprise the message read, ‘Hi Odelia. This is Carl Strauss. We met today at the links. I’ve been giving what you told me some more thought and I would like to meet and discuss a possible solution. How about tonight at my place? Ten o’clock too late for you?’

“Oh, this is great,” she said.

“What is it, babe?” Chase called from the kitchen.

“A message from Carl Strauss!” she said. “He wants to meet tonight. I think he just might be coming around on the whole divorce thing after all!”

Chase came walking out of the kitchen, an apron tied to his muscular torso and wearing a frown on his face.“Are you sure this is such a good idea? Carl Strauss is as famous for his golf swing as he is for being a playboy. What if he just wants you to drop by so he can put the moves on you?”

“No way. You should have seen him this afternoon. The guy doesn’t even like me. No, I’m pretty sure all he wants is to talk about the divorce.”

“Maybe I should tag along.”

“No, I better go by myself. This is my chance to convince him a divorce is the best thing for everyone. And if you suddenly show up he just might change his mind again.”

Chase didn’t look convinced, but since he basically trusted Odelia’s judgment, he nodded and returned to the kitchen.

“What are you cooking?” asked Odelia.

“Spaghetti bolognese,” said Chase.

Odelia grinned. Chase was probably the best husband any woman could hope to find, but unfortunately when it came to his cooking skills, the man was a one-hit wonder.

Just then, Gran walked in, looking like a cat who caught a mouse.

“What are you looking so pleased about?” asked Odelia.

“I just told Ted off,” said Gran. “He’s trying to turn Brutus into a dog, so I gave him a taste of his own medicine.”

“What did you do?”

“I threw his ball on the roof. See if he can catch that!”

“Gran, you shouldn’t antagonize the Trappers. You never know when you might need them.”

“Need them! I’m never going to have any need for Ted Trapper as long as I live. And if I ever do, you better shoot me!”

And with this sentiment clearly expressed, she ducked into the kitchen and asked,“What are you cooking? God, not spaghetti bolognese again!”

“It’s my specialty!” said Chase.

“We had spaghetti yesterday! And the day before!”

“So? Italians eat pasta every day for their entire life. And the oldest Italian just turned a hundred-and-eleven.”

“I don’t want to be a hundred-and-eleven! I just want to eat some decent food!”

“Pasta is good for you, Grandma.”

“Don’t call me Grandma. I’m not your grandmother, Chase Kingsley.”

“You became my grandma when I married your granddaughter. Have a taste of this.”

Slurping sounds emanated from the kitchen, and for a moment silence reigned, then Gran said,“Pretty good. What did you put in this? Cannabis?”

“It’s my secret sauce.”

“So what’s in it?”

“That’s just it. It’s a secret.”

“No, but what’s in it?”

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a secret, Grandma!”

“Stop calling me grandma and tell me what’s in it!”

“Okay, but only if you promise not to tell anyone.”

“I promise, now just tell me before I smack you over the head with this spoon.” The conversation was carried on in whispered tones, and then Gran said, “You son of a gun! Okay, you can call me Grandma from now on.”

“What’s going on here?” asked Mom as she entered through the front door.

“Chase is cooking dinner. Gran has just thrown Ted’s ball on the roof where he can’t get it. And I just got a message from Carl Strauss for a late-night meeting about his divorce. Oh, and Chase revealed the secret ingredient of his spaghetti sauce to Gran, earning himself brownie points.”

“Secret ingredient?” asked Mom as she hung her purse from a chair and lowered herself onto the couch next to her daughter. “What’s the secret ingredient?”

“I just told you Carl Strauss wants to meet and all you care about is Chase’s secret ingredient?”

“I like his sauce, and I’ve always wondered how he does it.”

“Oregano, that’s the secret. But don’t tell him I told you.”

“Oregano? Doesn’t everybody put oregano in their bolognese?”

“They do, but Chase doesn’t know that. He thinks he invented it. Now tell me what I should wear tonight.” It wasn’t every night that one gets invited for an exclusive one-on-one with the world’s most famous and best pro golfer, after all.

“Nothing too revealing if I were you,” said Mom. “Maybe a turtleneck sweater? Or better yet, one of those big fleece sweaters that people can’t see if you’re a boy or a girl. The important thing, honey, is not to give him any reason to jump your bones.”

“He’s not going to jump my bones, Mom. This is a business meeting.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come? This man has the worst reputation.”

“I’m sure.”

The door opened again and Dad walked in.“Mh, something smells good,” he said, sniffing the air expectantly.

“Chase is cooking his famous spaghetti bolognese,” Mom said as she switched on the television and channel-surfed until she found one of the cooking channels that were all the rage. She had a theory that watching people cook and eat caused the stomach to produce those enzymes and juices that give the digestive process a real boost. Or maybe she simply liked to watch people cook and eat, that was also possible, of course.

“I’m starving,” said Dad, dropping down onto the couch next to his wife and daughter. “Ida Baumgartner was in today. Again, I should add.”

“What did she suffer from this time?” asked Odelia. Mrs. Baumgartner was Dad’s most loyal patient. Not a day went by that she wasn’t in his office with some new illness.

“Today she thought she just might be pregnant.”

“Pregnant!” Mom cried.

“I told her that being pregnant at the age of sixty-one is highly unlikely. Also because she claims not to have been with a man since her husband died, which makes it even more unlikely. But she says she’s heard about women getting pregnant without the assistance of a man, and she thinks she just might be one of those women.”

“I think she’s running out of diseases,” said Mom. “She’s used up all of them and now she’s grasping at straws.”

“Oh, there’s still plenty of diseases she hasn’t suffered from yet,” said Dad, rubbing his face.

“Your daughter has a hot date with Carl Strauss tonight,” said Mom, giving Odelia a pointed look. “Now what are you going to do about it?”

“Do about it? Our daughter is old and wise enough to handle herself, honey.”

“And it’s not a date, Mom,” said Odelia. “Like I said, it’s a business meeting.”

“In the middle of the night? At the man’s house? I don’t think so!”

“Oh, back off, woman,” said Dad good-naturedly. “We raised our daughter well. She can take care of herself just fine.”

And so it was decided: Odelia was going all by herself, no assistance needed, to wrangle Carl Strauss into accepting a divorce. And then they all sat down to enjoy Chase’s spaghetti bolognese—his not-so-secret secret ingredient included.

13

After the frankly humiliating display at the Trappers, Dooley and I decided to return home. But before we could, Harriet came tripping after us and said,“Please don’t leave me with these people, Max. They’re trying to turn me into a dog, too, and I don’t like it!”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re taking us out for walks twice a day—just like a dog!”

“That’s probably because they’re not used to having cats,” I said. “Just give them time. They’ll soon learn the difference between cats and dogs and treat you accordingly.”

“But, Max—I don’t want to be a dog!”

Rufus, who was right behind us, cleared his throat.“Why? Is being a dog so terrible?”

“No, it’s not, Rufus,” said Harriet in measured tones, “but I’m a cat, not a dog.”

“Then you shouldn’t have decided to run away from home and join a dog household,” said Rufus, offering a stark critique of Brutus and Harriet’s behavior.

“Run away from home? I didn’t run away from home.”

“Oh, and what do you call this, then?”

“My home is just next door! If I really wanted to run away from home don’t you think I’d gone a little farther afield than this?”

“You want to know what I think? I think you and Brutus were jealous of the nice life I lead, and you decided you wanted to cut in on the action, that’s what I think.”

“Jealous? Me? As if!”

“So why do this? Why exchange a perfectly fine home for my home?”

Rufus, usually such a placid and laid-back dog, seemed not only puzzled but actually displeased at Harriet and Brutus’s behavior and I didn’t blame him. I didn’t fully endorse their big move either, to be honest.

“Look, this wasn’t my idea, okay? This was Brutus’s idea—let’s be perfectly clear about that. The only reason I’m here is because I like to stand by my man.”

“Isn’t there a song that goes like that?” asked Dooley.

“I think there is,” I said.

“Well, if you’re going to join a dog household, don’t be surprised if they’re going to treat you like a dog is all I’m saying,” said Rufus. “Now let’s go before we’re too late.”

“Too late? Too late for what?”

“The dog park, of course!”

“Again?!” said Harriet, then gave me a hopeless look. “Don’t leave me alone with these people, Max. They’re going to turn me into a dog, I just know they will.”

“You mean, like for real?” asked Dooley, interested. “With plastic surgery and stuff?”

“No, silly,” said Harriet. “Just the behavior. Ted and Marcie expect Brutus and me to behave like dogs, and if we do, we get a biscuit.”

“Well, that’s not so bad, is it?” I asked.

“A dog biscuit, Max!”

“Let’s go, people! Time’s a-wasting!” Ted called out. He’d been staring up at the roof for the past ten minutes, presumably wondering how he was going to get that ball down from there without breaking his neck. But for the moment he seemed to have given up, and was now rattling several leashes to take his doggies for a walk to the dog park again.

“Mind if we tag along?” I asked, even though I knew Ted doesn’t speak cat—or dog, for that matter.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Ted said, and attached a leash to Harriet’s collar, then a leash to Brutus’s collar, and finally a leash to Rufus’s collar, the only one who actually seemed to enjoy the process.

“This is so humiliating,” Harriet said, shaking her head.

“It’s all part of the process, honey bunch,” said Brutus. “Once Ted learns to trust us, he’ll understand we don’t need any leashes—or collars. Just you wait and see.”

And so we set out for the great unknown—the dog park!

“Do you know I’ve never been there before, Max?” said Dooley.

“Me neither, Dooley,” I confessed. “But I’m very curious to see what it looks like.”

Cats, as a rule, don’t go around visiting the dog park, for obvious reasons, but now that we were in the company of Ted and Rufus, and were there as official guests of the dog-and-owner combo, I didn’t think the other dogs would mind the intrusion into their midst of their mortal enemy. I just hoped they wouldn’t attack en masse. One or two dogs, I can handle, but a dozen or two dozen? Let’s just say I’m no Bruce Lee.

The dog park turned out to be a nice patch of greenery in the heart of our neighborhood, where dog owners come to take their dogs for a walk, and allow them to do their business, at which point the plastic baggies come out, and those products of their defecation are swiftly dealt with and magically disappear into those selfsame baggies. It’s a smooth and well-rehearsed process, and as I looked around I could easily see half a dozen dogs whose acquaintance I’d made in the recent past. One of those dogs was Fifi, who belongs to Odelia’s next-door neighbor Kurt Mayfield, a retired music teacher. Fifi is a small white fluffy Yorkshire terrier, and probably the sweetest dog on the planet. I like her a lot, not least because she once saved me from a watery death.

“Hey, you guys!” she said the moment she saw us. “Decided to see how the other half lives?”

“Brutus has decided he wants to become a dog,” I said. “So we decided to keep him company on one of his first outings as a New Dog.”

“Brutus wants to become a dog?” asked Fifi, much surprised as she studied Brutus intently. Our butch black friend was sniffing around a nearby tree, clearly debating whether to lift his hind leg or not. “But how? And why?”

“The how is a mystery, and the why even more so,” I admitted.

“I think he’ll have plastic surgery,” said Dooley. “He’ll surgically get himself changed into a dog.”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“No, but it’s true,” said Dooley when Fifi merely gawked at him. “He’ll have to change his ears, and his face and his tail, of course. And then he’ll change his name to Rambo.”

“No way!” said Fifi.

“Dooley is simply speculating,” I said. “None of this is even remotely true. Yet.”

Though as we all looked at Brutus, suddenly he actually did raise his hind leg, and he actually did have a tinkle against that tree.

“He’s learned lesson number one of being a dog,” said Fifi admiringly. “And his technique is impeccable. I have to give him that. Ten points for Brutus—or Rambo.”

“He’s also learning how to play fetch,” said Dooley. “And he’s getting pretty good at it, too.”

“Brutus is playing fetch?” said Fifi.

“Oh, yeah,” I said with a grin.

Just then Rufus came lumbering up.“I can’t watch this,” he said. “Max, can’t you do something? Other dogs are starting to make fun of me behind my back. They’re calling me names and telling me I’ve becomes a cat friend.”

“Is that so bad?” I asked.

“It is to some dogs. For them being a cat friend pretty much amounts to treason.”

“They need to learn to relax.”

“You tell them that,” he said, gesturing with his head to a small group of very mean-looking dogs, who stood eyeing Brutus with menace written all over their features.

Harriet now also came sidling up to us.“If this keeps up, Brutus is going to get mauled,” she announced.

“Yeah, unless the operation is a success,” said Dooley. “In which case he’ll join them.”

“Hiya fellas!” Brutus called out to the dangerous-looking dogs.

They didn’t respond, but merely growled something unintelligible that didn’t sound very hospitable at all.

“I think Max was right and Brutus should see a shrink,” said Harriet. “A cat shrink.”

“Or a dog shrink,” said Dooley helpfully.

“Any shrink!” She sighed. “If this keeps up, I just might have to leave him.”

“That would do the trick,” I told her. “If you threaten to leave him, he just might snap out of this delusion, and come home.”

“Do you think the Pooles will take us back?”

“Oh, sure,” I said. “They’ll be very happy to welcome you back. No doubt about it.”

“He’s going for it, you guys,” said Fifi suddenly. “He’s going for number two!”

And as we watched, Brutus assumed the position and deposited a neat little pile of doo-doo on the ground, and in perfect canine fashion, too.

“Good boy!” said Ted, and with a flourish took a little plastic baggie from his pocket.

“Gee, thanks, Ted,” said Brutus, looking very pleased with himself. “I didn’t know I had it in me.”

“It’s happening,” said Dooley. “He’s turning into a dog, and he doesn’t even need surgery!”

“This is a nightmare,” said Harriet, shaking her head. “An absolute nightmare.”

“It could be worse,” I said. “He could be…”

Suddenly Brutus started gamboling around like a dog, yapping and jumping up and down.

“… prancing.”

“Don’t come over here,” Harriet murmured. “Please don’t come over here.”

But of course Brutus did come over here, and announced, as he kept practicing his prancing moves,“Hey, you guys. I just had a great idea. From now on I’m denouncing the name Brutus. From now on I want to be called… Rambo!”

“The fever is getting worse, Max,” Dooley whispered. “Soon he’ll be beyond salvage.”

“You can say that again,” I whispered back.

From the corner of my eye, I suddenly thought I detected movement. And when I turned in the direction of the movement, I saw a man, hiding behind a tree, holding up his smartphone, and filming us!

“Look!” I called out. “That guy is filming us!”

“What man?” asked Harriet, looking in the direction indicated. “Oh, you’re right, Max. That man is actually filming us.”

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy, Max?” asked Dooley.

“You bet it is,” I said. “Hey, fella! You have to stop that!” I called out. But of course the man couldn’t understand a word I said, and just kept on filming. He was a bearded individual, with a round face, and looked to be in his early twenties. He was dressed in cargo pants and a Star Wars T-shirt.

“Maybe he’s a movie producer,” said Harriet hopefully. “Or a Hollywood scout?”

“Why would a Hollywood scout scout out a dog park?” I asked.

“Casting parts in a new movie or TV series?”

“Is that man bothering you, Max?” asked Rufus.

“Yes, he most certainly is,” I told my friend the sheepdog.

“Fifi, let’s get him,” said Rufus, and Fifi barked in excited agreement. Dogs always like to chase something, you see, whether it’s a ball or a Hollywood scout.

And so they set out to catch this man, or chase him away. The guy, when he saw that he’d been well and truly busted, chose to beat an urgent retreat, and took off.

“Hey!” Rufus called out. “Hey, you there!”

But the man was running at full tilt, and since Rufus is a big lumbering sheepdog, and Fifi is a very tiny Yorkie, they were no match for him, unfortunately, and even less so when he mounted a flashy mountain bike and pedaled off at a high rate of speed.

“Max!” said Harriet, as she gave me a slap on the arm. “You just chased away my talent scout! Now the world will never know what a formidableartiste I am!”

And a good thing, too, I would have said, though I merely thought these words, not actually spoke them out loud. Hey, I don’t have a death wish, thank you very much!

14

Odelia arrived at Carl’s mansion feeling hopeful. She didn’t know what had made the golfer change his mind but she was sure her efforts that afternoon had something to do with it. She’d pleaded Erica’s case with poise and grace and without getting on her high horse and calling the obstinate golfer all kinds of names when he refused to budge.

Oddly enough the front gate was open so she drove right in. She would have expected a man of Carl’s stature to have a small contingent of security people guarding him around the clock, but as she zoomed along the gravel drive and up to the house she encountered none of them. That afternoon at the golf course she’d spotted at least two or three of his security detail, keeping a discreet distance, but now she didn’t see any.

She parked in front of the house and got out. The front door was open, which was also a little bizarre, but then she figured he’d probably told his people that she was coming, and had asked them to leave the door ajar so she could step right in.

“Carl?” she called out as she entered the front hall. “Mr. Strauss?”

The lights were dimmed, but she could see that the place was very nicely decorated, with golfing memorabilia welcoming Carl’s guests. There were glass display cases holding his many trophies, and even one with what looked like a golden golf club.

She decided to walk right through, hoping Carl hadn’t forgotten about their appointment, or had had a change of heart at the last minute. A big sports celebrity like him probably had dozens of balls in the air, no pun intended, and plenty of people wanting to encroach upon his precious leisure time.

She walked through to what looked like a large living room, with comfortable white leather couches set in front of a very large TV screen bolted to the wall, where a greatest hits video was playing showcasing Carl’s golfing prowess. The man clearly loved watching himself in action.

“Mr. Strauss?” she called out again, then moved beyond the living room and into the next room, which was the library. And when that proved empty, she walked into the man’s office, dominated by a large mahogany desk and more golfing trophies. Also framed pictures of Carl with presidents and other sports heroes. And as she moved into the direction of the man’s desk, that’s when she saw him: on the floor between the desk and the window behind it, Carl was lying face down on the carpet, a large gash on his head, and a golf club lying nearby, blood on the business end of the makeshift weapon.

“Carl!” she called out, and knelt down next to the fallen golfer. She felt for a pulse, and was relieved to find one, though extremely weak. Immediately she took out her phone, but before she could dial 911, suddenly she heard a noise, and when she looked up she saw five dark figures spring up from behind a Chesterfield, and sprint for the door.

“Hold it!” she yelled, and went in pursuit of the figures, who were carrying bulky gym bags. They were quick off the mark, but she was no slouch either, and gave good pursuit. They were out and onto the patio in seconds, and then hauling ass in the direction of the fence lining the property. Odelia was giving it all she had, and as she gained on one of the figures, suddenly the person tripped over a root or a branch and did a face plant, and immediately she was on top of them and held the hooded figure down. The others, unfortunately, were scaling the fence as she watched and were out of sight in moments. She heard the noise of scooters’ engines gunning, and the noise disappeared into the night.

“Don’t move,” she told the person she caught. He or she was writhing and bucking, trying to shift Odelia’s weight and get away.

“Get off me!” said the figure, and when Odelia turned the person around, and yanked down the hood, she saw that it was a young girl, a teenager still, with purple hair, looking very upset at being caught.

“Did you do that?” Odelia demanded. “Did you hit Carl over the head just now?”

“No, I didn’t. Let me go!”

“Not a chance,” she said, and this time she did dial 911. “You’re the Hampton Heisters, aren’t you? You and your friends?”

“I’m not telling you shit, lady,” the girl spat.

“Well, you just went too far,” said Odelia. “You just graduated from being a thief and a burglar to attempted murder.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. And you better pray that Carl pulls through.”

“We didn’t do that! He was like that when we got here, okay?”

“You didn’t hit him over the head?”

“Of course not. I’m not crazy.”

“You better come with me,” said Odelia, and yanked the girl to her feet and marched her off to the house. “My uncle will be here soon, and you can tell him all about it.”

“You’re Odelia Poole, aren’t you? The reporter?”

“What’s your name?”

There was a pause, then:“Emma.”

“Emma and what else?”

“Emma Hudson.”

“Well, Emma Hudson, it looks like you’re in a great deal of trouble.”

“I could say the same about you… Odelia.”

“What do you mean?”

“I caught you, didn’t I? And I could tell the police that you hit Carl over the head.”

“When I got here Carl was already down.”

Emma shrugged.“It’s your word against mine.”

Odelia rooted through the girl’s backpack, and found several trophies, three Rolex watches and several other items of considerable value. She held them up. “Now I wonder who the police are going to believe? A thief? Or a reporter who had an appointment for a meeting with Carl.”

Emma made a face, then glanced in the direction of the golf pro’s inert body. “Is he dead?”

“No, he’s not. No thanks to you, by the way. Why didn’t you call an ambulance when you found him like this?”

She shrugged.“I told the others we should, but they told me to wait.”

“They wanted to clean the place out first,” said Odelia, nodding.

“To be honest we found him just before you caught us. I didn’t even think anybody was home.”

“Even though the TV was blaring away in the living room?”

“Plenty of people leave the TV on—to scare away potential burglars.”

The sound of a police siren suddenly rent the air, and Odelia was glad that help was on the way. Judging from Carl’s chalk-white appearance, it was going to be touch and go.

15

Cat choir wasn’t a pleasant affair that night. Brutus and Harriet’s recent behavior had given rise to plenty of commentary, and since Dooley and myself were still considered their closest friends and housemates, we were also looked at askance. The term cats were bandying about was ‘anti-cat behavior’ andthey seemed to feel that this was a charge serious enough to warrant a very serious discussion.

Harriet and Brutus, who were also present, but were keeping to the sidelines out of a cat’s natural sense of self-preservation, watched the scene with slight trepidation.

“I think they should both be expelled,” said Shanille, cat choir’s director. “We can’t have this kind of behavior in cat choir, and I feel we need to set an example: make it absolutely clear that this cannot and will not be condoned.”

“But what are you actually accusing them of?” I asked. “What constitutes anti-cat behavior?”

“They’re trying to become dogs, Max! And everybody knows that dogs are a cat’s natural enemy, so basically they’re colluding with the enemy. In other words: treason.”

“They’re not actually trying to become dogs,” I argued. “All they want is to fit into their new environment, and so what if they try to humor their new human?”

“This goes way behind humoring their new human. Did they or did they not go to the dog park today—twice?”

“Well, they did,” I admitted.

“And did or didn’t Brutus play fetch with Ted Trapper?”

“Well, sure, but…”

“And did or didn’t he assume the position and pee and poo like a dog!” She cast a very irate look in the culprit’s direction. “Answer me!”

“Well, he did,” I said, “but…”

“I rest my case,” said Shanille.

“Kingman,” I said, turning to Hampton Cove’s unofficial feline mayor. “You don’t really think their behavior constitutes treason, do you?”

“I don’t know, Max,” said Kingman, a very large cat who all cats look to for the deciding vote in such matters. “You’ve got to admit it looks pretty bad. Peeing like a dog, pooping like a dog… playing fetch, for crying out loud. This is not the kind of behavior we like to see in an upstanding member of the feline community.”

“But he was only doing it to humor his human!”

“The exact definition of treason,” said Shanille, who wasn’t beating about the bush.

More cats had gathered around, and all of them seemed to consider Brutus’s behavior especially as the kind of thing that simply could not be condoned.

“Look, I have nothing against dogs, personally,” said Buster, the hairdresser’s Maine Coon, “but you have to admit that there’s a vast difference between the two species, and once you start trying to blur those lines, or try to erase them, that way lies disaster.”

“But surely you don’t believe Brutus would actually try to be a dog,” I said. “That’s crazy. Or Harriet, for that matter. Harriet is without a doubt the most catty cat cat choir has ever been proud to call a member. And Brutus? We all know that Brutus is a cat’s cat.”

“Well spoken, Max!” Harriet called out.

“Max, I appreciate that you’re rooting for your friends,” said Kingman, “but I think it’s time we put this matter to a vote. All those in favor of expulsion, raise your paws, please.”

Plenty of paws went up.

“All those against?”

Exactly two paws were raised, and those were mine and Dooley’s.

“I think this makes matters perfectly clear,” said Shanille, who seemed to find particular pleasure in these proceedings. Then again, Shanille has never been a big fan of Harriet, and this was her chance to get even. “Harriet and Brutus—you are hereby expelled from cat choir. This decision is permanent, or at least until you have proven yourselves worthy of being called members of the cat community again, and have vowed never to run with the dogs!”

“I don’t evenwant to be a member of cat choir anymore!” said Brutus. “Dogs have more fun!” And with these words, he was off, and I just had a feeling I knew exactly where he was going, too.

And since I didn’t really feel like sticking around, I decided to follow my friends, and so did Dooley.

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

“To the other side of the park, Dooley.”

“What’s on the other side of the park?”

“Dog choir,” I said with a smile.

“Oh, I remember! Nice!”

“Just for tonight, mind you. We can’t abandon cat choir forever. Also, we need to keep on pleading Brutus and Harriet’s case. Make them let our friends back into cat choir.”

“Do you think they’ll let them come back?”

“I think so,” I said. “Harriet is the best soprano cat choir has ever had, and Brutus has a very serviceable baritone. Without them, cat choir simply isn’t the same.”

We’d arrived on the other side of the park, and lo and behold: our friends Fifi and Rufus were there waiting for us, and so was Lil Ran, a large Irish Setter we met during a previous adventure. The three of them had initiated dog choir, figuring that it shouldn’t just be cats who get to hang out at night and have fun. Since dog choir’s inception they’d been joined by several more dogs, most of whom I didn’t know, since I don’t usually run in canine circles, and so now Harriet and Brutus were also going to join up.

“I’m officially requesting permission to join dog choir,” Brutus announced.

“What’s your name, friend?” asked Lil Ran.

“Rambo,” said Brutus.

“But, um… you’re a cat, Rambo.”

“I may look like a cat,” said Brutus, tilting his chin in a proud gesture, “but in my heart of hearts I’m really a dog, and have always been a dog.”

“Uh-huh,” said Lil Ran, clearly confused about this. “And how about you, sweetheart? Are you also a dog in a cat’s body?”

“No, I’m a cat,” said Harriet. “And proud to be one. But I’m also a cat who stands by her man. And if my precious angel decides he wants to be a dog, he has my full support.”

“Oh-kay,” said Lil Ran, looking even more confused. “Oh, hey, Max and Dooley,” he said, recognizing us. “Are you two also dogs now?”

“No, we’re still cats,” I said. “But we decided to keep an eye on Brutus. He’s going through a difficult time so he’s very vulnerable right now, and we don’t like leaving him alone.”

“No, I see your point. Brutus seems… confused.”

“So where do I sign up?” asked Brutus-slash-Rambo excitedly.

“You don’t really sign up,” said Rufus.

“We’re a very relaxed operation,” said Fifi. “We just hang out and shoot the breeze.”

“So who’s your conductor?” asked Harriet.

The dogs all shared glances.“Um… we don’t really have a conductor,” said Rufus.

“No conductor?” said Harriet, her eyes gleaming and her ears pricking up excitedly. “How about I’ll be your conductor from now on?”

“Um… well, sure. Why not?”

“Okay, gather round, you guys. The basses over there, the sopranos here, altos right here in front of me, and the tenors on the left. Now what kind of material have you been working with? Which compositions do you like to tackle? Which composers?”

“Um…”

“Oh, you guys!” She turned to me, eyes sparkling, and I could see what was happening. So I shook my head, but the train had already left the station. She clapped her paws. “You’re so lucky! I’m gonna turn dog choir into the best choir this town has ever seen! And then we’re going to compete with cat choir and we’re going to show Shanille what a real choir should sound like. Now for our first song I would like to suggest a simple thing—to warm up those vocal cords. It’s calledWho let the dogs out!”

“Oh, dear,” I said. And judging from the looks on Rufus and Fifi’s faces, this sudden takeover of dog choir by an ambitious cat like Harriet and a wannabe dog like Brutus wasn’t going down well. Who let the dogs out? Harriet did.

I decided to take a backseat, as I wasn’t really in the mood for any more trouble tonight, and when I glanced over my shoulder, who should I see but… Chase!

“Max, come over here,” said the cop. I saw that his squad car stood idling at the curb. “Odelia needs you,” he declared shortly, and then held the door for me.

“Dooley!” I called out. “Odelia needs us!”

We both only needed one word, and moments later we were cruising along the road with the burly cop, on our way to Odelia’s rescue.

16

Odelia watched as Chase placed Emma under arrest. The girl was still swearing up and down that she hadn’t touched Carl. That she hadn’t even known he was home.

Carl, meanwhile, had been taken away in an ambulance to the nearest hospital. He’d suffered a vicious blow to the head, presumably with the golf club that was found next to his body. His skull had been fractured and it was a miracle he was still breathing.

“You better give me the names of your associates,” said Chase as he addressed Emma.

The girl was already a lot less cocky, but refused to give up her colleagues.

“I already told Miss Poole,” she said. “I’m not a snitch.”

They were still in Carl’s office, seated in the small nook he presumably reserved for his meetings. Emma sat sagged on the Chesterfield, with Chase towering over her, while Odelia stood by to take notes. Uncle Alec, meanwhile, was coordinating his team to comb through the house for clues, and to look for possible members of Emma’s squad.

“Look, if you don’t give me those names you’ll go down for this, Emma,” said Chase. “You’ll be the only one who gets charged and convicted while your friends all get off. Now is that fair? Is that right? I don’t think so.”

“I’m not going to name names, detective. These people are my friends.”

“Nice friends,” said Odelia.” To leave you behind like that.”

“They had no choice,” said Emma, giving Odelia a dirty look.

“And what if Carl doesn’t make it?” Chase asked, “and this turns into a murder inquiry?”

“We had nothing to do with that, I swear. If you’re looking for Carl’s attacker, why don’t you look at Miss Poole? She was right there when it happened. She could have picked up that golf club and hit Carl over the head with it.”

“If this is your line of defense it isn’t doing you any good, Emma.”

But Emma wasn’t impressed. Instead, she clammed up completely, and refused to talk until she’d been provided with a lawyer who could advise her of her rights.

And so she was duly escorted away by two officers and taken to the precinct.

“I don’t get it,” said Chase once Emma had been carted off. “The Hampton Heisters have never been involved with this kind of violence before. They’re thieves, not murderers. Why would they suddenly change their MO?”

“Maybe Carl caught them and they panicked?” Odelia suggested. “Emma said they didn’t think he was home.”

“I don’t know,” said Chase. “The girl doesn’t strike me as a killer. You?”

“No, she doesn’t,” Odelia admitted. “But that doesn’t mean anything. We don’t know who her friends are. They could be a lot more dangerous than her.”

“So you saw four of them take off, right?”

“Yeah, four.”

“So that means they’re a five-person crew. We’ll need to dig through Emma’s list of friends and known associates, and see if we can’t nail them that way. Cause I have a feeling she’s not going to give them up. Especially now that she’s decided to lawyer up.” He glanced in the direction of Abe Cornwell’s team, the county coroner, who were dusting the office for prints, and had placed the golf club on the desk. “Let’s hope we can lift a couple of good prints off that thing. Maybe we’ll know more when we do.”

“If this was a crime committed in a panic, there’s a good chance that we’ll find those prints,” Odelia agreed.

Chase was scrolling through Carl’s phone, which had been found on the floor. “Now this is odd,” he said after a moment.

“What?”

“You’re not in his calendar. Some woman named Zoe is. A meeting at nine-thirty.”

“Maybe Zoe was his code name for me?” That didn’t sound very plausible, though.

Uncle Alec walked in, accompanied by a very large man with a shaven head. He looked as if he spent most of his time at the gym.“This is Gustav,” said Uncle Alec. “Gustav is in charge of Carl’s security. Tell my detective what you just told me, Gustav.”

“Well, Carl told us he had a date tonight, and so he gave us all the night off,” said Gustav, looking a little shamefaced—presumably because he’d failed at his task of keeping his boss safe.

“I had an appointment with your boss,” said Odelia. “But that was a business meeting, not a date.”

Gustav shrugged his broad shoulders.“He didn’t say anything about a business meeting. He just told me he had a hot date and to make the usual arrangements.”

“And what were the usual arrangements?” asked Chase.

“Each time Carl had a date he wanted us to clear out so he had the house to himself. He also liked us to leave the front door unlocked, and the alarm turned off as well as all the cameras. He didn’t want us to know who was coming, most of the time, and didn’t want to be filmed either, having had a bad experience with a previous security team.”

“What bad experience?” asked Odelia, though she could already imagine.

“The team leader filmed one of his dates and the footage ended up on TMZ. Since then he likes to have the system turned off whenever he entertains a woman at the house, and for the staff to clear out. Not even the chef is allowed to stay on.”

“So that’s why the front door was unlocked and the front gate, too,” said Odelia. “But I don’t understand why he would call his meeting with me a hot date.”

“I told you,” said Chase with a shrug. “He probably had other ideas in mind when he invited you over.”

“But why would he call me Zoe? He knew perfectly well what my name was.”

“Maybe a code name?” Uncle Alec suggested. “Used for reasons of privacy?”

“I don’t know,” said Odelia. “This afternoon we didn’t exactly hit it off, and now suddenly he expected to have a hot date with me? Can I see that phone for a moment?”

She took the phone from Chase and frowned when she called up Carl’s outgoing messages. “There’s no message to me here,” she said. Then she checked the man’s number. “And this is not the number that sent me that message either.” She handed the phone back. “Does Carl have more than one phone?” she asked the burly guard.

Gustav nodded.“One for official business and one for personal one.”

Odelia took out her own phone.“Do you recognize this number?” she asked, calling up the message she got from Carl. “Is this the number he uses to text his girlfriends?”

Gustav glanced down at the message and shook his head.“I’ve never seen this number before.”

“Are you saying it wasn’t Carl who messaged me?”

“I’m saying that I know both his numbers and this isn’t one of them.”

“So if Carl didn’t invite me up here,” said Odelia. “Then who did?”

“Is it possible he’s got a third phone?” asked Chase.

“As far as I know he only has the two numbers: one official and one private.”

Uncle Alec scratched his scalp.“So if you’re not Zoe,” he said, “then who is?”

Gustav shrugged.“Frankly Carl has so many girlfriends it’s impossible to keep track.”

“You never heard of this Zoe before?”

“No. But then that’s not so unusual. Carl has what you might call an addiction, Chief. The guy has a voracious appetite for women. I’ve worked for him for only six months and in that time I’ve never known him to spend the night with the same woman twice.”

“How does his wife feel about that?” asked Chase.

Gustav grinned.“She’s away a lot.”

“How often could she possibly be away?”

“Well… she doesn’t like it out here all that much, so she spends most of her time either in Carl’s Park Avenue apartment, or in San Francisco, or she takes the private jet to go shopping in Paris or London… And then there’s St. Bart’s, of course, to work on her tan.” His grin widened. “I’d say Mr. Strauss entertains three or four girls a week here.”

“Three or four different girls?”

“Sometimes five or six.”

“But where does he meet them?”

“Mostly online.”

“He’s got several dating apps on here,” Chase confirmed. “Though it doesn’t look like he uses them under his real name, or even with his real picture.”

“No, Carl is a very private person, and very scared to have his dating life become a matter of public scrutiny,” Gustav confirmed. “Every girl he invites over also has to sign an NDA before she’s allowed to share his bed with him.”

“And they do?” asked Odelia, surprised.

“Oh, sure. Once they discover their date is the famous Carl Strauss they’ll sign anything for a chance to spend the night with the guy. He’s very popular.”

“Also very rich,” Uncle Alec said.

“That could have something to do with it,” Gustav admitted.

“Well, looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” said Uncle Alec. “And the first order of business will be to find this Zoe and see what she has to say about what happened here tonight.” He directed a look at his deputy. “Chase, you dig through that phone of Carl’s some more—check all of his dating apps and see if you can’t find Zoe. Meanwhile I’ll have another crack at Emma Hudson and see if she won’t give up her criminal associates.” He gave them a grim-faced look of determination. “This is the first chance we have at pouncing on those so-called Hampton Heisters and by God I’m going to nail them. If it’s up to me this is the last heist they’ve pulled in my town.”

17

Vesta and Scarlett had just received word about the terrible events that had unfolded at the house of Carl Strauss, and so they were extra vigilant as they rode around the neighborhood, keeping an eye on things as the diligent members of the watch they were.

“It’s those Hampton Heisters again,” said Vesta. “I should have known that sooner or later they’d end up murdering one of their victims.”

“He’s not dead, though, is he?” asked Scarlett.

“Not yet,” said Vesta ominously. “Though Odelia didn’t sound very hopeful. She said Carl looked terrible when she found him. More dead than alive.”

“Who would have thought that a gang of celebrity burglars would resort to murder?”

“I would. I just told you.”

“I know, but why murder one of their victims?”

“Odelia caught one, did I mention that?”

“Yes, you mentioned that. About five times already.”

“A young girl. Barely out of her teens.”

“Stands to reason. These young people are raised with celebrities on their minds. They read the magazines, they follow them on Instagram, and they want a piece of them.”

“That’s what you get when you post all of your wealth on Instagram all the time,” said Vesta. “It makes people get jealous and decide to get in on the action.”

“At least Odelia is safe. They could just as well have taken a whack at her as well.”

“She should have taken her husband’s advice and brought him along for that so-called interview.”

“So-called? You don’t think the interview was real?”

“Of course it wasn’t real! You know Carl’s reputation. He sees a woman he likes and immediately he expects her to jump into bed with him. He probably thought Odelia would be an easy target, so he invited her over in the middle of the night.”

“She just got married! She wouldn’t fall for that guy’s nonsense.”

“He didn’t know that, did he? Now will you look at that?” She pointed to a car that was driving very slowly in front of them. Too slowly to her liking.

“The Hampton Heisters!” said Scarlett. “Looking for another target!”

“Let’s nail them!” said Vesta, and punched down on the accelerator. She would have preferred if her son had allowed her to put one of those police lights in the car, and a police siren, too, but unfortunately Alec was very strict about that kind of thing.

“Ram them!” said Scarlett when Vesta had approached the car within ten yards. “Just ram them, Vesta—these are hardened criminals!”

And since Scarlett was always the more sensible of the twosome, Vesta decided to do as her friend suggested, and hit the car in the rear as hard as she could, consequences be damned!

The car in front was unceremoniously pushed out of the way, and made a kind of scissoring movement that caused it to end up across the road, hitting a mailbox and coming to a full stop. Immediately Vesta and Scarlett were out of the car, shaking off the slight sense of vertigo that had hit them when they hit the other vehicle. They were armed to the teeth with stun guns, cans of mace and the old shotgun Vesta’s husband had left her.

Only when they came upon the Hampton Heisters, ready to take them down, Vesta saw that a familiar figure was behind the wheel.

“Wilbur!” she cried as she caught sight of the face of the driver.

“Francis!” Scarlett called out when she came upon Wilbur’s passenger.

For it were indeed Father Reilly and Wilbur Vickery who were in the car.

“Are you the Hampton Heisters?” asked Vesta, pointing the can of mace at the owner of the General Store’s face. “Confess!”

“Of course not!” Wilbur cried. “Are you nuts?”

“Now why did you hit us?” asked Father Reilly, who looked a little dazed.

“We thought you were the Hampton Heisters,” said Scarlett.

“Are you the Hampton Heisters?” Vesta demanded.

“No!”

“Then what are you doing here in the middle of the night acting all suspicious?”

“Patrolling the neighborhood, just like you are!” said Wilbur.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re Hampton Cove’s newest neighborhood watch,” Father Reilly said.

“I don’t understand,” said Scarlett. “How can you be the neighborhood watch when we’re the neighborhood watch?”

“You don’t have a monopoly on being the neighborhood watch, Scarlett,” said Wilbur. “Anyone can start a neighborhood watch. That’s the point of a neighborhood watch. Concerned citizens looking out for each other.”

“And since you refused to allow us back on your watch,” said Father Reilly, “we just figured we’d start our own watch.”

“You can never have too many watches,” Wilbur chimed in, then pushed the can of mace out of his face. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You knew it was us and you decided to get rid of the competition. Wreck our car and wreck us!”

“I told you, Wilbur,” said Father Reilly. “Vesta and Scarlett aren’t the competition. We’re all in this together, working together to keep the streets of Hampton Cove safe from the kind of criminal vermin we don’t like to see crawling out of the gutters.”

“Then why did they attack us, huh? Tell me that!”

“We didn’t attack you,” said Vesta. “We thought you were the Hampton Heisters.”

“And we thoughtyou were the Hampton Heisters!” said Wilbur.

“Oh, jeez,” said Scarlett.

“Please don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Scarlett,” said Father Reilly.

“I think I liked it better when we were working together,” said Wilbur, gingerly touching his forehead.

“Okay, I want you both to go home and stop this nonsense,” said Vesta, putting her can of mace away.

“And I wantyou to go home and stop this nonsense,” said Wilbur with a touch of belligerence.

“Look, we are the official Hampton Cove neighborhood watch. So I’m telling you to cease and desist now. That’s an order.”

“You cease and desist!”

“I’m not telling you twice, Wilbur.”

“You already told him twice,” Scarlett pointed out.

“Well, I’m not telling him a third time! Go home and stay home, and let us deal with the violent criminals and the thugs and the Hampton Heisters.”

“This really is not a job for a woman, Vesta,” said Father Reilly. “So why don’t you go home to be with your family, mh? And let Wilbur and I deal with these monsters.”

“Francis Reilly, one more word from you and I will be forced to use lethal force!” Vesta growled. If there was one thing bound to get her worked up it was this nonsense.

“You’re not seriously considering attacking a man of God, are you, Vesta?” said Scarlett, shooting a stern look of warning in her friend’s direction.

“I will if he doesn’t clear out immediately,” said Vesta, standing her ground.

“Okay, fine,” said Wilbur. “You won this round. But tomorrow night we’ll be out here again, Vesta, patrolling these streets, and the night after that. We’re not going to stop providing the good people of Hampton Cove with the kind of protection they deserve.”

And with these words, he tried to start his engine. After a couple of tense moments, it actually turned over, and soon they were backing away slowly, causing the mailbox to collapse to the ground. And as they drove off, the engine making a strange rattling sound, Vesta and Scarlett were left looking at the first victim of what would from now on be known as the Watch Wars.

They restored the mailbox as well as they could, then got back into the car. But when Vesta tried to start it, the engine whined and complained for a few beats, but finally refused to be induced back to life.

Vesta pounded the steering wheel in frustration.

“Great. Wilbur and Francis killed our car,” said Scarlett with faux cheerfulness.

“They think they won the war,” said Vesta, “but what they did is win the battle.”

“So it’s war?”

“You bet your ass it’s war,” said Vesta with grim determination. “They want it—they got it!”

18

After an eventful night, Dooley and I were on the case again, accompanying Odelia to the hospital, where she hoped to talk to Carl. But when we got there it immediately became clear he wasn’t in a fit state to talk to anybody. The man was still in a coma, and the doctor confided in Odelia that things weren’t looking too good for the golfing pro.

“I didn’t know a golf club could be such a dangerous weapon, Max,” said Dooley as we sat at the foot of the bed while Odelia conducted a murmured conversation with the doctor about Carl’s chances of survival.

“Yeah, those golf clubs are pretty heavy,” I said. “And if you get a good whack across the noggin from one of them it probably does some serious damage.”

The golf club that had been used on Carl’s head was called a sand wedge, and was among the heavier ones in a golfer’s arsenal. It was mainly used to drive a ball out of a sand bunker, though clearly it could also be used for other purposes. The doctor, himself a golf enthusiast, was waxing eloquently now on the different kinds of clubs, claiming Carl’s attacker had picked the perfect club for the grisly task he or she had performed.

“Part of a golfer’s expertise is to pick the right club,” said the doctor. “And I’m sure that if Carl were to wake up right now he’d applaud his attacker’s good sense as well as his remarkable follow-through. See, it’s all about the wrist action.” And to demonstrate to Odelia whathe meant, he did a few practice swings with an imaginary sand wedge.

“When do you think he’ll wake up, doctor?” asked Odelia.

“Impossible to say, I’m afraid. He might never wake up, or he might wake up right now.”

Accompanying Odelia was Ellie Pack, the wannabe arsonist from the day before, who’d suddenly and overnight become a wannabe reporter instead. A good decision, as there’s probably more future in journalism than in arson.

“So we can’t interview him right now?” asked the girl, who’d put on a sensible blouse for the occasion, and a sensible skirt, and looked very different from the day before.

“No, I’m afraid we’re not going to get a peep out of Mr. Strauss,” said the doctor. He gestured to a television in the corner of the room, where a tape of greatest hits of the golfer was playing. “I thought it might stir his mind to come out of his coma,” he explained. “The human brain is still very much a mystery, and so is the kind of coma Mr. Strauss is now suffering from.” He shrugged. “If it doesn’t help, at least it doesn’t hurt.” And with these words of hope, he left us sitting around the sickbed of the famous golfer.

And as Odelia and Ellie compared notes, suddenly a familiar figure walked in, carrying a large bouquet of flowers. It was none other than Erica Barn, or Strauss. When she saw her husband, his head in a thick cast, and surrounded by all kinds of beep-beeping machines, she gasped in shock.“My God, what happened to him?”

“He was attacked last night,” said Odelia. “Ellie, this is Erica, Carl’s wife. Erica, this is Ellie, my apprentice.”

“How do you do, Erica?” said Ellie politely, and shook the woman’s hand.

Erica sunk down in a chair.“When I heard the news that Carl was in hospital, I had no idea it was this serious,” she said, placing the flowers on the floor. She looked up at Odelia. “I was just going to call you. Did you have any luck yesterday with Carl?”

“No, I’m afraid not. That is to say, I met him at the links yesterday but he said he’d never give you a divorce as long as he thought there was still hope of a reconciliation.”

“A reconciliation!”

“He seemed to believe firmly that you still love him.”

“The man must be absolutely delusional.”

“But then he invited me for a meeting at his house last night, and so I hoped he’d had a change of heart. But when I got there I found him unconscious on the floor, and five members of the Hampton Heisters fleeing the scene. I caught one of them, and she’s now in custody, suspected of the attack on your husband.”

“Who are these Hampton Heisters?”

“They’re a gang of thieves who target celebrities,” Odelia explained. “They’ve carried out half a dozen attacks in the last three months, and Carl is their latest victim.”

“Poor Carl,” said Erica, showing us that in spite of the acrimoniousness of their separation, she still cared for her soon-to-be ex-husband. “But I don’t understand. Where was his security detail when all this happened?”

“He’d sent them all home. On his calendar it showed that he had a date planned with a girl named Zoe, and the guy in charge of security told us that when that happened Carl usually sent everybody home so he would have the house to himself.”

“Oh, I know all about that,” said Erica. “When I had my first date with Carl we were all alone, which seemed a little strange for such a famous person. But then he explained that several years ago one of his security people had sold secretly filmed footage of one of his dates to the tabloid press.”

“Yeah, Gustav told us much the same thing last night.”

“So what are the doctors saying? Is he going to come out of this?”

“They’re not sure. The crack across the head broke his skull.”

Suddenly Odelia’s phone rang out its customary tune, and she quickly picked up. “Yes, Uncle Alec?” She listened for a moment, frowning, then said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” When she hung up, she glanced down at me and murmured, “My uncle wants to see me. Now.”

“Can I come, too, Miss Poole?” asked Ellie.

“Oh, sure. And please call me Odelia.”

“Thanks.” The girl smiled. “This is only my second day, Odelia, but I already know what I want to be.”

“Mh?” said Odelia, looking a little distracted after her uncle’s phone call.

“Reporter, of course. Just like you!”

19

“This is a first,” said Odelia, smiling a little uncertainly. She’d never before been invited into the interview room at the police precinct… at the suspect’s side of the table.

Her uncle was seated across from her, and he wasn’t smiling.

“Do you know why you’re in here?” he asked.

“Um, no,” she said, still smiling, though less so when she noticed her uncle’s serious demeanor.

“We’ve examined the golf club that was used as a weapon on Carl Strauss last night, and do you know what we found?”

“No, what did you find?”

“We pulled a clear set of fingerprints off that club. Yours.”

She blinked.“What do you mean?”

“Your fingerprints were on the club that was used to knock out Carl last night, Odelia. How do you explain that?”

“Um…”

“As far as I can tell there are only two possible explanations,” her uncle went on, without waiting for a reply. “Either you picked up the club when you arrived and found Carl unconscious on the floor, or…” He fixed her with a stern look. “You are the person who smacked Carl across thehead.”

“I certainly didn’t touch that club,” said Odelia indignantly. “You know I know better than that, Uncle Alec.” He watched her expectantly. Not unlike a cat watches a mouse. Well, not her cats, obviously, as they’d never been mousers. And then the realization hit her. “You don’t think I would actually…”

He merely arched a meaningful eyebrow.

“Uncle Alec! How can you even think such a thing!”

“What were your fingerprints doing on that club? That’s what I want to know.”

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation,” she sputtered.

“Okay. So what is it?”

“Well…” She cast around for a possible explanation for her prints to be on that club, but couldn’t think of a single one.

“Look, I know you’re not a killer,” said her uncle, softening. “But you can see how this complicates matters, don’t you?”

“I mean, why would I even want to hit Carl? I didn’t even know the guy.”

“I can think of a couple of reasons. We all know that Carl fashioned himself to be something of a ladies’ man. It’s not inconceivable that he came onto you last night and that you saw no other recourse than to defend yourself against his aggressive come-on.”

“Absolutely not!”

Her uncle held up his hand.“Now hear me out, honey. No one would blame you if you picked up that club and used it in self-defense. And if you tell me the truth right now I’ll make sure that the judge is lenient when he hears your plea.”

“The judge!”

“Did he attack you? Is that what happened? Did you arrive there and did he try any funny business?”

“Look, I already told you that when I arrived he was unconscious on the floor. I never even got a chance to talk to the guy. I was the one who found his body. If it hadn’t been for me he’d probably be dead right now, since those Hampton Heisters sure as heck weren’t going to call the emergency services after breaking into the man’s house.”

“I can think of one other motive why you would attack Carl Strauss,” her uncle inexorably went on, as if he hadn’t even heard her outburst. “You took on Erica Barn’s case yesterday, and I know for a fact that you’re a very sensitive young woman, and how sometimes you simply feel too much and too intensely. So I can imagine how Erica’s plight caused you to see her husband as a threat to her continued happiness.”

“No, I did not!”

He held up his hand.“And when you visited him last night you vowed to give it one more try: to convince him that he needed to grant his wife a divorce. Carl got belligerent and called Erica a few choice names, and so you took up her defense, for that’s exactly the kind of person that you are. Things got heated, arguments flew back and forth, and at some point Carl attacked you—physically attacked you—and so you grabbed the first thing you found and whacked him across the head.”

“I did not.”

“Or maybe he came at you with the club and you managed to wrestle it from his hands and hit him before he could hit you. Look, I don’t know how it all went down,” the police chief said as he rolled up his shirtsleeves, “which is exactly why you need to tell me right now what happened, and then we can deal with it.” He placed his hands flat on the table and gave her a look of concern. “You’re my favorite niece—you know that.”

“I’m your only niece,” she muttered.

“So I know you’re a good person through and through, and whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault. And I’m willing to go to bat for you here, you understand? But first you need to tell me what happened. Did he attack you? Is that how it started?”

“No! I told you, when I arrived he was already unconscious on the floor.”

Uncle Alec’s face took on a cold expression. “No need to lie to me. I’m on your side.”

“I know you are. Which is why you need to believe me when I tell you that I had nothing to do with this. I got there, found Carl on the floor, caught the Hampton Heisters and chased them and grabbed one of them—Emma Hudson. That’s what happened.”

“So you’re sticking to that story, are you?”

“It’s not a story. It’s the truth.”

“Mh,” the police chief said dubiously.

“It’s the truth! I swear on the heads of—”

“Careful now,” said her uncle, holding up a warning finger.

“I swear on heads of my cats that I told you the God’s honest truth.”

“You swear on the heads of Max and Dooley?”

“I swear on the heads of Max and Dooley.”

Her uncle gave her one of his penetrating looks, then finally his features relaxed into a smile.“Okay. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t lying.”

“Uncle Alec, you scared me!”

“A police chief needs to be scary sometimes.”

She realized she was sweating.“I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Well, now you know. So what do you think happened last night? Did Emma Hudson or one of her colleagues try to kill Carl, or do you think Erica is involved somehow?”

“Erica? Why would you think that?”

“Because she wanted a divorce and Carl wasn’t willing to give her one, so maybe she figured the only way out of that marriage was to get rid of Carl once and for all.”

“Did you talk to her? Does she have an alibi for last night?”

He tapped the table.“I did talk to her, and she doesn’t have an alibi. Well, at least not one to speak of. She was home alone last night, with no one to corroborate that. So I’m adding her to my list of suspects if you don’t mind.”

“As long as you take me off your list of suspects.”

He gave her a reassuring smile.“My instincts tell me you’re in the clear. But I had to make sure. Those fingerprints on that club don’t lie, and no judge is going to look kindly on a police chief who doesn’t investigate a suspect simply because she happens to be family.”

“I still don’t understand how my prints came to be on that club.”

“You went golfing with Carl yesterday?”

“Yeah, I did. But I didn’t use his clubs. I used my own clubs—well, the ones I rented from the club.”

“Mh,” said her uncle musingly as he rubbed his chin. “The only explanation I can think of is that you somehow handled that club while you were out golfing with Carl yesterday. But if you tell me that you never touched his clubs…”

“I didn’t. I swear. I don’t think he’d let anyone near his personal clubs, either.”

“Then I’m afraid, honey, I can’t take you off my list of suspects. Officially, at least.”

20

“Look, Charlene,” said Vesta as she gave the little white ball a good whack, making it zoom across the fairway and hit a nearby tree. “I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse, okay?”

“And what offer would that be?” asked Charlene with a bemused smile as she watched the spectacle unfold.

“I want to build three extra floors on top of the original two, see?”

“Okay.”

“So I’ve been told I need some kind of permit to do that. Not that I understand why the government should stick their big nose into my private affairs, but fine. I’m a law-abiding citizen just like the next person, so I’m not going to start building those floors without permission.”

“That’s good to know,” said Charlene. She’d accepted her boyfriend’s mother’s invitation wondering what the old lady could possibly have to talk to her about, and now she was starting to regret having come out here to the Riviera Country Club already.

“So I’m going to ask you straight out: are you going to give me permission to build those extra floors and make my family some extra money or not? It’s a simple question.”

“No, I’m not going to do that,” said Charlene curtly. “And for a good reason.”

“I don’t want to know about your reasons,” said Vesta, holding up her hand.

“You don’t?”

“No, cause like I said, I’m here to make you an offer. I’m going to give you ten thousand dollars, cash in hand, if you give me that permit.”

Charlene stared at the old woman.“For your sake as well as mine I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear what you just said, Vesta.”

“Okay, so how about twenty?”

“Vesta Muffin!”

“Thirty thousand smackeroos and that’s my final offer!”

“You have got to be kidding me,” said Charlene, shaking her head and starting to walk back to the club house.

“You drive a hard bargain, lady!” Vesta called after her. “Thirty-five thousand!”

“You’re out of your mind!”

“Forty! I can’t go any higher than that or my daughter will kill me, and so will my son-in-law!”

“I suggest you save your money—and your breath!”

She took out her phone and dialed the number at the top of the list. Alec picked up on the first ring.“Alec, do you know what your mother just did?”

Her boyfriend heaved a sigh that seemed to come from very deep.“Do I? Do I really?”

“She just tried to bribe me into giving her permission to erect a couple of extra floors on top of her house.”

“She did what?”

“She offered me forty thousand in cash!”

“She’s nuts—did you tell her she’s nuts?”

“I told her she should shut up, but she kept on going, raising the offer from ten thousand to forty thousand.”

“Fifty thousand!” suddenly a voice sounded in Charlene’s rear, and when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that Vesta was chasing her, golf club in hand!

“She’s chasing me, Alec, and she’s got a weapon!” Charlene cried, and started running—running for her life!

“Come back here!” Vesta yelled. “I’m not done with you!”

“But I’m done with you!” Charlene bellowed.

And so it was that the people enjoying a drink in the outdoor bar witnessed a strange scene that day: the Mayor of Hampton Cove, being chased around the fairway by a little old lady waving a golf club and screaming a choice series of profanities at her.

About twenty minutes into this rare and highly entertaining spectacle, a police car arrived, and a large chief of police crawled out, then commandeered a golf cart and started steering it in the direction of the little old lady and started chasing her. The little old lady abruptly changed course, and for the next few minutes the chase was reversed: now the Mayor, who’d hopped onto the golf cart, was chasing the old lady, who kept up a nice lead, which was remarkable at her age. She was still waving the golf club, though, and still making disparaging remarks at the twosome who were now giving chase.

Moments later they finally caught up with her. The old lady gave the golf cart a serious whack across the front, and consequently the police chief wrested the club from her hands and managed to overpower her and place her in the golf cart. And as the gobsmacked audience watched on, the old lady was duly placed under arrest and unceremoniously bundled into the police car.

“Show is over, folks!” Madam Mayor shouted, waving her hands. “Nothing to see!”

And then Charlene Butterwick got into the police car, next to her boyfriend Alec Lip, and moments later the police car took off with screaming siren and flashing blue light.

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“What were you thinking, offering the Mayor a bribe!” Alec shouted at his aged mother, who was seated in the same spot where only an hour before his niece had sat.

“I was thinking she was a reasonable woman, but clearly she’s not. And for your information, I wasn’t bribing her, I was merely offering her a business proposition.”

“A business proposition? You realize what you did, don’t you? You offered money to the Mayor in exchange for a building permit. Are you out of your mind?”

“She’s the one that’s out of her mind. She turned me down, can you believe that? Who turns down fifty thousand smackers?”

“Charlene does, that’s who, and I commend her for it. Besides, what do you need a building permit for? I don’t get it.”

“I want to build extra floors, just a couple—is that so wrong?”

“It’s wrong when the people who own the house have clearly told you that they don’t want these extra floors.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about them. They’ll come around when they realize what a perfect business opportunity I got for them.”

“Oh, Ma,” said Alec, shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Help me to convince that stubborn girlfriend of yours to take my money!”

“And what’s this I hear about you crashing Marge’s car last night?”

“That was nothing,” said Vesta, suddenly remarkably subdued.

“Is it true that you purposelessly ran your car into Wilbur Vickery’s car?”

“I thought he was a Hampton Heister.”

“You thought what?”

“He was acting suspicious, all right!”

“Oh, Ma.”

“Wilbur and Francis think they can start a neighborhood watch—just like that!”

Alec stared at his mother.“Wilbur and Francis Reilly are starting a neighborhood watch?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, dear Lord. Just what I need. Another couple of loonies running amok in my town.”

“This isn’t just your town, Alec,” his mother reminded him. “This is my town, too, and I have every right to run amok if I want to. I mean… Well, I don’t know what I mean, but the point I’m trying to make is that if you don’t tell Wilbur and Francis that this town isn’t big enoughfor the both of us, then I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”

“What consequences?”

“You’ll see.”

“Ma!”

“Alec!”

They both sat there staring each other down for a few moments, then Vesta softened and touched her son’s cheek. “Look, it’s a good thing that you’re dating Charlene. In fact it’s probably the best decision you ever made. I have no idea what she sees in you…”

“Ma…”

“But the least she can do for her boyfriend’s mother is to give her this permit. Is that so much to ask?”

Alec uttered a strangled sound, then abruptly got up and said,“You better get out of here…”

“And about time, too. I’ve got better things to do than to sit here talking to you.”

“… before I strangle you with my bare hands. Now go and if I hear one more word about this permit business—”

“But, Alec!”

“One more word! I swear to God, Ma!”

“What good is it to have a son who’s chief of police and a daughter-in-law who’s the mayor, if they won’t do an old woman a teensy weensy little favor!”

“Out of my sight! Now!”

And thus ended the strange incident of the attempted bribe. Charlene decided not to pursue the matter, and neither did Alec. Frankly it wouldn’t have looked good for either of them to put the Chief’s mother and the Mayor’s future mother-in-law in jail… again!

21

We decided to pay a visit to Kingman, hoping he could shed some light on some of the recent happenings in town. The voluminous cat was lounging on the doorstep of his owner’s General Store, busily chatting up a couple of feline females and being his usual garrulous and avuncular self. By the time we joined him, the two females had left, and Kingman had a hard time focusing on us and not on their retreating rear ends as they sashayed down the street.

“So Kingman,” I said. “We need to talk.”

“Mh?” he said.

“Kingman!” I said, and the big cat practically jumped to attention, insofar as a cat as large as Kingman can actually jump.

“Oh, hey, Max—Dooley. How’s things in dog world?” He grinned at his own little joke, which I didn’t think was even remotely funny, to be honest.

“Things in dog world are fine, as far as I know. But since I’m not a dog, I really have no idea,” I said curtly. “So what was the big idea expelling Harriet and Brutus last night?”

“Yes, that wasn’t a nice thing to do, Kingman,” said Dooley.

“Look, it wasn’t my decision, okay? It was Shanille’s. I just backed her up.”

“But why? Harriet has been an indispensable member of cat choir since its inception, and Brutus has been one of our most valued members. And now all of a sudden they’re not welcome anymore? What’s up with that?”

“It’s out of my paws, Max,” he said with a shrug. “They did this to themselves when they decided to run with the dogs. It’s still cat choir, not dog choir. Dogs aren’t welcome.”

“Brutus is not a dog,” I said, “and as far as I’m concerned he’ll never be a dog, whatever he says. He’s moderately confused right now, but I can assure you that this is a phase. A phase that will pass.”

“I’m not so sure about that. He’s pretty determined about turning himself into a dog.”

“Listen to yourself, Kingman! How can a cat possibly turn himself into a dog? It can’t be done!”

“Well, he’s doing it, and as far as I’m concerned he’s out, and so is Harriet if she insists on standing by her dog.”

“Brutus does seem pretty serious about wanting to become a dog, Max,” said Dooley. “Just this morning I saw him play fetch again with Ted, and he’s getting better at catching that ball. And now they’ve even graduated to playing fetch with a stick. And even though he can’t jump as high as Rufus, he can still jump pretty high.”

I closed my eyes. This was a nightmare. My entire life was going to the dogs!

“Is it true that your human was arrested this morning?” asked Kingman with a frown.

“Odelia wasn’t arrested,” I said. “She was invited in for questioning, and her explanation satisfied Uncle Alec to such an extent that there will be no further consequences. She is innocent—of course she is.”

“Well, from what I’m hearing your family is in some real trouble, Max. First Brutus and Harriet deciding to turn themselves into dogs—a cat’s natural enemy—then Odelia getting arrested for that attack on Carl Strauss, and your Grandma Muffin trying to bribe Mayor Butterwick with large andfrankly outrageous sums of money. It’s enough to look into your personal status as a member of cat choir.”

I stared at the cat.“You want to expel me, too?”

“I think you dropped the ball, Max.”

“Not funny, Kingman.”

“You know how it is. If you don’t keep your eye on that ball…”

“Still not funny!”

“Look, Shanille is looking into things. You see, cat choir has a reputation to uphold. We can’t have cats that drag us down through an association with humans of ill repute.”

“My humans are beyond reproach, Kingman. Well beyond reproach!”

“Vesta has always been a source of trouble, and if she continues to go down this road, you shouldn’t be surprised that there are going to be consequences is all I’m saying.”

“But Kingman—I’m not my humans’ keeper!”

“You should be,” he said. “Just like I’m my human’s keeper. If Wilbur tries any funny business, I make it my business to make sure he gets back on the straight and narrow. It’s the sacred oath all cats swear when they decide to adopt a human.”

This was simply too much. Wilbur’s behavior often gave rise to a lot of questions, and I’d never even once known Kingman to interfere in the man’s outrageous behavior.

“I don’t think Gran will listen to us, Kingman,” said Dooley. “She doesn’t even listen to her own family.”

“Well, she should. Actions have consequences, and before she does anything rash she should consider those consequences.”

I frowned at the big cat.“All this wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Gran had some kind of altercation with Wilbur last night, would it?”

“Oh, no, absolutely not,” Kingman was quick to assure me.

But just then, Wilbur caught sight of Dooley and myself, and came stomping out of his store, swinging his fists and looking extremely annoyed.“Oh, no, you don’t!” he yelled. “You can’t come in here and spy on me, you two!”

He picked up a tomato, and made to throw it in my direction. But then he seemed to think better of it and put it down again. After all, a tomato is a sellable item and why waste good money? So instead he picked up a pebble, and aimed that at me!

“Hey!” I said. “Are you kidding me right now?”

Luckily Wilbur has terrible aim, and the pebble zipped right over my head.

“Get lost, you two!” Wilbur screamed. “Go away and never come back!”

“Kingman, restrain your human!” I said, remembering Kingman’s words about cats being responsible for their humans. “Tell him to cease and desist!”

“Sorry, Max,” said Kingman. “But the ball is in your court now.”

And since Wilbur was already picking up another pebble, bigger than the last, I decided things were definitely getting a little too hot here, and so we skedaddled.

“I won’t forget this, Kingman!” I yelled.

“I’m sorry, Max!” he yelled back. “If you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas!”

And as we put some distance between ourselves and Kingman’s berserk human, Dooley asked, “What did Kingman mean, Max?”

“It’s an expression,” I explained, still greatly perturbed by the blatant betrayal of our friend. “It means that if you get involved with a bad person you suffer the consequences.”

“And who’s the bad person?”

“I suppose he means Gran, and Odelia, too, probably.”

“Odelia? But Odelia isn’t a bad person, Max.”

“I know she isn’t, but you know the kind of gossipmonger Kingman is. He heard something about Odelia getting questioned, and he’s turned it into a story about her being arrested for the attack on Carl.”

“Odelia arrested!”

“She wasn’t, all right?” I said, perhaps a little more curtly than I intended. “Odelia was simply asked to explain why her fingerprints were on the golf club used as a weapon to hit Carl Strauss over the head with. Unfortunately she couldn’t explain, but that doesn’t mean she’s guiltyof attacking the man. Odelia would never do a thing like that.”

“Oh, I know she wouldn’t. Odelia isn’t capable of such an act of violence. She’s the nicest, sweetest person on the planet. In fact I think she must be some kind of saint.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” I said, glancing back and noticing how Wilbur was still staring after us. And then I noticed something else: the same person who’d been filming us at the dog park was filming us now: a round-faced individual of considerable proportions was holding up his smartphone and following us at a couple of paces distance, filming our every move. “There he is again,” I told Dooley, as my friend, too, turned around. We both sat staring at the man, as he brazenly stood there filming us!

“And he’s filming us again.”

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” I asked.

“You can’t film us,” Dooley added. “Not without talking to our Hollywood agent!”

But of course the man didn’t understand a word we said. He probably just thought it was funny to see two cats meowing up a storm like this.

“Get lost, you,” I said, and when he didn’t budge, I walked up to him, hoping to exude menace. And when that didn’t do the trick, I hissed at the guy, and extended the old claw.

“So cute,” he said, and mustn’t have realized I meant business, for he just kept on filming, the horrible wannabe director! “So where’s your human, kitty cat?” he asked. “Where is Odelia? Shouldn’t you help her write her stories, mh?”

I frowned at the guy.“What are you talking about?”

“You are her cat spy, aren’t you? So what are you doing out here, wasting time with other cats? Or is that part of your MO? You interact with other cats of the neighborhood, gathering information, and then deliver it to Odelia? Is that how this works?”

“Oh, will you get lost already?” I said, borrowing Wilbur’s words, and walked off.

“What does he want, Max?” asked Dooley.

“He seems to know about us,” I said as I glanced over my shoulder. The guy was still filming, but at least he’d stopped pursuing us.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure, but he seems to know that we spy around for Odelia, and give her the information we collect.”

“But how? How would he know about that?”

“You know, Dooley, the longer I live in this town, the more I start to realize that nothing is sacred, and nothing is secret. Everybody seems to be all over everybody else’s business, and frankly it’s starting to annoy me.”

“Maybe he’s one of Carl Strauss’s sex maniac friends,” Dooley suggested. “And he thinks Odelia attacked his friend and now he’s trying to find out more about her.”

“I very much doubt whether Carl has any sex maniac friends, Dooley,” I said with a smile.

“Oh, but if he’s a sex maniac, he must have gone to sex maniac meetings, like the anonymous alcoholics, and he must have had a buddy, like the anonymous alcoholics always have a buddy they can call when they want a drink. So maybe this guy is Carl’s buddy from his sex maniacs anonymous group,and he’s trying to help his friend.”

“It’s possible,” I said. “I’m definitely going to report this to Odelia. If there’s a guy going around filming us and asking a lot of questions, she needs to know about it.”

22

Odelia was in her office putting the final touches to her article about her visit to the hospital that morning, where Carl Strauss was still laid up after the breakin. Ellie was sitting next to her, watching as she wrote, which felt a little weird to Odelia, as she’d never allowed anyone to look over her shoulder as she typed up her articles before.

“You type so fast,” said Ellie admiringly. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to type as fast as you.”

“It’s practice. You just need to practice a lot and you’ll get better at it—and faster.”

“I still type with two fingers,” said Ellie with an eyeroll, “so I have a lot of practicing to do before I’ll ever be as good as you.”

“Why don’t you write your version of the story?” Odelia now suggested. “And maybe we can add it to mine—sort of like a second perspective?”

Ellie’s eyes went wide. “You want me to write an article for the Gazette?”

“Well, not a whole article, more like a short piece. We could print it next to mine.”

“Oh, this is so great,” said Ellie. She was beaming. “When do you need it?”

“Before tonight. Let’s say… three hundred words?”

“You got it,” said Ellie, and got up to start work on her first article for the Gazette.

The door to the office suddenly flew open, and a woman walked in.“Odelia Poole? My daughter’s been arrested and you’re responsible.” She didn’t look happy, not happy at all.

“Who is your daughter, Mrs…”

“Hudson. Jacqueline Hudson. My daughter’s name is Emma, and she was arrested last night because of your doing!” She was pointing an irate finger in Odelia’s direction.

Immediately Ellie got up and said,“Hey, you can’t just barge in here and start accusing Odelia of all kinds of things.”

“But she did—she got my Emma arrested last night, and now she’s in jail, and they’re accusing her of attempted murder!”

“Look, your daughter was caught breaking into Carl Strauss’s home last night,” said Odelia, also getting up. “And she’s already confessed to being a member of the Hampton Heisters, who are suspected of at least half a dozen other breakins. So Emma is not innocent in all of this, Mrs. Hudson.”

Suddenly the woman sank down onto a chair and burst into tears, burying her face in her hands.“I know,” she said between sobs. “And I don’t get it. She never used to be like this. Emma was an A-level student. We already had a college picked out for her, and now this.”

“You didn’t know she was breaking into people’s homes?” asked Odelia.

“No, of course I didn’t! If I’d known do you think I wouldn’t have tried to stop her?”

“Your daughter is refusing to tell the police what they want to know,” said Odelia. “Is that your doing? Did you advise her not to cooperate with the authorities?”

“No, I most certainly did not. Look, she doesn’t want to talk to us, and her father and I are frantic with worry. First this whole breakin thing, and now she’s being accused of attempted murder? I just don’t understand!”

“Emma is part of a gang of burglars,” Odelia explained. “The Hampton Heisters, as they’ve been dubbed. They only target the rich and famous, and always take a lot of memorabilia, apart from the valuables and the money that they steal.”

“I know. I read the papers. I know what she’s being accused of. I’m just telling you this is not like her. Emma is a good girl. All I can think is that she must have gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd somehow.”

“Emma chose to be involved with this gang, Mrs. Hudson,” said Ellie. “She chose to participate in these high-profile burglaries, so it’s not as if she simply tagged along.”

“Who are you?” asked Mrs. Hudson, giving Ellie a not-so-friendly look.

“Ellie is my… intern,” said Odelia.

“Well, I suggest before you start casting aspersions on people you first check your facts,” said Emma’s mother. “Because I know for a fact that this is nothing like my daughter. And I also know for a fact that she would never raise a hand against anyone. So whatever the police are saying, she can’t possibly be involved with this—no way.”

“She was caught red-handed,” Ellie pointed out, also getting a little worked up. “Odelia caught her personally breaking into Carl Strauss’s house last night.”

“How is Carl?” asked Mrs. Hudson. “Is he going to be all right?”

“He’s still in a coma,” said Odelia. “We went to see him this morning and the doctors have no idea when he might come out of it.”

“Or even if he’ll come out of it,” Ellie added.

“This is a nightmare,” said Mrs. Hudson. She then directed a pleading look at Odelia. “Can’t you put in a good word for Emma? You saw her, you met her. You must have seen that she’s not like these other people she got mixed up with.”

“She did strike me as a highly intelligent young woman,” Odelia admitted. “But I think she also realizes that she made a big mistake.”

“I know,” said Mrs. Hudson ruefully. “Please talk to the police, Miss Poole. I know you have a lot of pull with them. Tell them that Emma is not a violent person. She just got swept along with these Hampton Heisters people and somehow things got out of hand.”

In spite of herself, Odelia felt sorry for the woman. It wasn’t easy for her to watch her daughter languish in the police lockup. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said therefore, earning herself a frown from Ellie, who clearly wasn’t as taken in with Mrs. Hudson as she was. “But if you get the chance to talk to your daughter, you need to tell her togive us the names of the other members of the gang. It would create a lot of goodwill for her, and the judge will be more lenient with her as well. I think it would make a big difference.”

“If she agrees to see us, I’ll tell her,” said Mrs. Hudson, already a lot more subdued than she had been when she first barged her way into the office yelling accusations.

“Just tell Emma to cooperate, Mrs. Hudson,” Ellie advised. “That’s the best thing you can do for her right now. Simply tell her to cooperate with the police as much as she can.”

Mrs. Hudson nodded and got up.“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for the advice.”

Once she’d left, Ellie said, “How could you promise to help her? She’s clearly guilty.”

“Even guilty people have rights, Ellie. And I think Mrs. Hudson just might be right in that her daughter got mixed up in something that simply snowballed out of control.”

“I think she knew exactly what she was doing. And it wouldn’t surprise me if she took a swing at Carl, too.”

“I guess the police will have to decide what happened.”

“I thought they always listened to you?”

Odelia smiled.“Not always.”

Her phone rang out a pleasant tune and she saw that Charlene Butterwick was trying to get in touch with her.“Hey, Charlene,” she said.

“Odelia, you really have to do something about your grandmother,” said Charlene.

Oh, dear.“What did she do this time?”

“She tried to bribe me!”

“She did what?”

“Offered me money in exchange for a building permit. Fifty thousand dollars if I would allow her to build an extra few stories on top of the house. I told her what she was doing was illegal, but she insisted!”

“I’m sorry, Charlene. You know Gran. She’s a little…”

“Nuts!”

“… eccentric.”

“Your uncle’s already had a strongly worded talk with her, but I was hoping you could have a conversation with her, too. I know she respects you and listens to you.”

“Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn’t. Gran has a mind of her own, and oftentimes she doesn’t listen to anyone.”

“Well, I just hope you’ll be able to impress it upon her that this kind of behavior simply will not stand. Imagine if people find out about this. And they discover that I didn’t press charges. Can you imagine the damage this will do to my reputation?”

“I know, and I’m sorry, Charlene. And I will talk to her, I promise.”

After she’d hung up, and seeing Ellie’s questioning look, she shrugged and said, “Family stuff. Nothing to worry about.”

Ellie chuckled.“Trust me, I know all about family stuff.”

The door opened and Max and Dooley walked in, looking a little perturbed. Unfortunately she couldn’t talk to her cats now that Ellie was in the room with them, but that didn’t mean her cats couldn’t talk to her. And they did—very vociferously, too!

“Odelia, Wilbur just chased us away from the General Store,” said Max, “because he and Gran got into some kind of argument last night, and Gran hit his car with her car, and now he doesn’t want us near the store again.”

“He called us spies,” said Dooley. “Spies for Gran.”

“And also, a man has been spying on us and filming us. He’s a big man, young, and seems to know a lot about us, and also about you—he knew that we’re your emissaries and how we collect bits of news for you and everything!”

“He’s Carl Strauss’s sex maniac buddy,” Dooley announced, quite surprisingly. “He’s probably upset with you because he thinks that you attacked his sex maniac friend last night, and now he wants to find out more about you.”

Never before had Odelia felt so hamstrung by the presence of another person in the room. She wanted to ask Max and Dooley about a million questions, but just had to sit there and play dumb!

“I’m going to get some coffee,” said Ellie. “Do you want something?”

“You know what? Could you maybe run down to the bakery and get me a couple of donuts? I suddenly have this incredible craving for donuts.”

Ellie grinned.“You really have that cop DNA, don’t you? Sure, I’ll get you some donuts.”

The moment the girl had left, Odelia burst out,“What’s all this about a sex maniac guy stalking you and filming you? And what in the name of all that is holy has gotten into Wilbur all of a sudden?”

And before long, and in as few words as possible, Max and Dooley recounted to her the events that had transpired that morning. And before Ellie returned carrying a bag of glazed donuts with sprinkles, Odelia’s life had been made a little more complicated still.

23

We’d arrived home after an eventful day spent in town, and were pleased to find that we had the house to ourselves. And so after having eaten our fill, both in crunchy kibble and what was left over from the pouches of soft food Odelia or her mom or grandma like to dole out to us in the evening, we decided to go and sit outside for a while and enjoy those last rays of sunshine of the day. And I was just about to head out when I saw through the window that Ted was taking his dogs for a walk again—and this naturally included Brutus and Harriet, who were now part and parcel of his canine family.

Harriet looked distinctly unhappy, but Brutus was manfully persistent and pranced along in Rufus’s wake.

“Poor Harriet,” said Dooley. “Maybe we should ask her to leave Brutus and come back to us?”

I also felt sorry for the Persian. Slowly but inexorably all the things she loved were taken away from her: she couldn’t sing the soprano parts in cat choir anymore, and she couldn’t even eat her favorite cat food any longer.

Rufus must have seen us glancing out at them through the window, for he gave us a little wave. Oddly enough there was a slight sense of frustration in his eyes, too, if I read his expression well, which I think I did.

“Rufus doesn’t look very happy either,” I remarked therefore.

“I saw him this morning. He complained that Harriet has been hounding him.”

“Hounding him?” I asked with a laugh. “How can a cat hound a dog?”

“I don’t know but that’s what he said. He didn’t have a lot of time to talk, because he had to join Marcie for his morning walk.”

“Odd,” I said, but then shrugged it off.

We walked out just when Odelia and Chase arrived home, and they seemed to have decided to follow our example, for they also joined us outside, only whereas we stretched out on the smooth lawn, enjoying the cool feel of the grass tickling our bellies, our humans stretched out on the lawn chairs, a cooling glass of some fruity liquid in hand, complete with straws and all.

“So I talked to the people at Spindler,” said Chase, “and they claim that Carl was one of their best customers.”

“Oh, the dating app people?” said Odelia.

“They say that Carl spent so much time on their app that in short order he’d become their number one customer.”

“And Zoe?”

“No dice, I’m afraid. Whoever Zoe is, they have no idea.”

“But she is on Spindler.”

“Oh, sure, but they take the privacy of their customers very seriously. Anyone can set up a profile with them. And there’s no way to know who’s behind the profile.”

“So Zoe could literally be anyone.”

“Pretty much.”

“Too bad. If she was there last night, she’s either a witness or a suspect.”

“As far as we can tell, the attack on Carl happened just before you arrived, so our main suspect is still Emma Hudson,” said Chase.

“I thought I was your main suspect?”

“You were never a suspect, babe. But the fact that your fingerprints are on that club needs to be explained away somehow. You’re absolutely sure you didn’t touch it?”

“Absolutely sure,” she confirmed.

“Then it remains a mystery,” said Chase with a frown as he took a sip from his glass. “So let’s go over this one more time. Emma Hudson had opportunity, means and motive, but frankly I don’t like her for this. I have a feeling she’s covering for the real culprit.”

“Another member of the Hampton Heisters,” said Odelia, nodding. “I have the same impression.”

“And then of course there’s Erica Barn. She most definitely had motive, and she could easily have dropped by the house—she knew the way—gotten into an argument with her soon-to-be ex-husband and knocked him out when his back was turned.”

“Could be,” Odelia allowed.

“But did she?”

“That is the big question.”

They were both silent for a moment, as they contemplated this, then Odelia said,“Some guy was filming Max and Dooley today. Following them around everywhere.”

“A stalker?”

“Looks like. He was even telling them how they’re spies for me, and how they go around collecting information all over town and delivering it to me.”

“That’s worrying. What did he look like?”

“Chubby round-faced individual. Red ball cap on his head. Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Exactly right,” I told her from my position on the lawn. “He was very brazen about it, too. Kept shoving that phone into our faces and wouldn’t stop filming, even after I brought out the old claws.”

“Max threatened him with his claws,” Odelia translated, “and he still wouldn’t stop filming.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” suddenly Chase burst out, then got up in a fluid motion, and bellowed, “Hey, you!”

“Oh, hi,” said the individual he was addressing. And lo and behold: it was our stalker! This time he was hiding in the bushes nearby, filming our entire conversation!

“What the hell!” Chase cried as he joined the stalker with three long-legged strides, then took him by the collar and pretty much dragged him out of those bushes.

“Owowow!” the stalker cried. “Don’t hurt me, officer!”

“So you know I’m a cop. What else do you know?”

The guy grinned.“I know that your wife can talk to cats, and that her cats can talk to her, that’s what I know. And I’ve got it all on my phone. And this is going to make for one very interesting vlog!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Chase as he tightened his grip on the guy.

“Hey, do you want me to file a complaint about police brutality, dude? Let go of me!”

But Chase didn’t let go. Instead he squeezed a little harder. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot do to a person I caught trespassing in my backyard,” Chase growled, dragging the man’s face close to his. “Who are you and what the hell are you up to?”

“My name is Frank Beaver and I run Beaver’s Cleaver, only the most incisive and popular vlog in Hampton Cove.”

“If you’re so popular, why is it I’ve never heard of you?”

“Yet. You haven’t heard of me yet. But once I post this particular vlog, I’ll be famous—world famous, in fact!”

“You’re not going to post any vlogs,” said Chase. “What you are going to do is apologize to my wife, and then you’re going to hand me your phone and I’m going to delete what you just filmed.”

“That won’t do you any good,” said the guy.

“And why is that?”

“Because all of my vlogs are automatically synced to the cloud.”

“Then I’m going to ask you to delete your stuff in the cloud.”

“No way, dude.”

Chase now lifted the guy up from the ground, his feet kicking the air like in a Hanna-Barbera cartoon, and brought him nose to nose with him.“I’m not asking, ‘dude.’ I’m telling you: delete all of your stuff. Now.”

“Or what? You’re going to hit me? That’ll make another great vlog: local cop charged with police brutality.”

“You’re still trespassing,” said Chase. “And I’m not just a cop, I’m also a private citizen. And I don’t like it when people come into my backyard and start filming my wife!”

“Look, this is a story that’s just too good to ignore,” said the guy. “Local reporter who gets all of her clues and her stories from her cats? That’s just great, dude!”

“You’re going to forget you ever laid eyes on my wife, or her cats, and you’re going to get out of here and crawl back into your cave, or your mom’s basement, cause if you don’t…”

The guy grinned.“I know my rights. You can’t make me do anything.”

Chase looked over to Odelia, who nodded. Reluctantly, Chase returned the vlogger to terra firma. Immediately the guy held out his hand.“Give me back my phone,” he said.

“Where did you get the idea to follow me and my cats around?” asked Odelia.

“An anonymous tip.”

“I’m going to hang on to your phone for now,” said Chase.

“Suit yourself. Like I said, I’ve got the whole thing locked in the cloud, ready to upload to my YouTube channel at a moment’s notice. Well, after I do some minor editing, that is.”

“You’re not seriously considering posting this stuff, are you?” asked Odelia.

“Oh, absolutely. Story like this? It’s going to go viral, dude.”

“It’s also going to make my life very difficult,” Odelia pointed out.

Frank Beaver shrugged. Clearly he wasn’t too concerned about that.

“Don’t post it, okay?” said Odelia.

“I won’t post it if you promise to give me an exclusive interview and explain to my viewers how you manage to talk to your cats. And I want to interview your cats, too, with you supplying the translation.”

“That is never going to happen,” said Chase.

“Then I’m very sorry,” said the vlogger.

“You can’t do this,” Odelia said.

“Look on the bright side: you’ll soon be America’s most famous small-town reporter.”

And as the guy walked away, giving me and Dooley two thumbs up, he had a big grin on his face the Cheshire cat would have been proud of.

24

Rufus was taking a well-deserved nap after just having gone for a walk with his human and his two new feline friends, when the hair at the back of his neck suddenly stood up, a clear sign someone was watching him. And when he opened one eye, he saw that his neck hairs hadn’t been mistaken: Harriet was staring straight at him, not looking like a new feline friend should.

“Rufus!” she cried. “Are you kidding?”

“Um… no?” he said tentatively. It was one of those questions it’s very hard to give the right answer to, he’d discovered, as it was a question Harriet liked to use a lot, and he still had to find an appropriate response.

“What were you thinking!”

“Um… I was thinking of my ball, actually,” he confessed. He often thought of his ball, now more than ever, since Brutus had gotten it into his head to try and catch it as much as he possibly could, which meant there was less playtime for Rufus, unfortunately.

“Smoochie poo, just leave Rufus alone,” said Brutus.

“No, I’m not going to leave Rufus alone,” said Harriet decidedly. “He has to learn that there are consequences to his actions.”

“What consequences? What actions?” asked Rufus, absolutely unaware of what he could possibly have done to deserve this harsh rebuke.

They were in the backyard, with Rufus lying in his usual spot on the paved stone that he considered his personal paved stone. It was nicely heated up by the sun, and had a good view of the backyard and those tweeting birds dipping into the fountain Ted had recently placed there. And of course his ball was nearby, just in case Ted decided to come out of the house and play around with it for a while—always a possibility.

“You stole my spot!” said Harriet.

“What spot?” asked Rufus, mystified.

“That spot you’re lying in—that’s my spot!”

“But…”

“I picked that spot and now you stole it. Get up!”

“But I don’t want to get up,” he said.

“Get up right now!”

And since Rufus was basically an easygoing dog, he did as he was told. All those Saturday mornings spent at the obedience school had drilled it into him that he had to listen to the voice of authority, and if there was any voice that was authoritative, it most definitely was Harriet’s.

“Thank you,” said Harriet. “Now move.” He moved, and Harriet lay down in the spot he’d just vacated. “I like this spot,” she said. “It’s the spot I chose for myself, and so from now on you will never steal this spot away from me, is that understood, Rufus?”

“Yes, Harriet.”

“Good. And one more thing. Did you eat your entire bowl?”

“I did.” He always ate his entire bowl. That was the point of having a bowl: you ate it all until it was empty, and then Ted or Marcie filled it up again. It was the circle of life.

“You can’t do that,” said Harriet.

“I can’t?”

“No, of course you can’t! You have to learn how to share, Rufus. Now I know you’re not used to sharing, at least not like me and Brutus, but if we’re going to live together you need to learn this very important part of living together with two other… dogs.”

Rufus narrowed his eyes. He still found it a little hard to accept that Harriet and Brutus were dogs now. They looked like cats, they behaved like cats, and so in his view they were cats. But apparently that was no longer the case.

“So from now on you’re going to leave half of your bowl uneaten, and Brutus and I are going to take turns eating what remains. That way we all get equal nourishment.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, because he didn’t.

Harriet sighed an exaggerated sigh.“Look, for some reason the Trappers have gotten it into their nuts that just because Brutus and I are new that we have to have the smaller bowls.”

“Oh, right,” said Rufus. He had noticed how Harriet’s bowl and Brutus’s bowl were much smaller than his, but had naturally assumed that this was because they were also much smaller animals. He was easily five times Brutus’s size, so he probably needed five times the amount of food he got.

“It’s not fair. You know it, I know it, and Brutus knows it. But unfortunately it’s very hard for us to explain to Ted and Marcie. So for now, and until I can get Gran or Marge or Odelia to talk to Ted and Marcie, you’re going to share your kibble with us. Is that clear?”

“Um…”

“Do I make myself clear?!”

“Yes—Yes, Harriet, it’s very clear!” he hurried to say. About as clear as mud.

Half an hour later, when Harriet and Brutus had left to go traipsing about unleashed, as they liked to do—proving once more that they were, in fact, cats and not dogs—Rufus saw that another cat had joined him. It was none other than Max, and he was looking at him through the hole in the fence.

“Hey, buddy,” said Max. “How are you holding up?”

“Not well, Max,” he admitted. “Harriet wants to eat from my bowl, and she’s also taken over my favorite spot. And Brutus has taken over my ball and he’s now playing with Ted all the time, seriously cutting into my playtime.” He sighed deeply. “How did you live with these cats all thistime and not go stark-raving mad?”

Max laughed at this.“I guess it takes some getting used to. But in time I’m sure you’ll reach some kind of entente and you’ll find that Harriet and Brutus are great friends.”

“But Harriet is horrible, Max! She drives me crazy!”

“She probably needs a little time to settle in.”

“Can’t you please get rid of her for me? Can’t you convince your humans to take her back? I had a good life, and now it’s completely ruined. And besides, she’s not a dog, and Brutus is not a dog, and still they both insist that they’re dogs now. But they’re not!”

“Brutus is having a difficult time,” said Max, “but I’m sure it will soon blow over, and then he’ll understand that his old life wasn’t as bad as all that.”

Hope surged in the big sheepdog’s bosom. “So you think this is all just a temporary thing? That things will soon go back to normal?”

“I’m not sure, Rufus, but I certainly hope so.” He gestured to the Pooles’ house, or what was left of it, and where now builders were busy creating a brand-new structure on the ruins of the old foundations. “Brutus and Harriet lost their home, you see, and I think it messed with their minds a little—especially Brutus. Once the house is ready I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to come home again.”

“And how long is that going to take?”

“Oh, about three months or so?”

“Three months! Max, you have to do something. I can’t take three months of this!”