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Purrfect Advice. Purrfect Passion. A Purrfect Gnomeful

The Mysteries of Max Mysteries of Max Box Set 8

Nic Saint

Puss in Print Publications

Contents

The Mysteries of Max Box Set 8

Purrfect Advice

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Epilogue

Purrfect Passion

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Epilogue

A Purrfect Gnomeful

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Epilogue

Excerpt from Purrfect Cover (The Mysteries of Max 25)

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The Mysteries of Max Box Set 8

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Purrfect Advice (The Mysteries of Max 22)

When the Hampton Cove Gazette announced it had recruited a new advice columnist, little did I expect how this decision would impact not only my life but that of everyone in Hampton Cove. Dear Gabi was soon dispensing advice left, right and center, and creating quite the hullaballoo. And when the Gazette added a feline columnist to the roster, even pets started sending in their questions, mostly centering around their love lives and similar nauseating queries.

Soon even Dooley and myself were writing to Dear Chloe, as our pet agony aunt was called, and getting some unusual advice in return. And of course in the middle of all this a murder took place at the home of Allison Gray, who’d been the Gazette’s very first Gabi, all those many years ago. An all-star team of sleuths assembled, consisting of Odelia and Chase, but also of Grandma Muffin and… Scarlett Canyon. Gran and Scarlett even ran point, for the first time in years ceasing hostilities and calling a truce in order to catch the killer of Kirk Weaver, the well-known cat whisperer.

Dooley and I joined the investigation, though we had problems of our own to deal with in the form of yet another mouse infestation ravaging our home. Odelia had told us to ‘deal with it’ and so deal with it we did. Though I had the distinct impression my beloved human had something else in mind when we presented her with our most original solution. Between solving the murder of a cat whisperer, handling a murine invasion, and Dear Gabi and Dear Chloe upending our lives, I think it’s safe to say this was yet another eventful week in the life of your loyal correspondent.

PS: did I mention wedding bells might soon ring out? If you ask me it’s all this Dear Gabi stuff. Gives people the wrong idea. But then who am I? Just your average big-boned blorange fellow feline citizen and sometime cat sleuth.

Purrfect Passion (The Mysteries of Max 23)

There comes a time in every cat’s life when he feels he’s got it made. And it may surprise you that I was just such a cat. I had my sweet spot on the couch, I had my daily dose of kibble, I had my health, friends and the best human a cat can find. In other words: bliss. And of course that’s when tragedy struck in the form of Passion Island. The reality show didn’t just upset our lives by its sheer popularity, finding amongst its most avid fans the entire Poole family and its cats (minus myself, of course), but also because five of its contestants, all women, had recently gone missing.

So off Odelia went, to Thailand, undercover as one of the show’s contestants, along with Chase. And Odelia wouldn’t be Odelia if she didn’t insist Dooley and I tag along. I wasn’t happy about it, but what could I do? It’s hard to say no to the woman who pays for your kibble and provides a roof over your head. Soon we were up to our eyeballs in seducers and seductresses, mysterious scarfaced men spying on our human, and even a relationship crisis between Odelia and Chase that threatened to derail their upcoming nuptials. Good thing Gran and Scarlett were also there. Or was it?

A Purrfect Gnomeful (The Mysteries of Max 24)

If you really want to know who did it, I can now reveal that it was the mice. They raided the fridge and stole all of my food. Oh, you were wondering about the murders? Well, that’s a different story. It took me a long time to crack that particular case, preoccupied as I was about the family of mice that had turned my house into a mouse-sty. So when Odelia’s boss was accused, not of one but two murders, I ended up playing catch-up from the very start.

As far as I could make out it had something to do with gnomes. Garden gnomes. Gnomes were at the heart of the murder case, but also at the heart of a second mystery: someone was going around Hampton Cove stealing gnomes from unsuspecting citizens’ gardens. Tex Poole had been hit, and so had many other gnome aficionados. Which is when Gran decided to launch our town’s first-ever neighborhood watch, along with her best friend Scarlett Canyon.

You’re confused? Well, so was I. But here’s the good news: if you read my latest chronicles everything will become purr-fectly clear. You’ll find out what happened with the mice. You’ll discover who was behind those gnome thefts, and you’ll get a front-row seat to the stakeout we engaged in as official members of Gran’s neighborhood watch. And while we’re at it, I might as well reveal the identity of the person spreading murder and mayhem in our lovely little town.

Purrfect Advice

The Mysteries of Max - Book 22

Chapter 1

I found Harriet and Brutus on the couch, looking intently at something on Odelia’s tablet computer. At first I simply figured they were watching cat videos again. Only last week Harriet had come up with the bright idea to start her own YouTube channel and post cat videos on a weekly basis. Brutus hadn’t been convinced, and neither had I or Dooley, but that has never stopped Harriet before.

“What are you watching?” I asked as I jumped up on the couch to join them.

“Shush,” said Harriet. “This is it,” she said. “The woman is a marvel. Just what I needed to know.”

“Who is a marvel?” asked Dooley.

“Gabi, of course,” said Harriet, as if Dooley and I were mind readers. “I asked her a question that’s been bothering me for weeks, and she just nailed it. Nailed it!”

I directed a questioning look at Brutus, who merely shrugged, either indicating he had no idea who this mysterious Gabi was either, or he didn’t share his girlfriend’s excitement about the woman’s marvelous and obviously varied qualities.

“Who’s Gabi?” asked Dooley.

“Only the most amazing human being that ever lived,” Harriet gushed as she tapped the tablet with her paw, an adoring expression on her furry face.

“Oh, you mean Odelia,” said Dooley. “I didn’t know she’d changed her name.”

“Not Odelia, dummy,” said Harriet with a laugh. “Though she’s pretty amazing, too.”

I was mystified, and so, I could tell, was Dooley, but before my friend could ask another question, Harriet finally decided to tell all.

“Gabi is the Gazette’s new advice columnist,” she explained. “People ask questions and she answers them,” she added when Dooley opened his mouth to ask ‘What is an advice columnist?’ “For instance, this one was posted just this morning.” She read from the screen. “Dear Gabi. My husband seems to have lost interest in me lately. We’ve been married twenty-eight years and he hasn’t touched me in months. What should I do? Signed, Desperate Debbie. Debbie isn’t her real name,” Harriet added for good measure.

“And what did Gabi advise this Desperate Debbie?” I asked, intrigued.

“Dear Desperate Debbie. After twenty-eight years it’s not unusual to lose that romantic spark. To find it again you need to spice up your love life. Make things exciting again in the bedroom. When was the last time you bought yourself some new lingerie? Or tried a different position? Be bold and let me know what happened!”

“What different position?” asked Dooley. “What does Gabi mean, Max?”

“Um…” I said.

“She’s probably talking about the position of the, um, bed,” said Brutus.

“Oh, you mean rearrange the furniture?” said Dooley. “Yes, I can see how that would be exciting. Though it doesn’t explain the lingerie,” he added with a frown.

I decided to level with my friend. After all, Dooley was old enough to understand certain things now about the world of man. “The thing is, Dooley,” I said, “that when a man and a woman love each other, they express that affection by engaging in certain… activities. It’s called lovemaking, you see?”

“Does this involve kissing?” asked Dooley.

“Yes, it does involve kissing,” I said, much relieved. Once upon a time the task of explaining about the birds and the bees had been assigned to me, and I’m afraid I hadn’t done a very good job. “Lots and lots of kissing. In fact people kiss so much that sometimes this results in babies being born.”

“Oh, I know all about that,” said Dooley lightly. “I watch the Discovery Channel every night and there’s lots of talk about babies. Did you know, for instance, that the common housefly can have up to nine hundred babies in its lifetime?”

“That’s a lot of babies,” I said.

“Though flies don’t usually need lingerie,” he said, his frown returning. “Unless I missed something. Gran switches channels when there’s too many commercial breaks.”

“Well, humans do like lingerie,” I said. “You see, the human male and the human female, when they make love… um…” I cast about for an explanation that wouldn’t require me to get too graphic, and luckily Brutus decided to come to my assistance.

“Static electricity,” he blurted out.

Dooley directed a questioning look at the cat, who blinked.

“Oh, Brutus, sweetie,” said Harriet with a laugh.

“No, I’m serious,” Brutus persevered. “During all of this… lovemaking, static electricity is created by… rubbing… certain body parts against… other body parts. And it’s this static electricity that results in babies. And since lingerie is often made of satin, it increases static electricity and therefore, um, the baby-making, um, requirements.”

I stared at him, and shook my head. Of all the lame explanations, this one took the cake. But Dooley happily gobbled it up. “That is so interesting, Brutus. No one ever told me that babies are created like that. It makes perfect sense. Absolutely.”

“Of course it does,” said Harriet, trying to stifle another guffaw.

“Anyway, that explains the, um, lingerie Gabi mentioned,” said Brutus.

“Sound advice,” I said, nodding as I kept a straight face. “From Gabi, I mean.”

“Oh, Gabi’s advice is always sound,” said Harriet. “Her answer to me was nothing short of brilliant.”

“You asked her for advice?”

“Of course I did,” she said primly, and hopped down from the couch.

“So what was it?” I asked, my curiosity thoroughly piqued.

“None of your business, Max,” she said a little haughtily. “Suffice it to say her answer gave me plenty of food for thought.” And with these words, she walked off.

After Dooley and I had followed her departure, our gazes swiveled to Brutus, who was shaking his head. “I’m sorry, you guys,” he said. “I really can’t. She told me not to tell anyone, and that includes you.”

“Oh, come on, Brutus,” I said. “You cannot not tell us after that buildup. Spill.”

But he pressed his lips together and went on shaking his head, as if afraid he might inadvertently blurt out Harriet’s big secret if he opened his mouth.

“Does it have something to do with lingerie?” asked Dooley.

“No, it does not,” said Brutus. “No lingerie involved whatsoever. And please don’t ask me because I won’t tell you.” He made to jump down from the couch, but I stopped him with a gesture from my paw.

“Tell us, Brutus. We’re all friends here, and friends don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“In this case, yes, they do,” he intimated.

“Oh, I know,” said Dooley. “Harriet is actually Desperate Debbie, and the husband she was complaining about is you, isn’t it, Brutus?”

“No, it’s not!” said Brutus, sounding a little incensed. “I’ll have you know that Harriet has never had anything to complain about where our love life is concerned. Not once.”

“Oh,” said Dooley. He shrugged. “Well, then I have no idea what she means.”

I had no idea either, and I won’t conceal the fact that it irked me. I mean to say, I never have any secrets to hide from my housemates, so I didn’t see why they would keep secrets from me. It wasn’t fair. But then I figured there was a simple solution: clearly Harriet’s question had been answered to her satisfaction by this Gabi, so all I had to do was sift through the different questions until I’d found the one Harriet had posted.

“Sorry,” said Brutus, looking distinctly uncomfortable, and jumped down from the couch. The moment he’d gone, I checked Odelia’s tablet for answers. I quickly scrolled through the many letters people had sent in and the answers Gabi had posted. None of them struck me as Harriet’s, though, and when I finally gave up I still wasn’t any the wiser.

I found Dooley staring at me with a bemused expression on his face.

“What?” I asked.

“Cats don’t need lingerie,” he said, as if he’d just had an epiphany. “If we rub our furs together the crackle should be enough to create plenty of babies.” His eyes went wide. “Oh, no!” He gulped. “Every time I rub myself against Odelia’s new fleece sweater there’s a definite crackle. I hope I didn’t get myself pregnant!”

Chapter 2

Vesta Muffin stood staring at the wrought-iron gate in front of her, then down at the little piece of paper Dan Goory had given her. Yep, it looked like she was at the right place, all right. So she took a deep breath and pressed her finger on the buzzer.

“Oh, great,” a voice spoke behind her. Even without turning she already knew who the voice belonged to. Scarlett Canyon, not exactly her favorite person in the world.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, more a growl than a politely phrased question.

“I could ask you the same thing,” said Scarlett.

Vesta turned to face her longtime nemesis. Scarlett was dressed in her usual attire: form-hugging top, ditto tiger-print leggings, and of course stiletto heels. Her formidable bust was on clear display, and her usual russet curls were a platinum blond this time.

“Are you following me?” Vesta asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Scarlett barked an incredulous laugh. “Following you! Don’t flatter yourself, Vesta. Why would I be following you?”

“Because you know I’ve just been invited by a celebrity and you can’t stand the thought of me besting you for once.”

“I’ll have you know that I’ve been invited by that very same celebrity.”

Vesta stared at the woman. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Scarlett tilted up her chin an inch or two. “You’re looking at the one and only Dear Gabi, Hampton Cove Gazette’s very own advice columnist.”

“That’s impossible. I’m Dear Gabi!” said Vesta.

“Yes?” suddenly a voice crackled from the intercom.

“Vesta Muffin. I have an appointment with Miss Gray,” said Vesta.

“Please tell Miss Gray Scarlett Canyon has arrived,” Scarlett said, leaning into the intercom.

The gate clicked open, then, and both women moved forward as one woman. Scarlett was first to reach the widening gap in the gate and squeezed through before Vesta could, then was teetering along the drive in the direction of the main house, followed by Vesta, who easily overtook her, since she wore sensible white sneakers, her usual footwear.

“You can’t be Gabi,” she said, picking up their argument where they’d left off. “I’m Gabi. Which is exactly why Miss Gray invited me up here.”

“I’ve turned Gabi into a household name since I picked up my pen. So there.”

“But… we can’t both be Gabi, can we?” said Vesta, a sneaking suspicion creeping up on her.

Scarlett let rip a melodious laugh, the same laugh that Vesta had learned to loathe in their decade-long association. “Both of us being Gabi. As if! Dan wouldn’t dare.”

They shared a quick look, then Vesta groaned. “I thought he wrote those other answers. The ones that I didn’t write? At least that’s what he told me.”

“It’s what he told me,” Scarlett confirmed with a rare frown. She knew it messed up her Botoxed brow. “Do you mean to tell me he’s had us both write as Gabi and didn’t think to mention the fact?”

“Yeah, I guess he did,” Vesta confirmed.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Scarlett looked as taken aback now as Vesta. “The bastard!”

“You can say that again,” Vesta confirmed.

“He told me I was Hampton Cove’s Gabi. Me and no one else!”

“He told me the exact same thing.”

“But why would he do a thing like that!”

The reason was obvious. Gabi’s column had become so popular in the last couple of months letters had been pouring in, much more than one person could handle. So instead of hiring one Gabi to deal with the onslaught of advice seekers, he’d hired two, and since both women weren’t exactly the best of friends, decided to keep it a secret.

For a moment, neither woman spoke, as they hiked the short distance along the gravel driveway up to the house. Then Scarlett said begrudgingly, “I have to admit I liked some of the advice you’ve been dispensing.”

“And I have to admit I’ve liked some of yours,” said Vesta, just as grudgingly.

“Was it you that told Charlene Butterwick she should settle down and start a family with a deserving male?” asked Scarlett.

“That was me. But how did you know it was Butterwick that asked the question?”

Scarlett made a scoffing sound. “Wasn’t it obvious? ‘I’m a successful local politician but feel as if there’s something missing in my life and I don’t know what it is?’”

“Yeah, I guess that was pretty obvious,” Vesta admitted. “Was it you that told my daughter she should go on that European vacation before she’s too old to travel?”

“Yup. Marge deserves that vacation. She’s been wanting to go for a long time.”

“That was some great advice.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve been telling Marge for years she should take that trip. Maybe now she’ll do it.”

They’d arrived at the house and the door swung open to reveal a heavyset woman dressed in a gray suit. She looked a distinguished fifty, though she could have been a well-preserved sixty. She greeted them with a thin-lipped smile. “Welcome, dear hearts.”

“Thanks, Miss Gray,” said Vesta.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Gray,” said Scarlett with a touch of reverence.

“Not as pleased as I am to finally meet the rising stars on the agony aunt firmament,” said Miss Gray, and stepped aside to let them in. “When Dan told me to expect two Gabis I didn’t conceal my surprise. Though when he explained it to me it made perfect sense.”

“Oh, he explained it to you, did he?” said Vesta, still peeved about the Gazette editor’s deceit. “He didn’t do us that courtesy.”

“You mean you didn’t know there were two of you?” asked Miss Gray as she closed the door.

“No, ma’am, we did not,” said Scarlett, glancing around the hallway, which was clean and fancy, with a white marble floor and a nice skylight that added an airy touch.

Miss Gray surprised them by bursting out laughing. “Oh, that Dan. The old rascal is up to his old tricks again, is he?”

“You mean he’s done this before?” asked Vesta.

“Oh, sure. When I was the Gazette’s resident Gabi, about twenty years ago, he neglected to tell me there was a second and even a third Gabi until I was three months into the job. All that time I assumed he did double duty as editor and advice columnist, when all the while he’d been paying two of my best friends to pick up the slack since I couldn’t possibly answer all the letters myself.”

“He did the same with us,” Vesta grumbled, though she decided not to mention the fact that Scarlett wasn’t exactly her best friend. Quite the opposite.

“Please come in,” said Miss Gray with a gesture of the hand, and walked them into a spacious living room, dominated by the same white theme: white marble floors, white leather couches, white carpets, white furniture—there was even a white baby grand piano, sheet music placed for whoever liked to tickle the ivory in Miss Gray’s house.

“Do you play?” asked Scarlett, never one to refrain from sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.

“No, but my niece does,” said Miss Gray, then gestured to the couch and both women took a seat while their hostess walked over to the piano and lightly touched the keys. “Do you know why I invited you here?”

“No, I don’t,” said Vesta.

“I assumed it had something to do with the column,” said Scarlett as she rubbed her ankle.

“Why do you insist on wearing those heels?” said Vesta, giving her fellow Gabi a critical look. “You’ll break your ankles one of these days.”

“Oh, shut up,” snapped Scarlett. “Coming from someone who insists on looking like a nurse that’s rich.”

“I don’t look like a nurse,” said Vesta.

“Yes, you do, with your nurse’s shoes and that white tracksuit you always wear.”

“What white tracksuit? I don’t wear a white tracksuit.”

“Ladies, ladies,” said Miss Gray, taking a seat across from them. “I didn’t invite you here to squabble.”

“I’m sorry,” said Vesta. “It’s just that Scarlett and I aren’t exactly best friends.”

“No, Dan told me,” said the woman.

“He did?” asked Scarlett, sounding as surprised as Vesta was feeling.

“Looks like Dan told you a lot of things.”

“Dan and I go way back,” said Miss Gray with a smile. “In fact I was his first advice columnist. But that’s not why I invited you. The reason you’re both here is because—”

Suddenly a piercing scream sounded from upstairs, and quick as a flash Miss Gray was on her feet, hurrying to the door with an alacrity and speed belying her age.

Vesta and Scarlett hurried after her, curious what could have caused such a horrific scream.

They arrived in the doorway just in time to see a young woman staggering down the stairs. She was crying, looking distraught, and her hands were covered in blood.

“I killed him!” she wailed. “I killed Kirk, Auntie Allison. He’s dead!”

Chapter 3

“Listen to this,” said Odelia. “’Of course you shouldn’t worry that each time you go out on a date with your boyfriend something comes up. Maybe next time simply surprise him, Anxious Heart’” She looked up with a frown. “What do you think? Is Gabi right?”

“Of course she’s right,” said Odelia’s mother, who was intently gazing at a spot on the wall. It could have been tomato juice or a dead fly but whatever it was, it had no right to be there.

“You do? You don’t think the fact that we haven’t had a normal dinner date is weird?”

“Dear Gabi seems like a very sensible person. In fact she gave me some very good advice the other day.”

“Wait, you sent a letter to Gabi, too?”

They were in her mother’s kitchen, since Odelia had wanted to ask Marge’s advice about Gabi’s answer to her heart’s cry.

“I sent her a message through the Gazette website’s contact form. Completely anonymous, of course. Technology is wonderful. You can send messages and no one will know you posted them.”

Odelia decided not to mention that if Dan wanted to know he could very easily find out who’d sent him the message, by tracing the IP address. “So what did you ask?”

“Oh, just something I’ve been wondering about for a long time.”

“Like what, exactly?” It wasn’t her mother’s habit to beat about the bush like this, so she had a feeling it might be something big. “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant again.”

Marge arched an eyebrow as she rubbed at the suspicious spot with a damp dishrag. “I might be,” she said mysteriously. “Wouldn’t you like to have a little brother or sister?”

Odelia stared at her mother. “No way!”

Marge laughed. “No way sounds about right. No way am I going to get busy with diapers and midnight nursing again.”

Odelia heaved a sigh of relief, which had her mother dart a disapproving glance in her direction. “No disrespect, Mom, but you and Dad are probably past the baby stage by now.”

“Mh,” said her mother, clearly not in absolute agreement.

“So what did you ask Dan’s new oracle?”

“Well, you know how your father and I have been saving up for that trip to Europe?”

“Uh-huh.” Mom and Dad had been saving for years. The idea had been to go traveling as soon as Mom retired, which was still a couple of years off.

“Well, I’ve been thinking of taking that trip now, instead of waiting until we’re too old.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” she said. “So what did Gabi say?”

“She said I should totally go for it,” said Marge, nodding. “Remind me to tell your dad to repaint the kitchen. I never noticed before how dirty these walls have become.”

“Do you have enough money saved?”

“Oh, sure. It’s not just the money for the trip, but we could also take the money we were saving to remodel the kitchen. It should pay for three weeks in Europe. London, Paris, Amsterdam, Rome, Venice…” She smiled as she spoke the words.

Mom and Dad had spent a summer backpacking through Europe when they’d just graduated from college. They’d been planning to take the trip with friends, but both Mom’s best friend and Dad’s best friend had bailed on them at the last minute, and so they’d decided to go together instead. It was during this trip that they’d felt the spark, and by the time they returned stateside they’d been engaged to be married. Nine months later Odelia had been born and they’d been talking about going back to Europe ever since, only this time to stay in some nice hotels instead of youth hostels, and dine in some of the fancier restaurants instead of picnicking by the side of the road.

“I’d say go for it, Mom,” said Odelia. “In fact I don’t know what took you so long.”

“Well, it’s not like your dad can take time off at the drop of a hat,” said Mom. “And I have the library to consider.”

“Marcie can take care of the library, and I’m sure Dad will find a replacement.”

Mom nodded and took a seat at the table. “So are you going to ask Gabi what’s really on your mind? Are you going to ask her advice about finally picking a wedding date?”

“I might,” said Odelia carefully. She and her boyfriend Chase had gotten engaged months before, but had never really talked about a timetable for the wedding, figuring they had plenty of time to figure things out.

“What’s holding you back, exactly?” asked Mom with a look of concern. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, of course not. I love Chase, and I want to get married. It’s just that…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know. The topic hasn’t come up since he first asked me.”

“He did ask you in a strange way, if I remember correctly.”

“He did.” She smiled at the recollection. They’d been in England at the time, at the invitation of Prince Dante and his wife Tessa, who was being targeted by an unknown assailant. There had been a tense moment at some point where Tessa had been under attack. Shots were fired and Chase and Odelia ducked for cover. It was at this moment that Chase had proposed, and Odelia said yes, fearing their final hour had struck.

“I guess we figured we had plenty of time to get married, and why rush into things?”

“No, of course,” said Mom. “I just wondered, that’s all.”

Odelia didn’t want to admit it, but she had wondered, too. Wondered why Chase had never mentioned marriage again after their return from England. Had he regretted proposing to her and was that the reason he’d never concretized his plans?

Mom patted her hand. “You know? I think you and Chase should have a long talk about this.”

“Yeah, about that… I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. What if he doesn’t want to get married? Where will that leave me?”

“But don’t you want to know about his plans?”

She nodded. She did want to know.

“Oh, you think he’s having second thoughts, and if you ask him and he tells you the wedding is off you’ll regret asking the question, is that it? Because now you’re still engaged, and as long as you don’t talk about it, it stays that way?”

She nodded sheepishly. “Sounds pretty lame when you put it like that.”

“Oh, honey. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. I know for a fact that Chase is still crazy about you. I can tell from the way he looks at you. But don’t you agree it’s better to discuss this with him than go on wondering how he feels about the proposal?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she said reluctantly.

“Or do you want me to have a chat with him?”

“No, it’s fine, Mom. Next time we go out to dinner I was thinking I could slip it in.”

“Between the main course and dessert, you mean?” said Mom with a twinkle in her eye.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Mom laughed. “Oh, honey. I’m sure he’ll be happy to talk about getting married to you. Just you wait and see.”

She nodded as she traced a pattern in a little pile of spilled salt on the kitchen table. What if the reason Chase hadn’t talked about the wedding was that he regretted having proposed to her in the first place and didn’t know how to break the bad news?

Chapter 4

Vesta, Scarlett and their hostess hurried up the stairs, followed by Miss Gray’s dazed-looking niece who kept muttering, as she stared at her bloodied hands, “I killed him. I actually killed Kirk.”

Allison Gray led the way into a room off to the side and there, lying on the floor looking pretty dead, was a man whose appearance looked vaguely familiar to Vesta. He had a big old knife sticking out of his chest, and an expression on his face that told a story of being startled by the sudden fate that had befallen him.

“He looks dead,” Scarlett aptly concluded. “In fact he looks deader than dead.”

Vesta would have argued no one could possibly be deader than dead, since being dead was sufficiently fatal already, but their hostess had suddenly started screaming so this didn’t seem like a good time to teach Scarlett about the facts of life and death.

“Why, Mia!” Allison cried. “Why did you do it?!”

Her words were directed at her niece, who’d come tottering down the stairs and who now came staggering into the room.

“I… I don’t know,” Mia said. “I don’t actually remember stabbing him, but I must have.”

“What do you mean, you don’t remember?” asked Vesta.

“I was asleep in the next room,” said the girl. “And when I woke up I was sitting next to Kirk, my hands covered with his blood. Only…” She frowned, as if trying to recollect.

“Only what?” Vesta prompted.

But Mia, who was svelte and fair-haired and looked like a nymph, shook her head. “Nothing. It’s all a big blur.”

“Who is he?” asked Scarlett, gesturing to the dead man. “He looks familiar.”

“Kirk Weaver,” said Allison Gray. “The cat whisperer.”

“Of course!” said Vesta. “I thought I recognized him. He’s got that show.”

“Cat Whisperer with Kirk Weaver,” Allison supplied helpfully. She was pressing a tissue to her eyes and still looked shell-shocked. “He did private sessions, too. My Jasmine has been acting out lately, so I thought I’d invite Kirk to take a look.”

“Jasmine?” asked Scarlett.

“My sweetheart,” explained Allison, a little unhelpfully. And as if summoned, just at that moment a gorgeous white Persian came traipsing into the room, took one disdainful look at the dead man, and traipsed back out again, Kirk clearly not worthy of her attention.

“Jasmine never really took to Kirk, and he said her behavioral difficulties were too numerous to treat in a single session, so I ended up inviting him to stay with us for a while. He’s been here for the past three weeks, working intensively with Jasmine. And I think he’d just managed a real breakthrough when…” Allison sniffed and directed a sad look at her young niece. “Why?” she cried. “Why, Mia?”

“I don’t know,” said the young lady. “I don’t remember a thing.”

“You never liked him.”

“I didn’t dislike him.”

“You told me to get rid of him.”

“I told you he was after your money.”

“That doesn’t mean you had to kill him!”

“Um, who are you, exactly?” asked Scarlett, interrupting this dialogue.

“Mia. I’m Auntie Allison’s niece.”

“My brother Freddie’s daughter,” Allison explained. “Freddie and Jackie are in Japan right now, and asked me to keep an eye on their little girl.”

Mia looked about twenty-five, so not exactly a little girl, Vesta thought. Obviously big enough to handle a knife and stab the celebrated cat whisperer to death with it. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Allison Gray was right. This was one fine mess her niece had landed her into. A big scandal would ensue, especially since Kirk was famous.

Suddenly Allison directed a pleading look at Vesta and Scarlett. “Please don’t tell anyone,” she said, quite surprisingly.

“What do you mean, don’t tell anyone?” asked Scarlett, also taken aback by this strange request.

“I actually asked you over to announce that you’ve both been selected to join the AAA, of which I’m the chairwoman. It’s a great honor,” she added, nodding seriously.

“Triple-A? I don’t even own a car,” said Vesta.

“And I don’t drive,” said Scarlett.

Allison pursed her lips. “Not Triple-A. The Agony Aunt Association. Founded in England in 1922, we launched the American AAA in 1932. Only the best advice columnists in the country are eligible for membership, which is by invitation only. We have a monthly newsletter full of tips and tricks, and once a year we hand out the Agony Aunt of the Year Award. It’s called the Aggie, and is considered a great honor.”

“I’ve heard of the Aggie,” said Scarlett, turning to Vesta. “I’d love to get one.”

“Well, I don’t care about the AAA or the Aggie,” said Vesta. “All I know is that a murder took place here and we need to call the cops.” She wasn’t entirely truthful, though. She had also heard of the Aggie, and in her heart of hearts had dreamed of winning it ever since she took the Dear Gabi job. Still, she couldn’t overlook the fact that there was a dead man at her feet, a decidedly bewildered look in his eyes.

“Please,” said Allison. “This will destroy Mia. And me, of course. My reputation…”

“Are you seriously asking us to let your niece get away with murder?” asked Vesta, flabbergasted.

“Not get away with murder, per se, but maybe we can make it look like an accident?”

“Yeah, maybe he fell on the knife and then rolled over on his back,” said Scarlett. When Vesta gave her a scathing look, she shrugged and said, “It’s possible. Unlikely, but possible.”

“I don’t believe this,” said Vesta, shaking her head.

“The Aggie is yours if you do this!” Allison blurted out.

“And what about me?” said Scarlett. “I’m a Gabi, too, you know.”

“We’ll hand out two Aggie awards this year! Or maybe you can share one!” The woman was wringing her hands now, clearly at the end of her tether.

“It’s going to diminish the title’s prestige,” said Scarlett, and Vesta groaned.

She then spotted tiny little red footprints leading from the dead man to the door, and decided to follow them. No way was she going to allow herself to get roped into a cover-up, but the Aggie award was still exacting its powerful appeal, and it didn’t hurt to talk to a witness about what exactly had happened here today.

She entered the next room which was, indeed, a bedroom, and saw that Jasmine had jumped up onto the window seat and was leisurely licking herself. The cat looked up when she entered and gave her a foul look.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

“Just checking something,” Vesta returned, and watched with satisfaction as Jasmine’s jaw dropped.

“You can understand me?” the prissy cat asked, visibly astonished.

“Sure I can understand you. Now tell me something—did you happen to see the murder of that poor Mr. Weaver?”

“I missed it,” said the cat tersely, still staring at Vesta as if she’d seen a ghost. “So it is true. There are actually people out there who can talk to cats.”

“Yes, it’s true. So did you hear something, or see something?”

Jasmine slowly shook her head. “Kirk acted as if he could talk to me, but he was just a big phony. He couldn’t understand a word I said.”

“Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush. This girl Mia is in big trouble.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“She just confessed to killing Kirk, that’s why. And if the police get here she’s going to prison for murder.”

“Oh, that is so ridiculous,” said Jasmine.

“And why is that?”

“Because she didn’t do it, that’s why. When Kirk was in the process of getting himself killed Mia was in here with me, asleep on her bed. It’s only when she heard Kirk cry out that she went over there to take a look.”

Now it was Vesta’s turn to look stunned. “Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I’m sure! Would I make up a story like that?”

“You could, to protect your human.”

“Mia isn’t even my human. Allison is. And besides, are you calling me a liar?” Her eyes were blazing, and she suddenly reminded Vesta a lot of Harriet.

“No, but… Mia says she doesn’t remember a thing. She only remembers waking up and sitting next to Kirk’s body, his blood on her hands.”

“That’s because Mia took a sleeping pill last night and only woke up just now. She must not have been fully awake when she went into the next room and found Kirk.”

“And the blood on her hands?”

“You’d have to ask her, but my best guess is that she touched the man. There’s a lot of blood, if you hadn’t noticed. I myself happened to step into it.” She made a face.

“Well, this sure changes everything,” said Vesta as she darted a curious glance at the door. “So who do you think killed Kirk?”

“No idea. Like I said, I was in here with Mia when it happened.”

Suddenly Scarlett popped her head in. “Who are you talking to?” she asked.

“No one,” said Vesta. “But I think maybe you were right. We shouldn’t be too hasty to call the cops.”

“Of course I’m right!” said Scarlett. “Haven’t you noticed I’m always right?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I think we need to call Odelia.”

“Your granddaughter? Why?”

“She’s going to have to help me figure out what happened here, exactly.”

“But we already know what happened here, exactly. Mia killed Kirk and she’s sorry.”

“I have reason to believe that Mia is actually innocent, and I intend to prove it.”

Scarlett darted a quick look at Jasmine, who’d returned to her grooming ritual. “Uh-huh,” she said finally. “You know what? You don’t need Odelia to figure this out. You’ve got me.”

Vesta emitted a scathing laugh. “You’re not a detective, Scarlett.”

“No, but I just heard you talking to a cat. And if you don’t want me to spread that little tidbit of embarrassing information all over town, you’re going to have to deputize me.”

Vesta stared at the woman. “You wouldn’t.”

Scarlett arched a perfectly penciled eyebrow. “Watch me.”

Both women squared off for a moment, then Vesta decided it wasn’t worth it and gave up. “Fine, you win. But I still want Odelia. She knows what she’s doing.”

“Isn’t she, like, about to get married to a cop?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“She’ll blab.”

“No, she won’t.”

“I’m telling you, she’s a blabber.”

“No, she’s not. Now do you want to investigate this murder with me or not? Cause if you do, I’m the one who’ll be calling the shots. And I say we bring in my granddaughter.”

Scarlett eyed her opponent for a moment, then finally smiled. “Let’s do this, pardner,” and held up her hand for a high five.

“God give me strength,” said Vesta.

Chapter 5

I was still pondering the nature of Harriet’s question to the Gazette’s advice columnist when Odelia swept into the room and announced, shockingly, “Gran is in trouble. She found a dead body.”

“What?!” I cried, instantly up and ready for action. Well, maybe not instantly. There are laws of nature governing large bodies and preventing them from responding with the kind of alacrity other, smaller cats can muster at the proverbial drop of a hat.

Though Dooley, too, was a little slow getting out of the gate, mostly because he’d been developing his theory about life originating from static electricity.

“Let’s go,” said Odelia.

“Where, who, how?” I asked as I jumped down from the couch and made to follow my human.

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

Moments later Dooley and I were both ensconced on the backseat of Odelia’s aged pickup truck, as it trundled out of Harrington Street and quickly rounded the corner.

“Oh, shoot,” she said, thunking the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. “I should have brought Harriet and Brutus along.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “Harriet is busy working on some kind of master plan and has roped in Brutus to help her.

“What master plan?” asked Dooley.

“I have no idea. She wouldn’t tell us, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right. She asked Gabi a question and she wouldn’t tell us what it was.”

“That’s a coincidence,” said Odelia as she navigated the streets of Hampton Cove. “The murder took place at Allison Gray’s house, who used to be Dan’s original Gabi. She writes for Cosmo now.”

“Who’s Cosmo?” asked Dooley dutifully.

“She’s also the head of the American AAA,” Odelia continued, “The Agony Aunt Association. But what Gran was doing there I don’t know. And she mentioned that Scarlett was with her and they’re working the investigation together if you please.”

Now that was a surprise. Gran and Scarlett have never liked each other. The fact that Scarlett once had relations with Gran’s husband probably had something to do with that.

“So who died?” I asked.

“Kirk Weaver,” said Odelia.

“No way. The cat whisperer?”

“Who’s Kirk Weaver?” asked Dooley. “Is he Cosmo’s husband?”

“Kirk is the host of a famous television show,” Odelia explained. “He visits people at home and helps them with their cats’ behavioral problems.”

“You mean he can talk to cats?”

“I doubt it,” said Odelia. “But he does have a good reputation as a cat whisperer.”

“He whispers to cats? Why? Does he have problems with his voice?”

“It’s just a way of describing a person who’s really good with animals,” I said. “Like a horse whisperer is great with horses, a dog whisperer is good with dogs, etcetera.”

“Is there also a mouse whisperer?” asked Dooley. “Because I think we might have mice again.”

Odelia groaned. “Not again.”

I confirmed Dooley’s suspicions. “I heard them last night. And I think it might be the same family as last time.”

“I thought they had all moved on to Marcie and Ted’s?” Odelia asked.

“Maybe they like a change of scene from time to time?”

“Well, looks like you guys have got your work cut out for you,” said Odelia blithely.

Now it was my turn to groan. For some reason humans always assume all cats are natural mousers. Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t enjoy the prospect of catching a lovable little furry creature and then eating it alive, like some cats are rumored to do. In fact I’d rather coexist in peace and harmony than resort to such acts of barbarism.

“Maybe we can ask Gabi,” Dooley suggested. “She seems to have all the answers.”

This made Odelia laugh, which was a good thing, for investigating murder is a tough job, and Odelia could use all the levity she could get before things got serious.

We’d arrived at the front gate of one of those big mansions the Hamptons are littered with, and I saw Gran’s car parked right outside the gate. Well, technically the little red Peugeot is Marge’s car, but more often than not it’s Gran who drives it. Badly, I might add.

We got out and Odelia pressed her finger to the buzzer. After she’d announced her arrival, the gate clicked open and she drove us down a short driveway leading to the house.

“Why did Gran park her car on the street?” asked Dooley. A very sensible question.

“She probably didn’t know she could park up at the house,” said Odelia. Gran isn’t as used to navigating the homes of the rich and famous as Odelia, who’s conducted her fair share of murder inquiries, often involving those same glitterati.

The house, squat and red-brick, was a modest one, compared to some of the ones I’d seen in my time.

We got out of the car and Gran appeared in the doorway to greet us. And as she walked up to us with a sense of urgency in her step, she lowered her voice and said, “I talked to Allison’s cat and she assures me there’s no way Allison’s niece could have done it.”

“So instead of calling Uncle Alec you called me,” Odelia deduced immediately.

“Of course! If I call Alec he’ll arrest the poor girl on the spot. And no judge will accept the testimony of a cat.”

“Or an old lady claiming she can talk to cats,” said Odelia, nodding.

“Hey. Who are you calling an old lady?”

“Sorry, Gran. So what were you doing here?”

Gran straightened a little. “Well, if you must know, Allison’s been looking for a cat sitter and so I figured I might apply for the job.”

“You want to be a cat sitter?”

Gran bridled. “Why? You don’t think I can do it?”

“No, of course you can, Gran. In fact you’re perfect for the job. But what about Dad?”

“Oh, I’ll keep on doing that, of course. Now are you coming in or what? Standing around here flapping your gums isn’t going to solve poor Kirk Weaver’s murder!”

Chapter 6

“I don’t understand what we’re doing here, snow pea,” said Brutus.

“You’ll understand soon enough, snuggle pooh,” said Harriet, feeling more chipper and bright than she’d felt in ages. She was walking with purpose, a cat on a mission.

“Shouldn’t we have told Max and Dooley what we’re up to? They’re our best friends.”

“Sometimes it’s best for best friends to not be in the know,” she said. “And you know Max. He’ll only start to criticize the scheme.”

“I don’t think so,” said Brutus. “He could even help us. Max knows a lot of stuff.”

“Max is a male, Brutus, and males don’t know half the stuff females do. Besides, who’s going to listen to the advice of a male? No one, that’s who. So let’s keep this between us.”

“All right,” said Brutus, though he didn’t exactly sound convinced.

They’d arrived in town and Harriet plastered a pleasant smile onto her face. This was her moment. Her chance to shine. The only disadvantage was that she’d have to shine anonymously, which is always a tough proposition. But she was going to make it work.

“Let’s talk to Kingman first,” she suggested. “If Kingman knows, the whole town knows.”

“Fine,” said Brutus without much enthusiasm.

So they strode up to Kingman, the big cat lounging in the sun on the pavement in front of his human’s store.

“Hi, Harriet,” he said. “Hey, Brutus. What’s cooking?”

“I’ve just heard the most exciting news,” Harriet began. “Isn’t that right, Brutus?”

“The most exciting news,” Brutus muttered.

“You know the Hampton Cove Gazette advice column?” said Harriet.

“Uh-huh,” said Kingman. “What about it?”

“Well, they’re about to add a second Gabi, only this Gabi isn’t called Gabi but Chloe.” She let that sink in for a moment.

“Chloe, huh?” said Kingman with a yawn. “Great. More dumb answers to dumb questions posted by dumb humans.”

“No, but you see, Chloe isn’t like Gabi. Chloe will be answering questions from pets! Isn’t that exciting?”

“Pets?” asked Kingman with a frown. “Pets can’t write. How are they going to send in their questions?”

“I’ve got that all worked out—I mean Dan Goory, the Gazette’s editor, has got it all worked out—or will, once he gets on board with the exciting new scheme. Pets will talk to correspondents, for instance you, who will relay the questions to me or Brutus, who’ll work with Chloe to figure out the replies and get them ready for publication. It’s going to revolutionize the entire advice column concept!”

“Sure,” said Kingman, not looking convinced. “So pets will talk to me or whoever, we talk to you, and then what? How will you feed those same questions to Chloe?”

“Just leave that to me. I have established a personal connection with Chloe, and I’ll personally introduce the questions to her. Personally.”

“So you know this Chloe, huh?”

“I do,” said Harriet proudly, with a wink to Brutus, which he didn’t return. “And she’s very nice and knowledgeable and she’ll answer your questions with wisdom and tact.”

“She’s wise, this Chloe, is she?”

“She is very wise. Very, very wise. Very, very, very wise. And clever, too.”

“So who is she?” asked Kingman.

“I’m sorry but I can’t tell you that.”

“Is she from around here?”

“Y-yes, she is.”

“And she’s a cat, like us?”

“Mh-mh.”

A slow smile spread across Kingman’s face. “Then I think I know who it is. Typical.”

Harriet gave Kingman a wary look. “You figured it out already?”

“Of course! There’s only one cat in all of Hampton Cove who’s wise and tactful and clever enough to think up such a plan.”

Harriet blinked, warmth spreading through her chest. “I know, right?”

“And there she is now!” said Kingman.

Harriet looked up, and to her utter dismay saw that Shanille had joined them. Shanille, Father Reilly’s cat and cat choir’s resident conductor, didn’t always see eye to eye with Harriet, their disputes mostly centering around Harriet’s desire to be cat choir’s one and only soprano soloist.

“Harriet just told me about the new job,” said Kingman. “Congratulations, Shanille! I’ll spread the word, shall I? Make sure you have plenty of work.”

Shanille gave him a look of confusion. “What job? What work?”

Kingman winked and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Chloe! Need I say more?”

“Yes, you do. Who’s Chloe?”

“Don’t worry. My lips are sealed!” said Kingman.

“I don’t get it,” said Shanille.

Kingman lost some of his bluster. “Oh, don’t you play coy with me, Shanille. Harriet here told me all about it. And as your oldest friend I think you should have told me first.”

“Told you what?!”

“The advice column job!”

Now it was Shanille’s turn to drop her voice to a whisper. “Have you been drinking again, Kingman? You know how I feel about cats and alcohol. Besides, it’s not good for you.”

“I haven’t touched a drop of the stuff, I swear!”

“Well, see that you don’t. A wise cat once told me that when you need alcohol to see you through the day it’s time to turn your face to your Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He’s all the stimulant you need.” She frowned. “Now why are you grinning at me like that?”

“I knew it! You can’t help giving advice even when I didn’t ask for it. You’re a natural, Shanille, and I’m gonna tell this whole town to start sending in their questions.”

“Crazy,” said Shanille as she walked away. “The cat is completely cuckoo.”

Kingman tapped his nose. “Don’t worry, Harriet. Shanille’s secret is safe with me.”

Harriet, following the conversation with rising perturbation, merely groaned. And as she walked off, she wondered why, oh, why she’d ever deemed the pets of Hampton Cove worth saving. Now she’d be doing all the work, with Shanille taking all the credit.

She better ask Gabi what to do. Gabi was smart. Gabi knew.

Chapter 7

“Oh, dear heart, I’m so glad you could make it,” said the woman. Of course Odelia didn’t recognize her, as most of the people who worked for these advice columns did so anonymously, and their pictures were rarely shown, but she assumed this was Allison.

“I came here as fast as I could,” she said, darting a quick glance upstairs, where her grandmother had told her the body of the dead man still lay. “Look, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep the police out of this, Allison.”

“But your grandmother gave me her word you wouldn’t call the police,” said Allison, looking dismayed. “My niece’s life is on the line. If the police arrest her, it’s all over. No future, unless as a criminal, incarcerated with the worst offenders in some maximum-security hellhole. I can’t do that to her. Whatever she did, I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“She didn’t do it,” said Gran. “I’m sure of it now.”

Allison’s eyes went wide as she clutched both hands to her chest. “Oh, dear heart, your faith in my niece is touching, but surely you saw yourself what happened. She stabbed him with the knife and ran down the stairs, her hands covered in his blood.”

“I know that,” said Gran. “But I also know that I need to follow my hunches, and my hunch tells me she didn’t do it.”

“But then how do you explain about the blood?”

“I think what happened is that your niece woke up, still woozy, and walked into the next room. She saw Kirk’s body and knelt down to try and bring the man back to life somehow. That’s when she came to her senses and came staggering down the stairs.”

Allison glanced over her shoulder, then said, in a low voice, “I’m very appreciative to you for defending my niece like that, dear heart, but I’m not sure it’s helpful. You see, Mia and Kirk were having an affair, and I have a hunch things may have ended badly between them and Mia must have experienced one of those fits of despair and killed her lover in a moment of temporary insanity, which is probably why she doesn’t remember a thing.”

“Mia and Kirk were having an affair?” asked Scarlett. “That’s interesting information, isn’t it, Odelia?”

Odelia stared at Scarlett for a moment. She’d heard her grandmother’s words about Scarlett inserting herself into the investigation but hadn’t really believed them until this very moment. “Yes, very interesting,” she finally conceded.

“That sounds like motive to me,” Scarlett continued. “So we have means, motive and opportunity. Enough for any jury of her peers to convict her and send her to the gallows.”

A cry of anguish escaped Allison’s throat, and Odelia quickly said, “They don’t send people to the gallows anymore, Scarlett.”

“Yeah, you’re thinking of olden times, Scarlett,” Gran added. “When you were young.”

“Haha, very funny, Vesta,” said Scarlett with a grimace.

“Oh, please, whatever you do, don’t call the police,” Allison pleaded, even going so far as to hold up her hands in a prayerful gesture.

“Look,” said Odelia. “My uncle is chief of police, as you probably know, and my boyfriend is a detective. And if I tell them that your niece didn’t do it, they’ll listen.”

Allison’s lips pressed together in an expression of disapproval. “You disappoint me, dear heart. And so do you, Vesta. I expected more from a fellow future Aggie winner.”

“Look, I can promise you this—we’re going to prove that your niece didn’t do it,” said Odelia. “You have my word on that. But what I can’t do is conduct an investigation with a dead man lying upstairs and the police soon wondering what happened to him when missing person reports start coming in. I mean, what were you planning to do with the body? Bury it in your backyard? Stick it in your basement? Turn it into a nice stew?”

“There’s no need for sarcasm, dear heart,” said Allison. “I have a big freezer. I thought about stuffing him in there for the time being. Perhaps indefinitely. Everything to protect my niece from the consequences of her actions. I gave my brother and my dear sister-in-law my solemn word I’d look after their daughter and I intend to live up to my promise.”

“Her parents died?”

“No, they’re in Japan.”

“Look, trust me and this will all be over soon,” said Odelia.

Allison studied her for a moment, then finally gave a curt nod. “But if anything happens to my niece—if anyone so much as hints at sending her to those gallows Miss Canyon referred to, I’m holding you personally responsible, Miss Poole. And you, Mrs. Muffin. And that means no more Aggies for you. Or you, dear heart,” she told Scarlett.

Both Gran and Scarlett looked a little sheepish, as Odelia frowned at them. “What’s all this about Aggies?” she asked. “What is she talking about?” she added when Allison walked up the stairs to give her niece the bad news that the police were coming.

“Allison’s favorite snack,” said Gran. “It’s made from eggs, hence the word Eggies.”

“Yeah, Allison loves her Eggies,” Scarlett was quick to add. “So,” she said blithely, “you girls can talk to cats. I always thought there was some truth to this rumor that’s been going around for years. So how does it work, exactly? And can you talk to dogs, too? And, more importantly, can you teach others? Me, for instance?”

Odelia stared at her grandmother in horror. “You told her!”

“She overheard me talking to Jasmine, all right?”

“Yes, I did. So can you teach me?” asked Scarlett.

“No, we can’t,” said Odelia. This was bad news. Even worse than the dead man upstairs. “It’s a gift, not something that can be taught.”

“Oh,” said Scarlett. “Too bad. I’ve always wondered what my Booboo was trying to tell me. I guess I’ll never know.” Then she perked up. “Unless you want to tell me?”

“We only talk to cats,” said Gran, not looking very happy. “Not dogs or whatever.”

“Too bad,” said Scarlett.

“But our cats can talk to dogs, and they can tell us what they said,” Odelia pointed out. “So if you promise not to tell another living soul about this—ever—I’ll drop by with Max one day and you can talk to your Booboo to your heart’s content.”

Scarlett smiled at this, then quickly adopted her usual blank expression again. Smiling led to wrinkles, and she didn’t want that. “It’s a deal,” she said. “Besides, I wouldn’t tell anyone anyway. Your grandmother and I may not always see eye to eye, but I would never dream of getting her into trouble.”

“That’s just great,” Gran grumbled.

“Hey, you can be a little nicer to a fellow sleuth,” said Scarlett. “Especially since she just discovered your biggest secret and promised to keep it a secret.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Gran. “Now how are we going to prove that what Jasmine said is true, and that Mia is innocent?”

“There’s only one way we can prove that,” said Odelia. “By finding the real killer.” And so she crouched down next to Max and Dooley, who’d followed the conversation with rapt attention. “You guys, this is very important. We need to find out what really happened. So could you go upstairs and talk to Jasmine?”

“She already told me everything she knows,” Gran pointed out.

“Well, you know what cats are like,” said Odelia, glancing up at her grandmother. “Especially Persians. She may not have told you everything.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Gran admitted.

“So, Max and Dooley, please talk to Jasmine, and find out what else she knows, all right?”

“Of course, Odelia,” said Max, and both cats trotted off up the stairs.

“Amazing,” said Scarlett, shaking her head. “I didn’t understand a word you just said.”

Chapter 8

“We should have brought Harriet,” said Dooley. “She and Jasmine could have had a chat. Persian to Persian, I mean. She would probably have been able to drag the truth out of her a lot better than we ever could.”

I had to admit my friend made a valid point. Persians are notoriously difficult, and have a tendency toward feeling superior to any other species of cat, or pet for that matter. And I wasn’t sure if she would listen to us, or even deem us worthy of a response when we asked her a question. But we owed it to Odelia to try our best.

So it was with a sense of slight trepidation that I entered Jasmine’s lair, which apparently was the room belonging to the girl called Mia, and scanned it for the presence of the white-haired feline.

She saw us before we saw her, though, and asked, a little haughtily, I thought, “And what are you two doing here? This is my room, my house, and trespassers are advised to keep out or face grievous bodily harm.”

“Um, we’re here with Odelia Poole,” I said, as I glanced around, trying to locate the source of Jasmin’s voice. “She’s been called in to investigate the murder of Kirk Weaver, and to clear the reputation of your human. My name is Max, by the way, and this is Dooley.”

“You don’t look like detectives,” the voice shot back, and I glanced over to the window and finally saw the curtain move. I smiled.

“And what is a detective supposed to look like?” I asked as I approached the window.

“Not one step closer!” suddenly the cat’s voice cut through the room, and immediately I froze. “When I think of a detective I picture them as distinguished, debonair, and devilishly clever. You two look like a comedy duo. Like Laurel and Hardy.”

I rolled my eyes. I could already imagine which one of the comedy pair I was. “Look, I don’t care what you think detectives are supposed to look like. I’ll have you know that we’ve solved our fair share of crimes in this town, and if you let us we’ll solve this one, too, and make sure your human isn’t sent to prison. She didn’t kill Kirk Weaver, did she?”

“That’s what I told the old lady and I stand by my words,” said Jasmine. She emerged from behind the curtains, and next to me Dooley emitted an involuntary gasp.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice suddenly husky.

Jasmine didn’t even crack a smile. “I know,” she said simply. “Now if there’s nothing else, I’d like you to leave this room. I don’t like other cats to shed in my personal space, and I can already see that you two are shedding like crazy. Especially you, Hardy, spreading a thick carpet of red fur all over my perfectly polished hardwood floor.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I said. “I always shed when I’m nervous.”

“Well, don’t,” she advised, and took a tentative sniff in our direction, then frowned. “Are you by any chance cohabiting with a Persian?”

“Yes, we are,” said Dooley. “Her name is Harriet and she looks a lot like you. Gorgeous and with beautiful white fur, I mean.”

“Mh,” said Jasmine. “Harriet. Strange name for a Persian. Then again, we can’t all be Jasmine. Well, what are you two still doing here? Didn’t I tell you to leave immediately?”

“There’s just a couple of questions I’d like to ask,” I said.

“That’s what detectives do,” Dooley pointed out with a lame chuckle.

“Oh, all right,” said Jasmine. “Go on. Ask your silly questions.”

“So you and Mia were in here when Kirk was killed, right?”

“If you’re going to make me repeat everything twice—”

“Just confirming,” I said quickly. “Now you say you heard a scream? How sure are you that it was Kirk screaming?”

“One hundred percent,” said Jasmine tersely. “I have perfect hearing, something which you two don’t seem to possess, in my opinion a serious failing for a pair of so-called detectives, though not unheard of in a comedy duo.”

“Why does she keep calling us a comedy duo, Max?” asked Dooley, but I decided to ignore him for now. Time was of the essence, before Jasmine got bored and kicked us out.

“Did you hear anything else? Voices or anything that might lead us to identify the real killer?” I asked.

Jasmine glanced up at the ceiling as she expelled a sigh. “No. Anything else?”

“So you have no idea who could have done this to Kirk?”

She was silent for a beat, then said, “My best guess would be Allison.”

“Mia’s aunt? But why?”

Jasmine leveled a long look at me, then said, “First off, I know there’s such a thing as a bond that pets share with their humans, and I personally have the greatest respect for this sacred covenant, all right?”

“Okay,” I said, wondering where this was going.

“Second, I’m not a liar. I pride myself in always telling the truth, no matter how inconvenient.”

“An admirable trait, I’m sure.”

“Oh, don’t patronize me, Hardy,” she said with a frown. “The thing is, if someone goes down for this murder, I’d prefer if it isn’t Mia, as I like her. Even though Allison is my human, I actually like Mia a lot more. She’s always been kind to me, whereas Allison only took me in because she needed another ornament to beautify her personal space. To her I’m like a piece of furniture, or a fancy dress that she can showcase to her friends. So at the risk of betraying the treasured bond that connects all cats and their humans…” She heaved a deep sigh. “Look, Mia was having an affair with this Kirk Weaver fellow. But she wasn’t the only one. At the same time he was also having an affair with Allison.”

“What?” I said, a little shocked.

“Yeah, color me surprised when I walked in on the two of them doing it in the kitchen one night when Mia was out with her friends.”

“What were they doing?” asked Dooley, interested.

Jasmine gave him a critical look. “What do you think they were doing, Laurel?”

“Um… cooking dinner?” Dooley suggested.

“You’ll have to excuse my friend,” I said quickly. “He’s very young and not always familiar with the strange and wonderful habits of humans in love.”

“In love? In lust, you mean. The way they were going at it—”

“Yes, I can see what you mean,” I said, before she painted a vivid and colorful word picture of the kinds of actions Allison and the late Mr. Weaver had been up to that night.

“Well, anyway, it’s not entirely inconceivable that Allison was jealous of Mia and decided she wanted Kirk for herself. And when Kirk didn’t comply, is it so hard to believe that a woman scorned resorted to violence?”

“You mean… a crime passionnel?” I said delicately.

“Bingo, Hardy. And then she made sure that Mia took the blame.”

“But… she did everything she could to make sure the police didn’t get involved.”

“Of course. She doesn’t want the cops to come snooping around and discover she’s the real killer.”

I thought about this. “Mia said she was feeling woozy, and doesn’t remember kneeling next to the body,” I said. “What kinds of pills was she taking that she was so out of it?”

Jasmine smiled. “Now you’re talking, Puss Detective. The kind of pills a person would give her niece to make sure she wouldn’t overhear her aunt murdering her boyfriend, but not powerful enough to prevent her from waking up and stumbling, half asleep, into the next room and come upon the murder scene and implicate herself in the crime.”

“Has your fur always been this white, Jasmine?” asked Dooley now.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, get Laurel away from me,” she said, and I decided to comply before she called me Hardy again.

Besides, I had a feeling she’d told us everything she knew, and a remarkable theory it was, too. I couldn’t wait to tell Odelia.

Before I left the room, though, I turned and said, “Um, maybe one more thing, Jasmine. Was this Kirk guy really a cat whisperer?”

Jasmine laughed scathingly. “Like I told the old lady, no way. The man was a fraud. Pretending to be able to talk to cats while he didn’t understand us one bit. He used to hit me, you know, with a clothes brush? When he thought no one was looking? He landed one hit, then I scratched him across the face. So if anyone wonders where that big red scratch on his nose comes from, you can tell them I did that. And I’m proud of it, too.”

Chapter 9

Alec Lip, Hampton Cove’s chief of police, was sitting at his desk and reading the online version of the Hampton Cove Gazette, more specifically the Gabi column. Only last week he’d sent in an anonymous letter and had eagerly awaited Gabi’s response. But now that the response had finally been posted, he wasn’t sure he agreed with it.

His question had been very short and to the point: ‘Dear Gabi, I’m a fifty-four-year-old widower and have been living alone since my wife died fifteen years ago. Lately I’ve been wondering if I should get out there again. Look for love. There’s someone I like but we work together in a professional capacity, so it’s tricky. What should I do? Lonely Heart.’

The response, now that it had finally been posted, was this: ‘Dear Lonely Heart, if you ask me it’s not your love life that needs a shot in the butt but your professional life. Why don’t you show some ambition? There’s other jobs out there that would suit your talents a lot better than your current one. Mayor, for instance. Something to think about!’

Alec leaned back and patted his thinning mane. It almost seemed to him that Gabi, whoever she was, had guessed who he was and was telling him to drop being chief of police and set his sights on becoming mayor instead. Huh. So weird.

There was a knock at the door and he yelled, “Yeah!”

Chase Kingsley walked in. A handsome cop with one of those square faces and a cleft in his chin that made women’s hearts beat faster, Chase was the precinct’s detective, and smiled when he saw Alec behind his desk, hands on his head and looking annoyed.

“You should really try a hair transplant, Chief. You’ll feel like a new man.”

“Look at this,” Alec grumbled, and turned the screen so Chase could read along.

Chase took a seat at the edge of the desk and scanned the screen, then grinned. “Dating, huh? And who’s the lucky lady?”

Alec’s ruddy face flushed even more. “No lucky lady. Just a general question.”

“Oh, come on, Chief. Are you going to tell me you didn’t have a particular woman…” He leaned in and read from the screen. “… ‘in a professional capacity’ in mind?”

Alec shrugged and said stubbornly, “No particular woman.”

“How about Tracy Sting?”

Tracy was a woman he’d met working a case, but they had lost touch. “Tracy flies all over the world for her job. Very hard to make things work when one of the partners is never in one place for more than a couple of days,” he grumbled.

Suddenly, his phone chimed and he cleared his throat, then picked up. “Yes, Madam Mayor,” he said.

“Chief, help me out here,” Charlene Butterwick’s melodious voice sounded over the airwaves. “There’s a couple of punks peeing in my gardenias. Do you think you could dissuade them from using my lovely flower beds as a urinal?”

He smiled. “Of course, Madam Mayor,” he said.

“What do I have to do to convince you that it’s Charlene, and not Madam Mayor?”

“As soon as you start calling me Alec, I’ll start calling you Charlene, Madam Mayor,” he said, his smile widening. Then he saw Chase’s grin and his smile vanished.

“Just get these kids out of my flowers, will you? I’d hate for visitors to see them. They’ll think we’re running a slum instead of the fine upstanding town that we are.”

“Will do, Madam Mayor,” he growled.

“Thanks, Chief.”

He replaced the receiver and glowered at his second-in-command. “What are you grinning at?”

“I think I know what lady you were referring to in your letter, Chief.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yes, Chief,” said Chase, and made to leave his office.

His phone chimed again and he picked it up, quick as a flash. “I’m on it, Madam Mayor,” he said, then heard Odelia’s voice and relaxed. “Hey, honey. What can I do for you?”

“There’s been a murder, Uncle Alec. At Allison Gray’s place. It’s Kirk Weaver.”

“The cat whisperer?”

“One and the same. So you better get over here. Oh, and it looks like the niece did it? Mia Gray? But I know for a fact that she didn’t. Only, the witness in her defense is a cat, so that’s not going to make a big impression on the judge. So you better think of something.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” he promised her, then disconnected.

Chase, who’d been waiting by the door, asked, “What’s going on?”

“That was Odelia,” said the Chief, getting up from behind his desk. “There’s been a murder, and the most likely suspect has an alibi. Only problem is: her alibi is her cat.”

“Oh, boy.”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

He took his jacket from the coat rack and then they were off, but not before he alerted Abe Cornwall, the county coroner, to join them ASAP. And as they walked out of the precinct, he cast a quick glance in the direction of town hall, which was located across town square. Three young punks were indeed watering Mayor Butterwick’s flower beds with their own bodily fluids. His face set, he started marching over. He recognized two of them as having desecrated his own garage not all that long ago.

But a hand descended on his shoulder, and Chase said, “Better let me handle this one, Chief.”

“But…”

“I’ve got this, buddy,” Chase insisted, and stalked over to the three punks. Alec watched on as Chase told them in no uncertain terms what was what. Reluctantly the three kids jumped on their bikes and rode off.

And as Chase joined him again, the Chief asked, “What did you tell them?”

“That if they didn’t cut it out I was going to send the CCTV footage of their teensy tiny little weenies to their mothers. They didn’t like that.”

Alec smiled. “I would probably have grabbed them by the collar and smacked their bottoms.”

“You can’t do that in this day and age, Chief,” said Chase as they walked over to the Chief’s squad car. “Smacking bottoms is not done. Not politically correct.”

“And sending video of their pee-pees is?”

Chase grinned widely. “Who says I was going to send anything?”

The Chief shook his head. He had to admit that Chase’s solution had probably been more effective than his own. From a window on the second floor of town hall he could see Charlene Butterwick gazing out at them. And when he raised his hand in greeting, she waved back. And as an involuntarily smile crept up his face, he sensed that Chase was looking at him and grinning again like a damn ape.

“She’s my boss!” he said as he buckled up. “I have to say hi.”

“Oh, I know.”

“I’m supposed to be nice to her.”

“Of course you are.”

“Stop grinning, will you?” he grunted, and then started up the car.

Chapter 10

The moment Odelia’s uncle arrived with Chase things became even livelier than they had been. Before long, the coroner also arrived and people in white coveralls were all over the place, examining the crime scene and the body.

Meanwhile Chase, Alec, Gran, Odelia and Scarlett had taken seats in the living room with Allison and Mia, the latter still looking groggy from whatever pills she’d taken.

“So tell us, Miss Gray,” said Uncle Alec, taking charge of the investigation. “Who could possibly have held such a grudge against Mr. Weaver to want the man killed?”

“Oh, I can think of several people,” said Allison, looking a little startled by all the attention she was suddenly subjected to. “There’s the man’s wife, of course. Or I should probably say ex-wife, even though they aren’t officially divorced yet.”

“I hardly think Kirk’s wife would want him dead, Auntie Allison,” said Mia, who was nursing a cup of strong coffee. The smell drifted toward Odelia and she relished in its delicious aroma.

Allison must have caught a whiff, too, for she suddenly said, “Oh, dear goodness me. I’m a terrible hostess. What can I get you, Miss Poole? And you, Chief Alec?”

When the orders were all taken care of, and Allison had relegated them to a member of her household staff, the interview continued.

“So tell me about this ex-wife,” said Chase. “Does she live around here?”

“I think she’s staying in town somewhere, in a hotel,” said Allison. “She should be at home in LA, but when she heard Kirk was here and intending to stay for a couple of weeks, she suddenly flew in and took a room in town, then started bombarding him with messages, and even showed up at the house once or twice, demanding to speak to him.”

“I know women like that,” said Scarlett. “Can’t let go.”

“Oh, it wasn’t like that,” said Allison. “She could let go well enough, but not of Kirk’s fortune. She vehemently contested the terms of the proposed divorce settlement and kept badgering Kirk for a bigger chunk of his fortune, and even his house in LA.”

“We’ll need to talk to the woman,” said Chief Alec as Chase made a note.

“So who else?” asked Odelia. “You said you could think of several people who’d mean Kirk harm?”

“Well…” Allison hesitated, and darted a look at her niece. “There is Kirk’s business partner. You met him once, didn’t you, honey?”

Mia looked up. She’d been gazing into the middle distance and blinked. “You mean that creepy little weasel? Yeah, Kirk and I met him in town last week. I didn’t like him.”

“Well, neither did Kirk, apparently,” said Allison with a nervous little laugh. “He called him a fraud and was trying to terminate their business relationship, which apparently was fraught with a long history of bad business decisions and disagreement.”

“So this business partner, do you have a name?” asked Uncle Alec.

“Yeah, um… Burt. Burt Scofield. Isn’t that right, Mia?”

“Yes,” said Mia, blinking again, as if awakening from a daydream. “Um, he’s staying at the Hampton Cove Star, I think.”

Chase nodded as he jotted all this down.

“So… I don’t get it,” said Mia now. “I told you that I killed Kirk, so why are you looking at other suspects?”

“Honey,” said Allison urgently, then smiled apologetically at the Chief. “Don’t listen to my niece. She’s still under the influence of those sleeping pills she took.”

“Yes, I wanted to ask you about that, Miss Gray,” said Uncle Alec. “Why did you take those pills? And how many did you take, exactly?”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately.”

“I gave her those pills,” said Allison. “They’re mine, and I probably should have told her to take half a pill. I forgot to take into account that Mia is a lot slighter than I am.”

“When I woke up this morning, at first I thought I was dreaming. I was sitting next to Kirk’s body and…” She choked and tears appeared in her eyes. “I haven’t told you this yet, but Kirk and I were dating. I liked him. His death…”

“It’s come as a big shock,” said Uncle Alec kindly.

“Yes, but what I don’t understand is why you’re not arresting me for murder?”

“Did you have reason to kill him, Miss Gray?”

“No, of course not. I liked Kirk. We were having a lot of fun together.”

“We know you didn’t do it, honey,” said Gran, adopting a grandmotherly tone. “A witness has come forward who told us there’s no way you could have done it.”

“A witness?” asked Allison, looking up in surprise. “What witness?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you,” said Gran. “All I can tell you at this point is that Mia didn’t kill Kirk, and that’s why my son isn’t looking at her as a suspect but a witness.”

“But I was right there, next to him,” said Mia. She held up her hands. “There was all this blood. I had to wash them…” Her hands were shaking, her lips quivering.

“There, there,” said her aunt, and put an arm around Mia’s shoulders. She then directed a questioning look at Gran, whose face didn’t betray a thing.

It was like walking a tightrope, and this mystery witness would never be represented in any official police report. Still, it was better for Mia to know exactly where she stood, and that she couldn’t possibly have killed her boyfriend.

Odelia watched as Max and Dooley entered the room, and when Max gestured that he wanted a word, she nodded. He came trudging over while Allison concerned herself with consoling her niece, and when Max spoke his next words, Odelia was more than a little surprised.

“Jasmine thinks Allison did it. She was having an affair with Kirk, and didn’t like the competition. So she killed Kirk in a crime passionnel and set her niece up as the killer.”

Both Odelia and Gran, who’d also heard Max’s words loud and clear, looked up at Allison. The mother of all Gabis must have felt the tension, for she glanced over, and said, innocently, “What?”

Chapter 11

We were outside, taking a walk through the gardens. Odelia had decided she better confront Allison with her accusations without an entire contingent of real and imagined detectives present, and had asked if she could talk to the woman in private.

Scarlett had protested, but Gran had quickly shut her up. And now we were walking along a garden path, birds chirping merrily in nearby trees, the pleasant sound of water burbling in a cozy little brook that meandered through the nicely landscaped garden.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” asked Allison as she darted a curious look at Dooley and myself from time to time. She probably wondered why two cats would faithfully tag along in their human’s trail. We were, after all, not dogs, who are used to that sort of thing.

“I think you haven’t been completely honest with us, have you, Allison?” said Odelia, opening her remarks with a shot across the bow.

Allison immediately bridled. “Of course I’ve been honest! What are you talking about?”

“I think you liked Kirk a lot more than you let on. In fact I think you and Kirk were having an affair behind your niece’s back.”

Allison pressed her lips together and froze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said primly.

“Oh, I think you do. The same witness who told my grandmother that Mia couldn’t possibly have killed Kirk told us she once walked in on you and Kirk in the kitchen, and you weren’t exactly making pancakes on the kitchen counter.”

Allison stared at Odelia. “Someone walked in on me and Kirk? But… that’s impossible!”

“Our witness is adamant. She says you and Kirk did things on that kitchen counter that would make Lady Chatterley’s lover blush.”

“Who’s Lady Chatterley, Max?” asked Dooley, not missing a beat.

“Um… I think it’s one of those great heroes of romance,” I said, though to be honest I’d never personally made this particular lady’s acquaintance or seen her movie on the Hallmark Channel.

Instead of Lady Chatterley or her lover, it was Allison who was blushing at Odelia’s words. “Well,” she said finally. “Well, really.”

“Is it true, though?” asked Odelia.

Allison hesitated for a moment, then finally sighed. “Yes, it’s true. But please,” she immediately implored, “don’t say anything to Mia. It will break her heart. I think she was in love with Kirk, probably hoping he’d propose, the silly girl.”

“Why silly?”

But Allison gave her a pointed look, and Odelia immediately said, “Silly of me. Of course he wasn’t going to propose, if he was engaged in a torrid affair with you.”

We’d reached a little iron bench and both women sank down onto it, with Dooley and me deciding to lie down on the grass, which was soft and cool. It tickled my belly a little, but that’s what I like about grass. Plus, it smells nice.

“Look, it wasn’t as if I planned any of this,” said Allison. “It simply happened. In fact I had no idea he was carrying on with Mia until last week, when she happily revealed they were in a relationship. It came as quite a shock to me, I must confess, to know I was having an affair with the same man my niece was hoping to marry. And then of course the man was still married to his wife, too. And it wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t still have… relations with her at the same time he was carrying on with me and Mia.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I once saw him walk out of his ex-wife’s hotel.”

“Why didn’t you break it off?”

“I was going to. I was going to tell him this couldn’t possibly go on like this. He’d have to choose: me, his wife or Mia, and not keep us all in the air like so many juggling balls.”

“He must have had quite the libido,” Odelia commented.

“Yes, he had stamina, I have to give him that.”

“Did you love him?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Let’s just say we supplied each other a certain… service. He was a fiery lover, and it had been years since anyone had made love to me quite so vigorously. But I had no feelings for the man, just like he had no feelings for me.”

“Did he love Mia, you think?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“But she had feelings for him.”

“Yes, it was obvious to me that she loved him with all the fervor of youth. It pained me to see her pining for the man, and I knew that sooner or later he was going to break her heart, the poor dear. But what could I do?”

“You could have told him to leave.”

“Mia would have hated me for it.”

“She would have hated you whatever you did.”

“Yes, that’s true,” said the woman, then laughed. “The irony doesn’t escape me, Miss Poole. Me, the first Gabi, chairwoman of the AAA, making a mess of things like that.”

Odelia looked the woman straight in the eye. “Did you kill Kirk, Allison? Because he wouldn’t stop sleeping with your niece?”

Allison nodded, and I held my breath. I had a feeling she was going to confess. But then she said, “I can see how you would think that. But no, I didn’t kill Kirk.”

“You didn’t have a big fight and accidentally—”

“Oh, a crime passionnel?” She laughed. “You think too much of me, Odelia. I didn’t love the man enough to commit murder. Was I upset with him? Of course I was, not for my sake but for Mia’s. And did I fight with him when I found out? Yes, I did. But that was last week, when I gave him an ultimatum: either stop fooling around with Mia and get serious, or break it off with her. He did neither, and I’d planned to have another strongly worded talk with him tonight. But someone killed him before I could.”

“And that killer wasn’t you.”

“That killer wasn’t me. Besides, you can ask your grandmother. When Kirk was killed I was downstairs talking to her and Scarlett.”

“I think the coroner’s report will show that Kirk was killed before my grandmother arrived,” Odelia argued.

“Well, arrest me if you must, but I swear to you that I had nothing to do with the man’s death.”

“I believe her,” said Dooley, and unfortunately I had to admit she sounded very convincing to me, too. And Odelia must have come to the same conclusion, for she smiled and placed a hand on the woman’s arm.

“I think you should tell Mia, before she hears it from someone else, or reads about it online.”

Allison nodded. “I know. It’s a conversation I’ve been dreading for days.”

“Make it soon,” Odelia advised her.

“I just hope she won’t hate me forever.”

“She won’t. Not when she realizes what kind of man Kirk Weaver really was.”

“What kind of man was Kirk?” asked Dooley.

“I think the word for a person like him is womanizer,” I said as Odelia and Allison got up and resumed their perambulation.

“A womanizer?”

“A man who carries on with several women at the same time, or one after the other, and can’t seem to settle down with a single one of them.”

“So do you think there were more women in his life, Max?”

“Could be, Dooley,” I said.

“So maybe one of them killed him?”

I glanced at my friend. “You know, Dooley. I think you’re on to something there. We better tell Odelia.”

We followed the two women from a distance as we enjoyed our stroll. It was better than being cooped up inside the house with a dead man upstairs. The only thing marring what could have been a perfect walk was the fact that my tummy was rumbling. I was hungry, but had been afraid to tell Odelia. She would have told Allison, who would have offered us some of Jasmine’s food. And the last thing I wanted was to snack on Jasmine’s kibble and watch the Persian walk in on us in the kitchen. I was pretty sure she would have scratched us across our faces where we sat, same way she’d scratched Kirk.

“So weird, though, right?” I said. “I mean, a cat whisperer who doesn’t like cats, and uses a hairbrush to hit them when they don’t do as he says. A family man who’s secretly conducting affairs with his client and his client’s niece at the same time. It makes you wonder what other things this Kirk Weaver had to hide.”

“I don’t think he was a nice man,” said Dooley, and that pretty much summed it up.

Chapter 12

That night, Chase sat reading on his phone while Odelia brushed her teeth in the bathroom. He was frowning at the screen. Like apparently all of Hampton Cove, he’d sent in a question for the Gazette’s advice column and the answer had just been posted online. His question had been straightforward enough: ‘Dear Gabi, I’ve been engaged to be married for quite some time now, but for some reason I can’t seem to bring myself to lock down a date for the wedding. Something always seems to crop up and the time is never right. What do you think I should do? Burning Heart.’

The answer had surprised him: ‘Dear Burning Heart, instead of whining about your engagement you should urge your future uncle-in-law to show some more ambition in life and further his political career. Being stuck in a dead-end job as he is, it’s time to supercharge his ambitions and take the reins of this town firmly in both hands.’

Somehow he had the impression that whoever this Gabi person was, she’d somehow guessed who he was, and wanted him to push Alec to… do what, exactly? Run for mayor?

Then he dismissed the thought. Still, he wasn’t any the wiser, which irked him.

Odelia walked in from the bathroom and got into bed. She was also frowning.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked. “Still thinking about the case?”

“Yeah, I was wondering if Allison told me the truth or not. How can you tell, Chase, if a person is speaking the truth? Or lying to your face?”

“Very tough call,” he agreed. “There have been moments perps lied to my face and I thought they were absolutely truthful. And there have been times when I was sure the person on the other side of the table was lying while he was actually telling the truth.”

“You would think that I’d had developed an instinct for this kind of thing by now, but I’m still clueless.”

“By the way, what were your grandmother and Scarlett doing at Allison Gray’s place?”

“Gran said she applied for a job. Cat sitter. Though Scarlett told me a different story. She said Allison invited them. She’s been thinking about moving here permanently and wants to get involved in Hampton Cove’s social scene. She’d heard from her housekeeper that both Gran and Scarlett are plugged into all kinds of committees and local organizations and wanted to get to know them.”

“I didn’t know your gran was a member of any committees.”

“She isn’t. Too ornery to be tolerated for more than a single meeting. And Scarlett rubs people the wrong way with her provocative behavior and manhunting ways.”

“I would have liked to have seen your grandmother’s face when she and Scarlett showed up at the same time.”

“They seem to be getting on better. Maybe they’ve finally decided to make peace.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” said Chase. “Hell will freeze over before those two bury the hatchet. I think they secretly enjoy their feud.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Did I tell you that Scarlett knows we can talk to cats now? She heard Gran talk to Jasmine and told her that if she doesn’t allow her to tag along on this investigation she’ll tell the whole town.”

“That’s not very nice of her.”

“No, it isn’t. Though I don’t think she’ll actually do it. She knows Gran would simply deny everything and people will think she’s simply spreading gossip to make Gran look bad.”

Odelia had picked up her phone and was reading something.

“Whatcha reading?” asked Chase, trying to catch a glimpse. But Odelia held the phone away from him and smiled.

“Just an article Dan wrote about a reading at the library. Where are my cats?”

“I saw them take off earlier.”

“Cat choir, probably.”

“Yeah, probably.” He cleared his throat. “Um… you know how we said we’d go out to dinner?”

“Yeah, for some reason something always seems to come up when we do. Maybe next time we simply don’t make any plans but decide last minute?”

“I’d like that. There’s… something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh? Pray tell, Mr. Kingsley.”

He laughed. “Not now.”

Odelia nodded. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What?”

“Like the man said, ‘Not now.’”

“Fair enough.”

And as Chase turned off the light and Odelia snuggled up to him, he wondered if he should send another message to Gabi, asking her advice. How do you ask a woman to marry you when you’ve already asked her to marry you?

Tough proposition.

Half an hour later, Odelia was listening to Chase’s even breathing, and took her phone again. She’d posted another question for Gabi, and an answer had popped up on the site.

Her question had read: ‘Dear Gabi. My boyfriend proposed to me a couple of months ago, and since then, nothing. Do you think I should maybe ask him to get a move on or is that not something you’d recommend? Or maybe he got cold feet and doesn’t want to go through with it after all? Please advise. Thanks. Anxious Heart.’

‘Dear Anxious Heart,’ Gabi’s response read. ‘Don’t you worry about that big lug. Instead tell that uncle of yours to get his lazy ass out of his chair and show some initiative. The political kind. He should have been mayor of this town a long time ago!’

And as Odelia put her phone down, she vowed to have a talk with Dan the next day. This new Gabi was giving some really strange advice, she felt. Almost… too personal.

Chapter 13

Hampton Cove was finally asleep, which meant that its feline population had the streets to itself, and more particularly its park. Hampton Cove Park, which is located not all that far from the ocean, may be a hive of human activity during the day, at night it’s our domain, and so it was now, with all of the town’s feline inhabitants flocking to.

Easily the most popular social gathering in town, cat choir is just an excuse for us cats to gather around and shoot the breeze.

Of course we also like to roam the streets of an evening, with some cats enjoying the darkly lit back alleys and the sizable dumpsters this town boasts, and where usually some nugget of food or leftover dinners can be found. But when all that strenuous activity is over, there’s only one place to be and it was where we were now.

Harriet and Brutus, who’d been conspicuously silent about where they’d spent their day, were there, and so was Kingman, and of course Shanille, cat choir’s conductor.

Kingman, in particular, was in excellent spirits. He kept telling anyone who’d listen that the Hampton Cove Gazette had instituted its first-ever feline advice columnist, and for all cats to share their questions with him, and he’d deliver them to the right place.

I decided to sidle up to Kingman to find out more about this momentous occasion, and also, maybe, glean some information about the womanizing and now very dead Kirk Weaver.

“So who is this new columnist?” I asked.

Kingman smiled. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out, Maxie.”

“Which is why I’m asking you, Kingman. It must be someone who’s both wise and extremely smart, right?”

“Right,” he said, continuing mysterious.

“So is this pet Gabi a he or a she?”

“First of all, why would you automatically assume her name is Gabi, and secondly, you should go to the source, Max. And the source is right… there.” He was pointing to Harriet, for some reason, and I frowned. “Harriet is the new Gabi?”

“Like I said, her name isn’t Gabi. It’s Chloe, and even though Harriet isn’t her, she knows who she is, so you better ask her.”

And to show me that the conversation was over, he turned away to talk to three very pretty female felines.

And I hadn’t even managed to broach the topic of Kirk Weaver. Darn it.

So I walked over to Harriet, who stood shooting the breeze with Shanille.

“So I hear you’re the go-to person to find out all there is to know about Chloe?” I said.

Shanille made a face. “Can you believe that Kingman is telling the entire town that I’m Chloe? While I haven’t even heard the first thing about this new position.”

“If you’re not Chloe,” I said. “Then who is?”

Shanille shrugged. “Beats me. But it must be someone very smart. Dan wouldn’t give this high-profile job to just any old cat unless he knows she’s up to the task.”

“So who do you think it is?” I asked Harriet, but Harriet didn’t seem to have a clue, either, which only left Odelia, who was sure to know who this mystery cat was. I vowed to ask her in the morning, and for now focus on finding out more about Kirk Weaver. Before I could ask Shanille, though, she’d traipsed off, presumably to prepare tonight’s songbook. And so it was that I found myself chatting with Harriet.

“So who do you think Chloe is, Max?” she asked.

“No idea,” I intimated. I glanced around, wondering who I could talk to about Kirk.

“But we’ve already established it must be someone very smart and wise, right?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, the topic no longer gripping me.

“And are you absolutely sure you don’t know a cat like that?” she asked.

“No, actually I don’t,” I said. “Listen, can we change the subject? I have a murder to solve.”

She seemed a little annoyed at that, so I quickly decided to rope her into the investigation. But when I gave her the skinny on Kirk Weaver and the events as they’d transpired at Allison’s place, she gave me scant attention. In the end she returned to her initial topic of conversation. “There must be someone in your circle of friends and acquaintances who fits the bill, though, Max.”

“Fits the bill for what?” I asked.

“For Chloe, of course. Who is she, Max? Think hard.”

I thought hard, but couldn’t come up with a single name. “I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I don’t know anyone who’s that smart, intelligent and wise. No one comes to mind.”

“Oh, Max,” she suddenly snapped, her eyes a little fierier than usual. “Sometimes you can be such a jerk, you know?”

And with these words, she stalked off.

Odd, I felt, but not unusual. Harriet is prone to these outbursts from time to time. So I decided to ignore her and go in search of my wingman Dooley. There was a theory I wanted to discuss with him. I bumped into Kingman instead, who gave me a curious look. “I heard you’re out looking for Kirk Weaver’s killer?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Anything you can tell me about him?”

“Well… the weird thing is that I thought he was already dead.”

“No, he died this morning. Killed with a knife to the chest.”

“Odd,” said Kingman, frowning as he thought back. “I heard a rumor not that long ago that Kirk Weaver was about to die, or had died. But now I can’t remember who told me.”

“When you remember, tell me. It’s important,” I said, clapping him on the back.

“I will,” he said, clearly perturbed that his memory was failing him to such an extent. Then his face cleared. “Say, listen, Max. Don’t you have a question for Chloe?”

“No, I don’t,” I said.

“Oh, come on. You must have a question. Big feline detective like you? Tell me.”

I groaned inwardly. All this Chloe and Gabi stuff wasn’t really my thing. Still, to humor my friend I thought for a moment. “Oh, there’s one thing I always wanted to know,” I finally said as a brainwave suddenly hit me.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“The thing is… I’ve been a confirmed bachelor for a long time, right?”

“Uh-huh. And good for you, Max. At least one cat should set an example that life consists of more than flirting with every single female in town,” he said as he winked at a pretty feline walking by. She giggled excitedly.

“Well… sometimes I wonder if being a bachelor is the right approach. They say there’s a lid for every pot. Is that actually a thing, or just one of those things people say? I’m just asking for a friend, you see.”

“Deep, Max,” said Kingman, nodding. “Very deep. I’ll be sure to pass it on to Chloe.”

“You do that, and let me know when she responds.”

I felt lighter on my feet when I went in search of Dooley. It wasn’t one of those questions I really needed answered right away, but it was something I’d wondered.

I finally found Dooley, seated on the jungle gym and waiting for the show to begin.

“Oh, there you are, buddy,” I said. “I was looking for you.”

“I just talked to Brutus,” he said. “He wanted to know if I had a question for Chloe.”

“And? Do you have a question for Chloe?” I asked as I took a seat next to him.

“Well, there’s one thing that keeps bugging me, Max,” he said. “One of those questions that cats have probably asked themselves since time immemorial, you know?”

“Mh-mh?” I said, figuring it probably had something to do with the meaning of life.

“I really hope Chloe knows the answer, Max, because it’s been keeping me up at night, you know?”

“Sure,” I said. “So what’s the question?”

“Well, you know how we discussed static electricity? And how it leads to babies?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, while I thought, ‘Uh-oh.’

“And how the more hair a cat has, the more static electricity is created?”

“Okay.”

“Well, if that is true, and I think it is, why is it that Harriet doesn’t have a dozen kittens by now? She’s very hairy, Max, and sometimes when I get close to her I can feel the static electricity just coming off her in waves.”

“We talked about this, Dooley. Harriet is spayed, which means she can’t have babies.”

He stared at me. “But… babies come from electricity, Max, we established that this morning. So what does being spayed have to do with anything?”

I swallowed uncomfortably. “Did you… did you ask the question to Chloe?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well, then,” I said, relaxing. “Let’s see what she has to say. I’m sure that if anyone knows the answer to that frankly fascinating question it’s her.”

“I’m glad I asked the question, Max,” he said earnestly.

“Me, too, buddy. Me, too. In fact from now on, whenever you have an important question like that, ask Chloe. I’m sure she’ll be able to answer every single one of them.”

A new era had arrived. An era in which I wouldn’t have to answer Dooley’s tough questions anymore. And as I silently thanked Chloe for her service, soon I was singing my heart out along with the rest of cat choir. The only thing that diminished my enjoyment to some degree were the dirty looks Harriet kept darting in my direction.

I had no idea why she was angry with me. Maybe I should ask Chloe?

Chapter 14

The next morning, Odelia walked to her editor’s office and knocked on the door before entering. Dan looked up from his computer. “You’re early,” he said, sounding surprised.

“I could say the same about you,” she said with a smile. It was still gratifying to her after all these years working for Dan that they were more like friends than employer and employee. Dan had never been a difficult boss, but now he was more like an honorary dad to her than an employer, and that’s the way she liked it. She wouldn’t have been able to work in an office where she was treated like a nameless underling.

“So what’s this I hear about a murder taking place at Allison Gray’s place?”

“Yeah, none other than Mr. Cat Whisperer himself was found dead by Allison’s niece yesterday. Pretty gruesome stuff.”

“Any idea who’s behind it?” asked the white-bearded editor as he put his hands behind his head.

“Nothing yet, but we’re working on it.  You’ve heard nothing yourself? Any rumors about the guy flying around?”

“Only that he was going through a rough divorce and his wife followed him down here. She’s staying at the Hampton Cove Star.”

“I thought as much. Chase and I are going down there later to talk to her. Listen, what I wanted to ask you. Are you still refusing to tell me who the new advice columnist is?”

The older man’s face creased into a big smile. “Why? Don’t you like her advice? Or like it a little too well?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just that it’s… weird.”

“Weird, how?”

“Well, I asked about my engagement with Chase, right? But she said something about my uncle running for mayor instead. The answer doesn’t seem to fit the question. And besides, how did Gabi even know that I have an uncle? It’s almost as if she knew who I was. Which means it must be someone from around here, right? And you always told me you hired the new Gabi online and she works from home in the Midwest somewhere.”

Dan had dropped his chin on his chest and was frowning. “I’ll have to talk to her about that. That is indeed a weird answer.” He looked up. “I could give you her name but it wouldn’t mean anything to you anyway, so…”

“All right, fine,” she said. “Have your little secret.” She dragged out a chair and took a seat. “There’s something else I wanted to run by you.”

“Oh? By all means, shoot. You know how much I value your ideas, Odelia.”

“Well, I was thinking about launching a second advice column, but this one devoted to pets. You know how people love their pets, right?”

“Oh, and how they love them. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, we could start a column with pets writing in and asking questions, and then another pet, like a cat, maybe, responding. It would be like a playful column and I think all pet owners would love it. We could have some fun with it.”

“I like it already,” he said. “Pets answering pets. Love it. And you’d write both the questions and the answers, I presume?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, it’s not as if pets can actually send in their questions. Haha.”

“Haha,” he said. “No, of course not.” He gave her an intent look that made her slightly uncomfortable and momentarily wonder if Dan knew about her ability to talk to cats.

“Yeah, no, let’s do it,” he said. “And what would you call this particular agony aunt?”

“I was thinking about Chloe?”

“Great. Go for it. You have my wholehearted support.”

She got up, happy he’d agreed. When Harriet had brought the idea to her last night, she’d loved it immediately, too. It was something fresh she didn’t think had been done before. And they could even address some serious topics, things that every pet owner ought to know or watch out for, like diseases or what kind of food to give their fur babies. And if there were any medical questions she could consult with their local vet.

“Oh, by the way, my grandmother and Scarlett are also investigating the Kirk Weaver case,” she said. “For some reason they just happened to be at Allison’s last night. Something to do with Allison wanting to expand her social footprint in town?”

“What a coincidence,” said Dan, and for some reason didn’t meet her eye.

Odd, she thought, but forgot about it the moment she left his office. She had the Chloe thing to plan out, and an article to write about Kirk’s murder, and she’d agreed to meet with Chase for the interview with the man’s wife. Lots and lots to do. And as she sat down, she saw that Harriet had joined her in her office, and had jumped up on her desk.

She smiled. “Hello, Dear Chloe. Ready to launch your column?”

“Oh, you betcha,” said Harriet. “And I have the perfect opening questions. They’re from Max and Dooley, and you’re going to love them.”

Chapter 15

“Some of these answers are really bad, Vesta,” said Scarlett as she threw down a copy of the Gazette. “For instance this one. ‘Dear Gabi. My boyfriend doesn’t like cats. What does that say about him? Furry Heart.’ And your response? ‘Any boyfriend who doesn’t like cats isn’t worth looking at twice. In fact I’d say he’s probably a serial killer. Only serial killers don’t like cats. So better break it off now, before you find yourself lying six feet under, with multiple parts of your mutilated body missing.’” She looked up.

“So? A perfectly reasonable answer to the girl’s question,” said Vesta.

They were seated in the window of a nice little coffee shop right across the street from the Hampton Cove Star hotel, keeping a look out for Kirk Weaver’s ex-wife.

“Reasonable! Not all people love cats, Vesta. And not all people who don’t love cats are serial killers.”

“In all likelihood they are, so I think I did Furry Heart a favor. Probably saved her life.”

“Look, you can’t give bullshit answers like that. It reflects badly on me, too, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Vesta as she took a sip from her cup of hot cocoa and nibbled from her cream puff. Delicious. She could get used to this detective stuff, if all it took was sitting in coffee shops all day watching people. The only drawback was that she had to do it with Scarlett, who simply would not shut up.

“Or this one,” said Scarlett, tapping the paper. “I met a guy last week who’s just perfect. Good-looking, courteous, funny. I met him through Tinder and one of his requirements was ‘Must love dogs.’ So I said I love dogs, though really I don’t. Should I come clean? I don’t want to lose him. He’s just so great. Confused Heart.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that one,” said Vesta.

“Your response: ‘Dump his ass. Anyone who demands that you must love dogs is probably a serial killer. Get out now before it’s too late, Confused Heart, and get a cat.’”

Vesta smiled. “Yeah. That was a good one.”

“You’re crazy! I’m your fellow Gabi and you’re sullying my good name!”

“You don’t have a good name to sully, Scarlett, so get off my back.”

“I think you’re so obsessed with cats that you can’t think straight. What’s wrong with dogs, anyway? I have a perfectly wonderful little doggie, and I love him to death.”

“Of course you do,” said Vesta acerbically.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“One of these days you’re going to find yourself missing a throat, drowning in your own blood. Dogs are vicious creatures with a brain the size of a pea. Everybody knows that.”

“Oh, do they now?”

“Yes, they do. At least if they have any sense.”

“Well, I happen to be a dog person.”

Vesta scoffed, “Figures.”

“I’m going to ignore that crack. Look, I’m Gabi just as much as you are, and if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were looking for a way to get us both fired from this job.”

“I am not. I like this job.”

“Well, so do I, so please next time when people ask you for advice, give it to them.”

“You should talk,” said Vesta, and took out her phone. “Concerned Heart asked this question last week. ‘Dear Gabi, my mother is seventy years old and still insists on walking around looking like a teenager, in short shorts short enough to show her underwear and in T-shirts that show all of her boobs. What should I do?’ And your answer? ‘Stop trying to ruin your mother’s life, Concerned Heart. If she wants to dress like a real woman and has the body to pull it off, let her. And maybe instead of criticizing your mom you should focus on that no-good husband of yours. He looks like a slob.’”

Scarlett shrugged. “Okay, so maybe I went a little overboard with that one. It’s just that Vicky Kemper is always going on about her mom, and she really shouldn’t.”

“You know what I think?”

“Not really.”

“I think Vicky’s question hit a little too close to home. You’re seventy years old, Scarlett, and you walk around dressed like a fifteen-year-old. It’s not age-appropriate.”

“And who decides what’s age-appropriate and what’s not? Whose business is it anyway? Tell me that! Like I told Vicky Kemper, if you have the body to pull it off, why the hell shouldn’t you?” And to underscore her argument, she pushed out her sizable chest.

Vesta rolled her eyes and took another sip from her cocoa. “Oh, wait. I think that’s her!” She’d looked Kirk’s wife up on the internet and now glanced from the picture on her phone to the woman who’d just walked out of the Star, looking left and right before crossing the street.

“Let’s go get her!” said Scarlett.

They threw down the money for their drinks and hurried out, Scarlett having a little trouble on her stiletto heels, which Vesta had explicitly told her the day before not to wear, and they got out just as Kirk’s ex-wife passed them by.

“Let’s see what she’s up to,” said Vesta as she switched into high pursuit mode.

“This is so exciting!” Scarlett tittered. “I’ve never done surveillance before!”

“Neither have I,” Vesta confessed.

“But you’ve helped out your granddaughter so many times, right?”

“Yeah, but never surveillance.”

“So how do we do this? We just follow her wherever she goes?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the idea. We want to know what she’s up to before we talk to her. That way we can trap her into some lie or whatever.”

Oh, who was she kidding? She was making this up as she went along. She wasn’t a detective, and neither was Scarlett. Still, she was determined to get her man, or woman, if it killed her, and clearly so was Scarlett.

Kirk’s ex-wife, whose name was Sandy according to the interwebs, was setting a brisk pace as she traversed Main Street on her way to God knows where.

“What if she gets into a car?” asked Scarlett.

“Then we get into a car, too.”

“What if she sees us?”

“She won’t. Nobody expects two old ladies to turn out to be private dicks.”

“Hey, speak for yourself. I’m no old lady.”

It was true that Scarlett certainly didn’t look like an old lady. More like a weathered Kim Kardashian.

“I shouldn’t have worn heels,” Scarlett grumbled now.

“See? I told you. Sneakers are a detective’s uniform.”

“I’m learning so much from you, Vesta. Who would have thought, huh?”

“Who would have thought what?”

“That you and I would work together catching killers one day!”

She halted abruptly. “Let’s make one thing clear, all right? We’re not working together. You’re trying to catch this killer, I’m trying to catch this killer. Separately.”

“But then why are we going in the same direction?”

“Coincidence,” said Vesta, as she started walking again before they lost Sandy Weaver.

“Whatever you say, partner,” said Scarlett.

Vesta groaned. This was probably what hell looked like.

Sandy kept moving fast, and suddenly walked into a building.

“Now what?” said Scarlett, annoyed that their quarry would so easily escape them.

“Relax. She’s not going anywhere.” She gestured to a sign next to the door that announced this was the home of Lewis, Lewis, Lewis & Clark, attorneys at law.

“Probably wants to know about her inheritance,” Scarlett ventured.

“Yeah, probably.”

“I wish I could hear what she’s discussing with Lewis, Lewis, Lewis or Clark,” said Scarlett wistfully.

“Maybe there is a way,” said Vesta as she got an idea. She glanced at Scarlett and then at the nameplate. “Okay, so we’re sisters.”

Scarlett quirked a critical eyebrow. “Oh, sure.”

“Okay, so we’re mother and daughter,” she said grudgingly.

“Better.”

“And we’re here to discuss my will. You just keep the lawyer busy, while I sneak off, pretending to look for the bathroom. And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to eavesdrop on Sandy and one of the Lewises.”

“Or Clark.” Scarlett smiled. “You’re on fire, Vesta!”

Chapter 16

Once inside, Vesta wasn’t surprised to find a small but immaculately neat lobby, where a gray-haired receptionist bade them welcome. She decided to let Scarlett do the talking, which the latter did with fervor.

“My dear mother is on the verge of death,” she explained to the woman, who’d first directed a critical eye at Scarlett’s trademark cleavage, but now lent her a sympathetic ear. “She’s eighty going on a hundred and probably won’t be with us for much longer.”

When the secretary darted a concerned look at Vesta, Scarlett assured her that her mother was practically deaf.

“I’m not dead yet!” Vesta yelled, a little annoyed.

“Deaf!” Scarlett yelled back. “I said you’re deaf! See what I have to deal with?” she added with a sigh. “The worst thing is that she doesn’t want to wear her hearing aid. She keeps flushing them down the toilet so I simply stopped bothering.”

“But those things cost a fortune!” said the woman, horrified.

Scarlett paused. Obviously she hadn’t been aware of that. “Which is exactly why I stopped bothering!” she said.

“You should,” said the woman. “Flushing them down the toilet, if you please.”

“Anyway, I want a lawyer to help me draw up Mama’s will, in case she dies on me, which could be any moment now.”

“Are you sure it’s worth it?” asked the woman, looking Vesta up and down. It was clear she didn’t think Vesta looked prosperous enough to be in need of a will.

“Yeah, she has her own place and wants me to have it, but my estranged brother, who’s a mafia boss in Kazakhstan, will probably try to take it away from me the moment Mama passes, and so we need a lawyer to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“The mafia is just the worst,” said the woman, as if she was an expert on all things mafia. “Let me see what I can do for you.”

“Where’s the bathroom?!” Vesta yelled, as this was taking entirely too long for her taste.

“I hope you’re not thinking about flushing your hearing aid down the toilet again!” the woman bellowed, with a commiserative look at Scarlett. “It’s over there!”

Vesta hurried off in the direction indicated, and could just hear Scarlett say, “She’s a dear, even though her mind went a long time ago.”

Vesta ground her teeth as she went in search of the lawyers’ offices and Sandy Weaver. Since she was officially non compos now, she could simply say when they caught her eavesdropping that she was looking for her marbles.

She found herself in a long corridor and tread silently on her white sneakers along the carpeted floor until she thought she heard voices. She put her ear against the panel and bingo! A woman was talking. She tried to hear what she said but the damn door was too thick. She wondered for a moment how to proceed, then got another idea. She knocked on the door of the next office and when no response came, snuck inside. As luck would have it, it was empty. So she darted behind the large mahogany desk and put her ear against the wall. Nope. Only faint murmurs.

She glanced around, until she saw that there was a vent placed in the wall. So she dragged the heavy desk over with a lot of effort, climbed on top of it, and put her ear against the vent. Immediately the sound improved, and this time she could hear what was being said. Eagerly licking her lips, she focused on the voices.

“He died, Franklin. So I think I have a right to know how much I’m getting.”

“But Mrs. Weaver, this is not the way to proceed.”

“And I’m telling you it is. If the divorce had been finalized, I’d have received half of everything, you know that as well as I do.”

“Actually I don’t. Mr. Weaver fought you vigorously and was vehement you not get a dime.”

“Well, he’s dead now, so are you really going to sit there and tell me I still don’t get a dime?”

The lawyer cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I’m not sure if I’m at liberty—”

“Oh, cut the crap, Franklin. How much?”

“I’m sure I can’t—”

“How much!”

A lawyerly cough sounded, and finally the man spoke. “Brace yourself for some bad news, Mrs. Weaver. I’m afraid Mr. Weaver was on the verge of bankruptcy.”

There was a stunned silence for a moment, then, “You have got to be shitting me.”

“I can assure you that I am not ‘shitting’ you, Mrs. Weaver. Your husband made some extremely ill-advised investments, and by the time he moved to Hampton Cove and engaged the services of this office he was in the hole for a large sum of money.”

“How much?” asked Sandy quietly.

“I’d have to check the numbers.”

“But what about the house? Don’t tell me he sold the house?”

“Mr. Weaver was mortgaged to the hilt. The house will go to the creditors, I’m afraid, as will everything else he owned. And even then it won’t be enough to pay off his debts.”

Behind Vesta, a door opened, and before she could get down from the desk, one of the Lewises, or maybe it was Clark, cried, “My dear lady, what on earth are you doing?”

“I was looking for the bathroom!” she yelled.

“Surely you didn’t expect to find it up there!”

“What?! I’m deaf! Flushed my last hearing aid down the toilet!”

“Please get down from there at once!” the man demanded, so she did as she was told.

But before he could kick her out, Scarlett appeared in the door, looking pleased as punch. “Mama! What were you thinking!” And to the lawyer, “Please excuse my mother, sir. She’s not completely there anymore.”

The lawyer, when he caught sight of Scarlett’s dazzling décolletage, swayed for a moment, clearly in the grip of an acute attack of vertigo. By the time he’d gotten a grip, Scarlett was already leading her ‘mother’ away, loudly yelling, “You can’t go into these nice people’s offices like this, Mama! What are they going to think?!”

They passed the reception desk just as Sandy was being led out, and by the time they were out on the street, and once again following the widow of the dearly departed Mr. Weaver, Scarlett whooped, “That was sooooo amazing! What did you find out?”

“That Kirk was completely broke, and left nothing but debts to his widow, even though she thought he was leaving her a fortune.”

“Kirk Weaver was broke?”

“Bad investments.”

“Wow. Poor woman.”

“Okay, let’s do this,” said Vesta, and sped up until she was walking next to Sandy.

“Mrs. Weaver? My name is Vesta Muffin and this is my associate Scarlett Canyon. We’re private dicks investigating the death of your husband. Can we ask you a couple of questions?”

At first it looked as if Sandy was about to say no, but then she relented.

“Oh, all right,” she said, and followed Vesta and Scarlett into the same coffee shop they’d used to stake out the hotel before.

Chapter 17

The day was a little strange, I must admit. Usually when Odelia is in the throes of a murder investigation she likes to take us along wherever she goes, hoping we can talk to a pet witness or somehow snoop out some hidden clue that will help her catch the killer.

Today, though, she’d left that morning without a word, and hadn’t returned since.

So we just sat there, at home, wondering if perhaps she’d already caught the killer and didn’t need us anymore.

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if there wasn’t anything else to do. For one thing, I was keeping an eye on Odelia’s tablet to see if the illustrious Chloe had already started her stint as Hampton Cove’s pet advisor at the Gazette. Dooley had asked a question, I had asked a question, and it was reasonable to assume answers were forthcoming. So I kept refreshing the front page of the Gazette and hoping to see something appear there.

And then of course there was the mouse problem we were faced with. Last time the mice had selected Marge’s basement for their own, before absconding to the neighbors, but now it appeared as if they were back, and this time had picked Odelia’s basement.

“Why do mice like basements so much, Max?” asked Dooley, who’d been pondering the same question.

“I think it’s because they think they can more easily hide there from the likes of us,” I said. “Everyone knows that cats’ original role when they joined humans all those thousands of years ago was to catch the mice that ate humans’ grain supply. In exchange for shelter and food, they did humans that little favor and now, so many millennia later, they still expect us to offer them the same courtesy. Only cats have evolved, haven’t they? They’ve become civilized, and aren’t as keen to act as their humans’ killing machines.”

“I wouldn’t like to kill a mouse, Max,” Dooley intimated. “I don’t think I’d like it. Live and let live is my motto, and even mice have a right to live and breed, don’t you agree?”

“I do agree, Dooley, in principle. But when they start breeding like crazy and have hundreds of the little critters running amok, I think maybe it’s time for a strong-worded talk to the feisty little fellas.”

Suddenly the pet flap flapped and Harriet and Brutus walked in.

“So what are we going to do about the mice, you guys?” I asked, deciding that maybe Harriet had picked up a few tricks last time she went into battle with the murine colony.

“Who cares?” said Harriet. “Besides, maybe you should ask a smart cat. A wise cat. An intelligent cat. I’m neither smart nor wise nor intelligent, so why ask me?” And with these words she trudged off in the direction of the kitchen and tucked into her bowl.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked Brutus.

“No idea,” said Brutus, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“I think she doesn’t want to catch those mice either,” said Dooley. “Harriet is a peaceable cat, like us, and she hates the idea of causing those poor little creatures harm.”

“Any ideas, Brutus?” I asked. “To get rid of the mice?”

“None,” he said, darting a nervous look in the direction of the kitchen.

“So did you ask a question?” I asked, deciding to change the topic, since the original one obviously failed to grip.

“Ask what question?” asked Brutus.

“To the new pet oracle. Chloe?” I specified when he gave me a blank look.

“Oh, yeah, right. No, actually I haven’t. I don’t really have any questions at the moment.”

“I asked a very important question,” said Dooley. “And I really hope to get an answer.”

Harriet had returned and just then, to my surprise, a new column suddenly popped up on the Gazette’s site. ‘Chloe’s Pet to Pet,’ it read. And I hunkered down for a read.

“It’s my question!” I cried, and read aloud. “Dear Chloe. Is it safe to say that there’s a lid for every pot, or is this just a myth? Asking for a friend. Answer: Dear Brave Heart, I wish I could say there is a lid for every pot, but unfortunately for your particular pot there is none. And that’s probably because you’re ignorant, obnoxious and annoying. But don’t give up hope. Maybe one day you’ll meet a cat who’s just as ignorant, obnoxious and annoying as you are and become obnoxiously happy. Until then, don’t count on it.”

I stared at the text and frowned. “I don’t get it,” I said. “Did Chloe just call me ignorant and obnoxious and annoying for asking a question about Mia Gray?” I’d wanted to know if there was any hope for Mia, after the girl’s disastrous affair with the late Kirk.

“Did she answer my question?” asked Dooley excitedly. “Let me see.” He hovered over the tablet and yipped when he saw his question had been addressed, too.

“Dear Chloe,” he read. “A friend of mine is very hairy on account of the fact that she’s a Persian. And since so much hair causes a lot of static electricity and we all know static electricity is what makes babies, it’s strange she hasn’t been blessed with lots and lots of kittens. Why do you think that is? Answer: Dear Hopeful Heart. I’m sure it’s not your fault that you’re as dumb as a brick, but even you can’t be dumb enough to think I’d be dumb enough to answer a dumb question like that. Yours, Chloe.” Dooley looked up with consternation written all over his features. “Did Chloe just call me a dumb brick, Max?”

“Looks like she did,” said Harriet pleasantly, “and looks like she called Max obnoxious, too. Imagine that. So if you guys have any other questions, please don’t hesitate to tell me. I’ll be more than happy to deliver them to that dear, dear Chloe.”

I stared at her. “But… I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get, Max?” she asked sweetly as she cocked her head.

“All I wanted to know is if there’s a chance for Mia Gray to ever find love again, after her fiasco with Kirk Weaver. Surely that’s not an obnoxious question?”

Harriet’s smile faltered. “Well…”

“And all I wanted to know is why you haven’t been blessed with lots and lots of babies, Harriet, because with that gorgeous fur of yours, by all rights you should. That’s not a dumb question, is it?”

“Um…” said Harriet, and swallowed. “Look, you guys, I’d love to stay and chat, but I gotta run.”

“But, Harriet!” I cried.

But Harriet was already flitting through the pet flap, en route to who knows where.

Brutus gave me a sad look. “For what it’s worth—and I know I’m not Chloe—but I think there is a lid for every pot, even your pot, Max, and most definitely for this Mia person that I don’t know. And as far as your question is concerned, Dooley, static electricity can only do so much, and so can a gorgeous coat of fur. So I’m afraid the matter of a large litter for me and Harriet can best be put to bed. It’s not gonna happen.”

And with these sad words, he, too, was off.

Dooley looked at me, I looked at Dooley, and then we both heaved deep sighs and hunkered down on the couch.

What a strange day! And I was refreshing the screen again, hoping Chloe had printed a retraction of her ‘obnoxious’ and ‘dumb’ statements when a squeaky little voice sounded nearby.

“Hey, fellas!” the voice said. “Yeah, you fat cats on the couch!”

And when I looked in the direction of the voice, I saw a small furry face, attached to a small gray furry body. It was a mouse. And it was grinning widely. “I brought you guys a little present!” the tiny critter cried, and then dropped a little something on the top step of the stairs to the basement, and scurried away again.

“Was that… a mouse?” asked Dooley.

“Yeah, I guess it was,” I said.

“He left a present,” said Dooley, and we both jumped down from the couch to have a closer look, then stared down at the item the mouse had dropped.

“It’s droppings,” I finally determined.

“What, Max?” asked Dooley, as he reached out a tentative paw.

“Don’t touch that!” I warned him.

“Why? It looks like a piece of chocolate or a cookie. It’s brown and shiny and… Oh, my god it’s poop!” he said as he finally got a good whiff of the thing.

“Yeah, Dooley. That’s exactly what it is. Mouse poop.”

Our new neighbors had thrown down the gauntlet and pooped in our house.

This meant war.

Chapter 18

Gran and Scarlett sat down at the same table they’d deserted earlier, only this time they’d brought a friend in the form of Kirk’s widow. The woman didn’t look happy, which was only to be expected after the devastating news she’d just received: not her husband’s demise, presumably, but the fact that he’d died destitute.

“So we were at Allison Gray’s place yesterday when Kirk was killed,” Gran said, deciding to forge ahead without preamble, as was her habit. “And at first it looked like Mia Gray was the culprit, as she was covered in the man’s blood. Looking closer, though, it looked as if Allison herself might have done it, but once again we were wrong. And when my niece, who’s also working the investigation, questioned Allison, she actually thought you might have done it. So what do you have to say to that, Mrs. Weaver?”

“Yeah, what do you have to say to that?” said Scarlett, who’d clearly never heard of the concept of good cop, bad cop, and was bad copping right along with Vesta.

“I don’t know what to say, except that those charges are ludicrous. Ludicrous!” said Sandy Weaver, who seemed to have something of the drama queen in her. She was a handsome woman in her late thirties or early forties, with large almond-shaped eyes and skin the color of mocha. Her lips were unnaturally plumped, and her face suspiciously wrinkle-free, which led Vesta to surmise she needed Kirk’s money to keep her Botox treatments going, and those lip fillers didn’t pay for themselves either.

“So tell me, why were you and Kirk having a divorce?” asked Vesta.

“Yeah, why were you divorcing the guy?” Scarlett chimed in as she directed a critical look at the woman’s exposed cleavage, which was almost as stunning as her own.

“First tell me something—who are you people? And why are you investigating Kirk’s murder? Don’t you have cops in this town? Or are you two the cops?”

“Sure, you can think of us as cops,” said Vesta. “It’s much easier that way. In fact the chief of police in this town is my son, and I often help him out on his investigations.”

“Me, too,” said Scarlett. “I’m a natural-born sleuth, just like Vesta here.”

“And since the lead detective on the case is dating my granddaughter, you can see how this is pretty much a family affair.”

“Uh-huh,” said Sandy, clearly not fully convinced. “So if your son is chief of police, why isn’t he asking me these questions? Why leave it to his mother?”

It was a good question, and one for which Vesta didn’t have a ready answer.

“Alec is too busy with other stuff to bother with Kirk’s murder right now,” said Scarlett. “So he asked us to do some of the legwork. Happens all the time in small towns.”

Sandy shook her head. “It’s all a little weird to me, but I guess you’re right. I don’t know how the police operate in small towns like Hampton Cove. But you were asking me about why I decided to divorce Kirk. Well, mainly because he couldn’t keep his pecker in his pants, I guess. I kept walking in on him with his secretaries, the kitchen maid, the housekeeper, the cook, the woman who does the cleaning and one time even with the gardener, though I think he made a mistake there and hadn’t noticed in the darkness of the garden shed that our gardener was actually a buff Mexican male named Pedro.”

“So you’re telling us that your husband was—”

“A horndog, yes. Of the very worst kind. He was addicted to sex and had to have sex at least six times a day, preferably with a different woman every time. When it first happened, on our honeymoon in Bali, and I walked in on him with the barmaid, he told me it would never happen again and I believed him, but when it kept happening, he promised me he’d go into therapy for his sex addiction and asked me to stand by his side and help him through what was obviously a very difficult time in his life. So I did, but when I discovered he’d been having sex with his therapist, his therapist’s secretary, and his therapist’s mother, I figured enough was enough and I filed for divorce. Which he refused to grant me.”

“He refused to divorce you?” asked Vesta, who’d been listening with rapt attention. She’d heard about people like Kirk Weaver but had never actually met one in the flesh.

“He claimed he still loved me and all those flings, as he called them, were meaningless in the grand scheme of our marriage, which he considered a holy bond that couldn’t be broken by man—or me. But now I understand how all this talk of great bonds only meant to hide the ugly truth.”

“Which was?” Scarlett prompted.

“That the man was flat broke! And the moment the divorce went through I’d have discovered his financial situation and so would the rest of the world.”

“And he didn’t want that to happen.”

“My husband was a well-known media personality. He didn’t want his failure as a businessman to be widely known.”

“So he denied you your divorce and yesterday morning you decided to end this marriage once and for all by stabbing him through the heart with a big knife,” said Scarlett, nodding. “Makes sense. I can see why you did it. But murder is not the way.”

“You really think I’d kill Kirk?” asked Sandy, incredulous.

“I do, and it’s fine. I can sympathize,” said Scarlett, placing a long-nailed hand on the woman’s arm. “And I’m sure that a jury will be extremely sympathetic to your plight.”

“Look, I don’t know where you got this crazy idea but I didn’t kill my husband, all right? I didn’t like the guy, and I thought he was human scum, but I didn’t kill him.”

“But you thought about it.”

Sandy hesitated. A waiter had come up and placed their orders on the table: more hot cocoa for Vesta, a cappuccino for Scarlett and chamomile tea for Sandy, presumably to calm her nerves, frayed to the utmost from her recent visit to the lawyer’s office.

The moment the waiter had withdrawn, Sandy said, “Yes, I did think about killing Kirk. Many times. In fact each time I caught him with another woman I imagined stabbing him like the filthy pig that he was. But did I act upon those revenge fantasies? No, of course I didn’t. The way I wanted to get even with the bastard was by divorcing him and taking all of his money. Only now it turns out there wasn’t any money to be had. The man was broke! Completely broke. He even left a chest full of debts behind.”

“So where were you yesterday morning around eleven?” asked Vesta.

“Good question,” said Scarlett admiringly. “Where were you? Tell us that, if you can.”

“I was brunching at the hotel across the street. And you can ask any waiter and they’ll confirm my story. And after brunch I went shopping for new clothes. I still figured the settlement would make me a rich woman.” She scoffed. “Huh! What a fool I was!”

Chapter 19

When Sandy had left to return to her hotel, Vesta and Scarlett discussed the interview. “You did great, Vesta,” said Scarlett. “You asked all the right questions and really made her sweat.”

“Thanks,” said Vesta, touched by this unexpected compliment from one who probably hadn’t paid her a compliment since the days when Ronald Reagan was president. “I picked up a few tips and tricks from my granddaughter. Odelia is great at this kind of stuff. And of course it doesn’t hurt that my son is a cop.”

“So what do you think? Was she lying when she told us she never came near her husband?”

“Well, you heard her. She has a solid alibi. The brunch thing and the shopping. Very easy for us to check.”

“But maybe she figures we won’t. Maybe she snuck out at some point, made her way across town, snuck into Allison Gray’s house and killed Kirk and then got back.”

“It’s possible,” Vesta allowed, “but unlikely. The first thing you develop in this business is intuition. You talk to a potential suspect and you get a feel for them.”

“A feel for them,” Scarlett repeated, nodding seriously.

“And my gut tells me she didn’t do it.”

“My gut tells me the same thing. The woman hated her husband, but that doesn’t make her a killer.”

They both sat staring out the window at the hotel across the street for a moment, then heaved a simultaneous sigh.

“This stuff isn’t as easy as I thought it would be,” Scarlett intimated. “I always thought sleuthing was a cinch. You talk to a couple of people, and before you know it, bam! You’ve got your guy. But we’ve talked to several people already and so far I don’t have a clue what happened. You?”

“No, I don’t,” Vesta admitted. “But we still have a couple of suspects left, and so we just need to keep going, Scarlett. Talk to them one by one until we hit the jackpot.”

“Isn’t this kind of work… dangerous?” asked Scarlett now.

“Oh, yeah. Course it is. These people will stop at nothing, and if you get too close they might lash out and strike.”

Scarlett shivered visibly. “I don’t know how you do it, Vesta. Case after case after case. You must have nerves of steel.”

“Well, you get used to it to some extent,” said Vesta, expanding a little under this onslaught of compliments and admiration.

“I want to be you when I grow up,” said Scarlett, eyeing her partner-in-sleuthing with a sparkle in her eye.

“Oh, please.”

“No, really. The way you handled yourself just now, and yesterday with Allison and Mia. You were born to do this.”

“Baby steps, Scarlett,” said Vesta, feeling like a seasoned pro teaching her junior partner the tricks of the trade.

“Do you think I’ll get there eventually?”

“If you keep following my lead, I don’t see why not.”

“Thank you for this opportunity,” said Scarlett humbly.

“You’re welcome, honey.”

And as Scarlett basked in the glow of the warmth of the coffee shop, and Vesta basked in the glow of Scarlett’s praise, neither of them noticed how across the street Odelia and Chase had arrived at the hotel, and now walked in.

Odelia hadn’t slept well. It wasn’t just the investigation, but also the notion that her grandmother was now saddled with her archnemesis and the worry that the two ladies would come to blows at some point. It had happened before, and broken nails and pulled hair and damaged egos had been the upshot.

“I hope he’s in,” she said as she and Chase walked up to the reception desk.

“If he isn’t we’ll wait for him,” said Chase as he drummed his fingers on the desk. “So have you asked Dan to reveal the identity of the mysterious Gabi yet?”

“Yeah, I have, but he doesn’t want to tell me. He keeps claiming it’s someone I don’t know—some unknown from the Midwest, but I think it has to be someone local.”

“Could it be Dan himself? He knows everything there is to know about Hampton Cove.”

“Could be,” Odelia admitted. “Though I doubt it. Dan has enough on his plate without having to write a daily advice column on top of everything else.”

“There must be a way to find out,” said Chase as he directed a cheeky look at her.

She laughed. “You’re not suggesting I dig through Dan’s computer, are you?”

“Just an idea,” he said lightly. “It would solve the mystery once and for all.”

She’d actually considered this. She was probably even nosy enough to go ahead and do just that, but she had too much respect for her editor to go through with the plan. Besides, if Dan felt he needed to keep the identity of his mysterious advice columnist a secret, he probably had his reasons, and she simply had to accept them.

The receptionist came walking up from the small room behind the desk and smiled politely. “Yes?”

“We’re looking for Burt Scofield,” said Chase, holding up his badge.

The receptionist’s eyes went a little wider, and he nodded. “Room 216. Shall I call him and ask to meet you in the lobby?”

“No, I think we’ll surprise him,” said Chase with a grin.

They took the elevator and Odelia glanced up at her boyfriend’s profile. He looked as handsome as ever, and she wondered why he would hold off on the wedding. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her. He’d given ample proof that he cared deeply for her over the past couple of months. Maybe he was one of those men with an aversion to the institution of marriage? She knew people like that existed. They’d seen their parents’ marriages fall apart and had stopped believing in the conjugal bond.

“We have to reschedule dinner again,” she said now. “I’m up to my ears in work.”

Chase smiled. “Why is it that every time we make dinner plans something comes up?”

“Like we said last night, maybe we simply need to stop making plans and just decide on the spur of the moment. Maybe then it’ll finally happen.”

“Without making reservations?”

“Sure. There’s plenty of places where you can just walk in.”

“Okay, let’s do that,” he said. “How about tomorrow?” He slapped his brow lightly. “And here I’m planning again.”

The elevator had arrived on the second floor and they got out, then walked over to room 216. Chase knocked and then stood back. The door opened and a man appeared. He was unshaven, unkempt and was dressed in his pajamas.

“Yeah? What do you want?” he asked gruffly.

“Burt Scofield?” asked Chase.

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m Detective Kingsley with the Hampton Cove Police Department,” said Chase, holding up his badge once again. “And this is Odelia Poole, civilian consultant. We’re investigating the murder of your business partner Kirk Weaver. May we have a word?”

The man stared at Chase’s badge for a moment, then at Odelia, and finally nodded and stepped aside. “Sure. Come on in.”

They stepped into the room and Odelia wasn’t surprised to find the room in as messy a state as its occupant: clothes were strewn all around, room service trays littered the coffee table, couch and chairs, and wet towels had been dropped to the floor, some of them doused in weirdly colored substances she didn’t want to know the origin of.

“Take a seat,” he said, as he shoved aside some of the trays and made room for them on the couch. “Sorry about the mess. I’ve been so busy working, and now with Kirk dying on me…”

He dragged a hand through his unruly mop of dark hair, then rubbed his face. “How did he die? The reports weren’t very specific.”

“Stabbed,” said Chase curtly.

“Stabbed where, exactly? I’m just…” he added when Chase gave him a curious look. “I just can’t believe what happened. He was my business partner for ten years, and my friend for twenty. We went to school together. High school, then college. I’ve known Kirk all my life and I just can’t believe he’s gone all of a sudden. It’s like a nightmare.”

“He was stabbed in the chest,” said Odelia. “He died instantly, or at least that’s what the coroner said.”

“He didn’t suffer?” asked Burt anxiously.

“No, it doesn’t look like he suffered. It all happened very quickly. So quickly he didn’t even know what was going on.”

“Thank God for that,” murmured Burt as he dragged up a chair and took a seat. “So what do you want to know, detectives?”

“You were Kirk’s business partner in what sense?” asked Chase. “Were you involved with the TV show?”

“Yeah, the TV show and the company,” said Burt. “Um, our company is called K-Bear, K for Kirk and B for Burt, and the bear we just added because it sounded cute. We developed the show but also sell products, run courses, consultations, Kirk wrote books, made instructional videos, we have a line of pet products, pet food and toys and such.”

“And was business booming, would you say?”

Burt hesitated, then swallowed with difficulty. “Look, I’m going to tell you the truth here, okay? But I hope you won’t go blabbing to the media.”

“We don’t blab to the media, sir,” said Chase a little stiffly, not mentioning the fact that a member of the media was currently sitting in their presence in the shape of Odelia.

“I actually work for a newspaper,” said Odelia, who didn’t see the need to hide the fact from the man. “But I promise not to mention anything you decide to tell us in confidence.”

Burt nodded. “No, things weren’t going well, to be absolutely honest. Kirk made a couple of bad investments, and he borrowed from the company to pay back some of the loans he took out, and at the moment we’re leveraged to the hilt. To the point where Kirk’s death is likely to deal us the final blow. I don’t think K-Bear will last another month.”

“What bad investments?” asked Odelia.

“He, um, invested in a company that develops automated milking robots for cows? Only there were some technical issues and the company went belly-up. He also invested in a flying cab app? Like Uber but with flying cabs? Only the technology isn’t there yet, and a couple of the cabs crashed and burned—literally. So that didn’t go anywhere either. And I think there was a company that wanted to be like the Tinder for celebrities, only they managed to get hacked and then sued. By the celebrities. There’s more, um…”

Chase held up his hand. “I think we get the picture. Kirk wasn’t a savvy investor, and he lost all of his money and then some.”

“Not just his money. I discovered, a little belatedly, that he’d also taken out loans against the company, and so he’d effectively invested my money, too.”

“How come you didn’t notice this sooner?” asked Odelia.

“Because Kirk was in charge of our finances. I’m more the idea man, you see. I develop new projects and products, and Kirk was the guy who made it all possible. I trusted him. He was my best friend.”

“And he let you down.”

“Yeah, to put it mildly,” said Burt sadly. “He kinda destroyed me.”

“Where were you yesterday morning around eleven, Mr. Scofield?” asked Odelia.

Burt frowned. “Um… I think I was right here. Yeah, I had breakfast downstairs and then I came up to try and salvage what could be salvaged by contacting our investors.”

“Can anyone confirm you were here?”

“Oh, sure. I talked to one of our main investors through Zoom. They’re in China, and very keen to expand K-Bear into the Asian market. Only not so keen after I told them Kirk had just lost all of their initial investment money. Why? You think I killed Kirk?”

“Just asking questions, Mr. Scofield,” said Chase, jotting down a couple of notes.

“So I take it you guys don’t have a suspect yet?”

“I can’t really comment on an ongoing investigation,” Chase said.

“Well, I didn’t do it, if that’s what you think. I loved the guy. I mean, was he a flawed human being? Of course he was. Flawed in more ways than one. But he was my friend, and I was sure we were going to get through this. If only he could stop flushing our future down the toilet.”

“Are you aware that your friend was having woman trouble?” asked Odelia.

“Oh, yeah,” said Burt, nodding vigorously. “It was the story of his life. Kirk was one of those people who kept falling in love. He only had to look at a woman once to know she was the one for him. And then five minutes later he’d see someone else and know for a fact that she was the one for him, too. A serial infatuator, he called himself.”

Odelia had another, less kind, term for the kind of man Kirk had apparently been, but refrained from voicing the thought.

“Have you been in contact with his wife?” asked Chase.

“Sandy. Yeah, she’s staying at the same hotel. We kinda try to ignore each other. Sandy isn’t happy with Kirk right now, and has filed for divorce, which he wouldn’t grant her, on account of the fact that he was still in love with her.”

“He had a funny way of showing it,” said Chase, “considering he was having an affair both with Allison Gray and Allison’s niece Mia.”

Burt closed his eyes. “God, what a mess.”

“He didn’t tell you about that?”

“He did, he did. He said he’d fallen in love again, and then again, and both women were amazing. I told him to watch out. Dating both the aunt and the niece was asking for trouble. And looks like trouble finally found him.”

Chapter 20

“I think we should ask Chloe,” said Dooley as we both stared at the droppings the mouse had left for our perusal.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, I don’t know what to do, and neither do you, so why don’t we ask someone who knows everything there is to know about everything?”

It was a good idea, I had to admit. I had no experience dealing with mice, and neither did Dooley, and from what I’d seen of Harriet and Brutus handling—or rather, not handling—the previous mice infestation, they had no clue how to handle these rodents either, so that only left Chloe to help us deal with this emergency.

And as luck would have it, Harriet walked in at that moment, accompanied by Brutus, and when she found us gathered around the droppings, frowned and asked, “What are you guys doing over there?”

“We have another question for Chloe,” I announced.

“And this time it’s a matter of life or death,” Dooley added the somber note.

He was right, of course. Life or death of the mouse colony, for Odelia had given us strict instructions to get rid of the mice or else. I could only imagine to what measures she might resort if we didn’t manage to persuade the mice to vacate the premises voluntarily. Images of mouse traps and poison came to mind, all not very humane, in my view.

Harriet, her curiosity piqued, came tripping up to take a closer look at the object that had snagged our attention and necessitated a Chloe intervention.

She took one sniff and wrinkled up her nose in disgust. “Eww!” she said, perfectly expressing my own sentiments exactly.

“What is it, baby cakes?” asked Brutus.

“Max had a little accident,” she said. “Couldn’t you hold it in until you reached your litter box, Max? Or was it you, Dooley?”

“Me!” I cried. “I didn’t do this!”

Harriet turned a reproachful eye on Dooley. The latter wilted under the onslaught, but still managed to squeak out, “It wasn’t me, I swear!”

“If you didn’t do it, then who did?”

“The mouse!” Dooley cried. He doesn’t like it when Harriet is upset with him, and neither, I have to admit, do I, though I’ve gotten used to her volcanic temper over the years.

“Mouse? What mouse?”

“Don’t you remember, bright eyes?” said Brutus. “The mice are back.”

Harriet paled beneath her fur. Hard to spot, I know, but I still spotted it.

“They’re back?” she asked.

“Yes, looks like,” I said. “Though I don’t know if they’re the same mice from before or a fresh batch.”

“I’ll bet it’s the same ones,” said Dooley. “The one we just saw was very rude, and just left these droppings here for us to find. As if challenging us, you know.”

“Oh, it’s the same ones all right,” said Harriet. “Only Molly and Rupert would behave in such a disgraceful way. Those two have absolutely no shame.”

“Molly and Rupert?” I asked. “I didn’t know you were on a first-name basis with them.”

“If you spend enough time down there,” she said, gesturing to the basement door, “you will get to know them soon enough.”

“So you see why it’s so important you ask this question to Chloe,” said Dooley, reiterating the point he’d made earlier. “Chloe is the only one who can help us now. She needs to figure out a way to get rid of these creatures.”

“I’m not sure if Chloe…” Harriet began, then seemed to pull herself together, and continued, “Of course I’ll ask her. I just don’t know if Chloe will answer. She’s been getting a lot of questions lately, especially since last night’s cat choir, and Kingman’s call.”

“But she must answer this question,” said Dooley. “She simply must. We can’t keep on living with these droppings-dropping mice under our noses. Oh, can’t you simply ask Chloe to answer our question first, Harriet?”

“Yeah, seeing as you and Chloe are thick as thieves,” I added with a curious glance in my housemate’s direction. I won’t conceal the fact that I was still reeling from the fact that Chloe had called me obnoxious and Dooley dumb. And it struck me as odd that Chloe would have selected Harriet as her go-between. “Who is this Chloe?” I asked therefore, not for the first time. “It must be someone we know, right? Someone who knows us. Intimately. If she was able to give us such a detailed answer, with a few choice epithets thrown in for good measure, she must know us very well indeed.”

“It’s clearly not someone who likes us,” said Dooley. “She called me a dumb brick and she called Max obnoxious and ignorant and annoying. But I don’t hold that against her,” he quickly added when Harriet frowned. “I know I’m not the smartest cat in the world.”

“You’re very smart, Dooley,” I said. “And don’t let anyone tell you different, not even Chloe, Hampton Cove’s all-knowing feline oracle.”

Harriet was looking slightly uncomfortable again, and so was Brutus. All this talk of Chloe clearly upset them, for some reason. I could only imagine Chloe was a very close friend of the couple, and they didn’t like it when we talked smack about her.

“Look, shouldn’t we be out there trying to catch a killer?” asked Harriet now with a stilted smile plastered all across her features.

“Odelia didn’t ask us to tag along this time,” I said, a little dejectedly.

“That’s because she has two extra sleuths already,” Dooley pointed out. “She has Gran and Scarlett assisting her, and also Chase and Alec, so she doesn’t need us this time.”

“Pity,” said Brutus. “I like a good murder investigation.”

“Maybe we can help her without telling her?” Harriet suggested.

“Or I have an even better idea!” suddenly Dooley cried. We all looked at him, and so he elucidated, “We simply ask Chloe. She’ll know who Kirk Weaver’s killer is!”

“Now there’s an idea,” I said, nodding. “We could always do that.”

“Nonsense,” Harriet snapped. “Chloe doesn’t deal with murder inquiries. She’s strictly there to answer your personal questions, preferably those concerning your love lives. Which is also why I’m not sure she’ll know how to deal with this mice infestation.”

“Oh,” said Dooley, looking disappointed.

“Look, I’ll ask her, all right? But don’t get your hopes up.”

We all stared at the nugget of mouse poo, and suddenly I thought I heard laughter coming from the basement.

“Catch us if you can!” suddenly a voice rose up from the same direction, and the sound of scurrying feet could be heard. Hundreds of scurrying feet. I could see that Harriet’s skin was crawling, and a horrified expression had appeared in her eyes.

“I have an idea,” she suddenly said, and before we could stop her, she’d streaked off, zoomed through the pet flap, and was gone.

Dooley smiled. “She’s gone to get Chloe. Just you wait and see. She’ll be back in five minutes with Chloe, who’ll deal with these horrible mice the way they should be dealt with.”

Somehow I had a feeling he was setting himself up for a big disappointment.

Chapter 21

When Odelia and Chase returned to the lobby of the hotel, they were surprised to find Gran and Scarlett waiting there for them.

“Hey, you guys,” said Odelia, still a little astonished to see her grandmother and Scarlett together without rolling on the floor fighting. It was a nice change.

“So what did you find out?” asked Gran.

“We talked to the business partner,” Odelia explained as she took a seat on one of the upholstered settee benches that had been placed in the lobby for the guests’ enjoyment.

“And? What did he say?” Scarlett asked.

“Nothing much. Kirk was broke, and their company on the verge of bankruptcy.”

“He has a strong alibi, though,” said Chase. “Or at least he will have once I’ve checked it out.”

“We talked to the widow,” said Gran. “She has a solid alibi, too. Though we haven’t checked it out yet, have we, Scarlett?”

“No, but we can do that right now,” Scarlett suggested.

“She did give us some more information about the kind of man her husband was,” Gran continued. “Apparently there wasn’t a woman he met without attempting to go to bed with her. Over the years she found her husband having sex with everyone from the maid to the cook to the gardener and anything in between. The man was a horndog.”

“A serial infatuator, his business partner called him,” said Chase.

Gran scoffed at this. “Serial infatuator my ass. The man was a womanizer of the worst kind. And somewhere along the way, it got him killed. Only question is, who and why?”

They all sat staring at one another for a moment, then Scarlett said, “If the man slept around so much, there must be other women that we don’t know about. Maybe he also slept with the cook, the maid and the gardener at Allison Gray’s house? And one of them got mad and then got even?”

“It’s a thought,” Odelia agreed. “Only problem is, how are we going to find out about this mystery woman?”

“With good old-fashioned police work, that’s how,” said Gran decidedly. “We simply ask questions and then we ask some more questions and then, when we’re finished, we start all over again.”

“Isn’t she wonderful?” said Scarlett, much to Odelia’s surprise. “She’s such a great little detective, isn’t she? You must be so proud of your grandmother, Odelia, honey.”

“Well… I am,” said Odelia, staring at Scarlett, and Gran’s smile as it blossomed across her face like a rose. What was going on here? These two hadn’t stopped fighting since 1986, and now suddenly this?

“Let’s go and ask some of those questions, shall we?” Scarlett suggested, getting up from her perch on the settee.

“Yeah, let’s,” said Gran. “First I’d like to verify Sandy’s alibi, and then I’d like to go back to Allison’s place and ask some more questions over there.”

“Excellent idea,” said Scarlett as both women walked out of the lobby.

Odelia stared after them. “Are they… arm in arm now?” she asked, stunned.

“Yeah, looks like. It’s a damn sight better than pulling each other’s hair, let me tell you that.”

“I don’t know what’s happening anymore!” Odelia cried, raising her arms heavenward. The world was going mad. But in a good way.

“I’m going back to the office for a bit,” Chase said. “I need to give your uncle an update. And I want to get a hold of that investor guy Burt said he’d been talking to.”

“And I’ll…” Do what, exactly? “Well, I guess I’ll go to the office and… work.”

“Always a good idea,” said Chase with a smile, and kissed her lightly on the lips.

Tex Poole sat in his office, wondering where his receptionist had gone off to this time. Vesta had said something to him the previous day about a murder investigation she was involved in, and he hadn’t really paid all that much attention to her wild theories about the death of this cat whisperer guy. But she hadn’t come in for work that morning and he’d been forced to handle the phones himself again.

Now he was between patients and he sat checking the Gazette website for Gabi’s column. He’d asked a question and had been wondering if and when Gabi would grace it with a response. It had been a couple of days but so far nothing. And as he scrolled through the long list of questions and answers, he suddenly saw the one he’d asked.

He sat up with a jerk, a jolt of excitement racing through him. His question had been a simple one, but he still was curious about the response. ‘I’m a middle-aged man who’s been professionally active for the past twenty-five years in a job that is of the utmost importance to the community. But I’m also a husband to a wonderful wife, and lately I’ve been wondering if I haven’t neglected my marriage too much. What do you think?’

Gabi’s response, as he read it eagerly, left him a little deflated: ‘Dear Fretful Heart, your marriage is fine so stop worrying. What you should worry about is your brother-in-law and his lack of ambition. Don’t you want a mayor in the family? Chew on that!’

He sat back and thought for a moment, then read the response again. How did Gabi know he had a brother-in-law? Then again, didn’t most married people have brothers-in-law? And she had told him to stop worrying about his marriage, as it was ‘fine.’

Well, that was something at least. If Gabi said his marriage was fine, it probably was.

His phone chimed and he took it from his desk. When he saw that his wife was trying to reach him, he smiled and picked up. “Hello, gorgeous.”

“Hello, Tex,” she said flatly. “When will you be home?”

“Um, it’s been pretty quiet, so I should be home on time.”

“Great. What do you want to eat? Lamb chops or casserole?”

“Lamb chops,” he said, wondering why Marge sounded so… annoyed. “Is everything all right, honey?”

“Why shouldn’t it be?” she said. “Isn’t everything always all right?” And with these mysterious words, she disconnected, leaving him to wonder if Gabi had made a mistake in describing his marriage as ‘fine.’

Marge hadn’t sounded all that fine to him.

Chapter 22

That morning at the breakfast table, Allison wasn’t feeling like herself. She’d watched Mia come down and eat her breakfast, looking listless and sad, and it pained her to see her beloved niece going through such a terrible ordeal.

Luckily the coroner’s people had removed Kirk’s body the day before, and had told her she could have the room back. She’d immediately asked her maid Ellen to give the room a deep cleaning, and Ellen had roped in her two cousins and together they’d made the room look spick and span again. Still, it wasn’t enough to remove the stain of the murder that seemed to hang heavy on the house and its atmosphere, Allison felt.

So she was planning to go into town later that day to connect with an interior designer she knew well and give her carte blanche to completely redo the upstairs. New flooring, wallpaper, ceilings, the works. She wanted a complete remodel that would make the house feel like new again, fresh and ready to stand for another couple of decades.

“How are you feeling, honey?” she asked, a little trepidatiously, since she still felt to blame for what had happened. After all, she was the one who’d brought Kirk into their home, and she was the one who’d had an affair with the man. And even though she hadn’t known he was also conducting an affair with her beloved niece, she should have known better than to fall prey to such a deceitful and lustful man.

“I’m all right, I guess,” said Mia, listlessly picking at a bread roll, plucking out the crumb and rolling it into little balls. She looked up. “Have you heard from those detectives?”

“Yes, one of them just called me and asked if they could interview the staff.”

“But didn’t they interview them yesterday?”

“Yes, they did, but they are following a new line of inquiry, or at least that’s what she said.”

“You mean Odelia?”

“No, her grandmother Vesta. And her friend Scarlett.”

“Oh,” said Mia without enthusiasm. She seemed to have taken a liking to Odelia, possibly because she was closer to her in age than Allison, or the two older ladies.

“Listen, there’s something I need to tell you,” said Allison now. She’d thought long and hard, and had lain awake for a long time pondering the dilemma, and that morning had finally reached a decision. She couldn’t keep the truth from her niece any longer. Sooner or later she’d probably find out anyway, and it was better if she heard it from her.

“The thing, is, honey, you weren’t the only one Kirk was having an affair with.”

Mia frowned but didn’t look up. “I know that, Auntie Allison. Kirk had a wife.”

“No, I mean, apart from his wife. He was also having an affair with another person.” She cleared her throat. This was a lot harder than she’d imagined.

“Another woman? Who?”

She glanced at her niece, then looked away again. “Um, well, me,” she said quietly. “Only, I didn’t know he was also involved with you, honey. Otherwise I would never—”

But to her surprise Mia was smiling. “I knew that, auntie. Of course I knew that.”

“You… knew about me and Kirk?”

“Of course! We live in the same house. Kirk probably thought he could keep it a secret but I knew. I saw him sneak into your room one night. And then I discovered that he liked to sleep in my room Mondays and Thursdays, and in yours Tuesdays and Fridays. I don’t know where he spent his Wednesdays and his weekends. Not in my room and not in yours, so I think he must have had someone else whose bed he slept in those other nights.”

Allison stared at her niece. “But… you never told me.”

“Of course not, silly. I didn’t want to embarrass you. Besides, I wasn’t as infatuated with Kirk as you thought. And I knew he wasn’t as into me as he made out to be. Kirk was a man who didn’t want to be tied down by a single woman. I knew that going in.”

“Then you’re a lot wiser than I am,” said Allison ruefully. “I had no idea. Not about you, or these others.”

“Did you love him, auntie?” asked Mia earnestly.

“Not really. I liked him. He was very charming, and a lot of fun to be around. But love? No, I don’t think that ever entered into the equation.”

“Good. Then at least he didn’t get the chance to break any hearts.”

“Unless one of the other women he was involved with felt differently,” Allison pointed out.

Mia shrugged. “I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m just glad I’m not in jail right now. And it’s all thanks to Odelia, and her grandmother.”

“It’s a strange state of affairs,” Allison said. “Usually the police aren’t that eager to ignore evidence.”

“I think secretly Odelia and her grandmother are cat whisperers, too, and they talked to Jasmine, who told them I was nowhere near Kirk when it happened.”

Allison laughed at this. It was just like her niece to dream up a story like that. “I’m going into town later this afternoon. I want to redo the entire upstairs. Wanna come? It could be our joint project.”

“Oh, God, yes, please. If I have to stay in this house for a minute longer I’ll go nuts. And can I please change rooms until the remodeling is done? I couldn’t sleep last night, knowing that right next door Kirk…” She swallowed. “… was murdered.”

The doorbell chimed and Allison said, “That will be them, my latest Gabis.”

“Oh, so they’re the new Gabi?” said Mia, interested.

“Yeah, and they’re pretty good, too. And if they manage to catch Kirk’s killer, I’ll personally see to it that they both receive the Aggie this year.”

Chapter 23

So we were back at the house where only the day before a tragedy had taken place. I was actually happy to be involved in the investigation again, even if it wasn’t with our usual human partner Odelia but with Gran and Scarlett instead.

“Nice of Gran to bring us along, isn’t it, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Yeah, very nice,” I agreed.

“And maybe we can ask her about the mice,” Dooley added. “Gran must know some old remedy that will get rid of them, right?”

“Maybe,” I said, though I wasn’t too sure.

Gran had told us to seek out Jasmine again and grill her some more. She’d also told us they’d spend the rest of the day interviewing Allison’s staff, and if we could maybe listen in on staff conversations we could hopefully glean a great deal more than she and Scarlett ever could with their interviews.

It was a good plan. In unguarded moments people tend to let slip things they should probably have left unspoken.

First things first, though. It was time to talk to Jasmine again, and to be absolutely honest I wasn’t looking forward to it. Jasmine was a cat who didn’t take prisoners.

Dooley, though, seemed anxious to make the cat’s acquaintance once more. But then Dooley has a thing for femme fatales, I guess. Like Harriet, on whom he’s had a crush for ages.

So we snuck up the stairs and soon found Mia’s bedroom. Of Jasmine, though, there was no trace. So we simply followed our noses and keen senses of hearing, and discovered the prissy Persian in a room at the back of the house, sunning herself on the hardwood floor. Judging from the racks of books against the wall and the cozy comfortable chair near the window, this was the room where Allison liked to read.

“Oh, God, not you two clowns again,” said Jasmine by way of greeting.

If I was discouraged by these words of welcome I decided not to show it. “Hi, Jasmine,” I said. “How are things?”

“How are things? You have to work on your small talk, Hardy. It sucks.”

“I saw a mouse poop this morning,” said Dooley, and caused Jasmine to guffaw, a nice change of pace from her usual snarkiness.

“You did what?”

“There are mice in our basement, and one of them left droppings on the top step.”

“Why do you have mice in the house?” asked Jasmine. “You should have gotten rid of them a long time ago. Don’t you know the first thing about being a cat?”

“Um… being nice to our humans”? Dooley ventured.

“No! Killing vermin. The only reason humans took us in all those long years ago was because we’re such great mousers. You can check this house top to bottom. You will not find a single mouse. Or a rat, for that matter. I take my job very seriously, and my humans appreciate me all the more for it.”

“So… how do you catch these mice?” asked Dooley. “And what do you do with them once you catch them?”

Jasmine stared at him, incredulous. “What do I do with these mice? Are you crazy? I eat them, of course.”

Dooley made a face. “Yuck!”

“Yuck? What did you think I do with them? Coddle them and make friends with them? Cats eat mice. That’s the way it has always been and that’s exactly the way it should be. And if you have any respect for your human you should do the same.”

“But… they’re alive!” said Dooley.

“Not for long, they’re not,” said Jasmine with a cruel grin.

“Eww!” said Dooley. “But that’s so mean!”

“It’s the way it should be. No mice should tread where cats roam. Not now, not ever.”

“Well, they’re treading wide and plentiful where we live,” I said. “I think there must be hundreds down there, possibly thousands.”

“Oh, jeez. You two are so pathetic I can’t believe it.”

“Well… maybe you can drop by and help us out?” I now suggested.

“No can do, Hardy. This is your mess, not mine.”

I could see where she was coming from, but even though intellectually I knew she was right, I simply couldn’t see myself gobbling up mice with hide and hair and chugging them down. I simply couldn’t. Call me spoiled but I drew the line at eating live animals.

“Anyway, we’re not here to talk about mice,” I said. “We’re actually here to talk some more about Kirk.”

“So you still haven’t caught the guy’s killer, huh? I told you yesterday. It was Allison.”

“Allison assured our human she had nothing to do with Kirk’s death, and our human believes her,” I said.

“Then your human is an idiot,” Jasmine shot back immediately. “Everyone can see that Allison is guilty as hell. Do you know she’s already talking about redecorating the house? It’s pretty obvious she wants to get rid of the evidence.”

“What evidence? The murder weapon was right there, lodged in the man’s chest.”

“She wants the whole place remodeled. And not just repapered, either. Floors, ceilings, walls… The works. If that’s not the work of a desperate woman eager to hide her tracks, I don’t know what is.”

“She could simply want to get rid of the image of Kirk in that room,” I said. “Lots of people have the rooms where people have died a violent death redone. Some people even sell their houses for that same reason, as the memory is too much for them.”

“Well, I’m sticking to my theory that Allison killed Kirk.”

“Gran talked to Kirk’s wife,” said Dooley. “And she said Kirk was a corn dog.”

“Why did she call Kirk a corn dog?” asked Jasmine, confused.

“Well, a corn dog is a person who keeps falling in love all the time. And that was Kirk.”

Jasmine grinned at Dooley’s description. “Uh-huh. Go on.”

“So Kirk was a corn dog and his wife told Gran that she caught him with the cleaner, the maid, the gardener, the housekeeper and every other member of staff over the years. And he was having relations with every single one of them, even with the gardener.”

“I see. Sticking his corn dog where it didn’t belong, huh? Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me one bit,” said Jasmine. “Kirk wasn’t just having affairs with Allison and Mia, but also with several members of staff. And I didn’t just catch him in the kitchen, but also in the laundry room, the wine cellar, the garden shed and one time even in Allison’s office with Allison’s own secretary. The man was incorrigible.”

“And you still think Allison did it?” I asked. “Even though all of these women are perfectly valid suspects?”

“All of these women knew exactly what they were getting. Only Allison and Mia thought he was the real deal. The rest were just flings.”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Well, I do. And now could you please get lost? I was enjoying a perfectly nice beauty sleep before you barged in here with your stupid questions and your stupid theories.”

And so we got lost.

“What do you think, Max? Could Jasmine be right about Allison and Odelia wrong?”

“I have no idea, Dooley,” I admitted. “But I have a feeling Jasmine doesn’t like Allison very much, which may be why she keeps harping on the fact that she’s Kirk’s killer.”

Dooley shivered. “Imagine eating a mouse while it’s still alive. The poor creature will be screaming all the way down your gullet, wriggling and writhing. How can Jasmine be so cruel, Max?”

“I don’t know, Dooley. I guess she considers herself a cat’s cat. And cat’s cats eat their mice whole.”

“So what does that say about us, Max?”

“It says that we’re humane cats, Dooley.”

“And is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I like to think it’s a good thing, though I’m not sure Odelia would agree with me when those mice start raiding her cupboards and start leaving droppings on her pillow.”

Chapter 24

“What are we doing here, my turtle dove?” asked Brutus urgently.

“We’re here to find a friend, my sweet patootie,” Harriet replied.

They were in one of the numerous back alleys Hampton Cove is littered with, and she’d just sniffed at a large dumpster and struck out again. She was experiencing a strange feeling, and had since that morning. It was a feeling she hadn’t recognized at first as she didn’t think she’d ever felt it before. Oh, she’d heard about it, of course, from others, but had never actually experienced it firstpaw, so to speak.

Often referred to as ‘guilt’ it was commonly associated with something called a conscience. More specifically it was the feeling that you’ve done something wrong and you regret it and wish you could turn back time and undo the damage that you’ve done.

When Max and Dooley had looked at her that morning with consternation written all over their features, she’d experienced a pang of guilt, and it had only intensified since.

She’d called Max obnoxious for wanting to heal Mia’s sundered heart, and had called Dooley dumb for his earnest wish to address her childless relationship with Brutus.

Only she hadn’t interpreted it that way, and so she’d made a mistake.

“And who is this friend we’re looking for?” asked Brutus.

“You’ll see when we find her,” she said, tapping another dumpster, hoping for a response.

She didn’t want to go so far as to apologize to Max and Dooley, even though she probably should. But then she’d have to reveal her secret identity as the Gazette’s Chloe, and she didn’t want that. So instead she had decided to do Max and Dooley a favor so big they’d forget all about Chloe’s response.

And she’d thunked her paw against another dumpster when inside a snarl sounded and she smiled.

“Clarice? Is that you?” she called out.

A furry face came peeping over the dumpster’s edge, and growled, “What’s it to you?”

“It’s me, Clarice—Harriet,” she said, elated that she’d found the other cat.

“Hi, Clarice,” said Brutus, lifting his paw in greeting. He didn’t sound excited, nor could she blame him. Brutus had always been a little bit afraid of the feral cat.

“What do you want?” asked Clarice, gracefully jumping down from the dumpster and starting to lick her paw, razor-sharp claws out.

“I have a problem,” said Harriet.

“And why should that be of any concern to me?” asked Clarice, with her usual frosty manner.

“The thing is, our house is infested with mice. Again, I should probably add. And we have no idea how to get rid of them.”

“And now you want me to go in there, guns blazing, and solve that little problem for you, is that it?”

“Yeah, that’s about what it boils down to,” Harriet confirmed, happy that Clarice was so quick on the uptake.

“No can do, toots,” said Clarice, much to Harriet’s dismay. “I’ve got plenty of food right here.” Suddenly, from underneath the dumpster, the largest rat Harriet had ever seen came scurrying, nose twitching and front teeth exposed as it sniffed at a piece of moldy bread.

Brutus squealed as he saw the rat, and hid behind Harriet.

“See what I mean?” growled Clarice. Then, quick as a flash, her paw shot out, and moments later, before Harriet’s horrified gaze, the rat was in her mouth, face down, and within seconds it disappeared, whole and hairy, down her throat, only the tail still hanging out. One more gulp, and the tail, too, disappeared down the hatch.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Brutus cried, his paws on his head as he stared at Clarice, absolutely horrified.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” Clarice said as she burped. “So if you want a nice juicy rat, help yourselves. No one has ever accused Clarice of being stingy.”

Harriet gulped. “But you ate it alive!”

“Of course I ate it alive. What did you expect, that I would chop it into little pieces and fry it with onions and carrots?”

“That would be nice,” Brutus admitted. “Though it would probably need seasoning.”

“Look, if you’ve got mice, you need to put your paw down. Eat a couple of the big ones, and the rest will get the message and scatter. If you don’t, they’ll reproduce and soon you’ll be overrun with the vile creatures. Though it sounds like you already are.”

“But Clarice, I can’t,” said Harriet.

“You can’t what? Eat them? Then tell your human to buy mousetraps and get rid of them that way. I wouldn’t advocate poison. That stuff has a habit of getting into your food, too, and you’ll get a nasty tummy ache and, worst case, die a pretty painful death.”

“I don’t think Odelia wants to put out mousetraps, though.”

“Why the hell not?”

“She feels they’re not humane.”

Clarice barked a short laugh. “My God. What a joke.” She thought for a moment. “There is such a thing as a humane mousetrap. You catch the suckers and dump ‘em somewhere.”

“But won’t they find their way back?”

“Possibly,” said Clarice, who seemed to be something of an expert. “Which is why it’s best if you simply kill a couple, then the rest will skedaddle.”

Harriet nodded solemnly. She’d wanted to atone for her nasty Chloe letters to Max and Dooley by getting rid of the mice for them, but it was dawning on her that this was not going to happen. She’d have to figure out another way.

“Thanks, Clarice,” she said finally. “Thanks for all your advice. And you know you always have a home with us, and food if you want it, right?”

Clarice softened. “Yeah, I know. But I like it out here. I like the freedom, and I like the hunt, too. Not much fun hunting a bowl of kibble, if you know what I mean.”

She didn’t, but said she did. And then they were off, before Clarice gobbled down another humongous rat and caused Harriet to throw up her breakfast.

And as they walked out of the alley, Brutus said, “Looks like we’re on our own, baby cakes.”

“Yeah, looks like.”

“You feel bad about calling Max obnoxious and Dooley a dummy, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” she confessed. “I shouldn’t have written that, and I can’t even take it back without revealing that I’m Chloe.” She sighed. “Oh, Brutus, why does my temper always get the better of me?”

“Actually it’s what I like about you, sugar lump. Your passion.”

She smiled. “Only you could turn a negative into a positive like that, honey bear.”

“You could always issue a retraction,” he suggested.

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You could say that you mixed up the questions, and then you could post the real answers to Max and Dooley’s questions this time. I’ll bet they’d be over the moon.”

“Brutus, but that’s genius!”

“Oh, well,” he said modestly. “I get these brainwaves, you know.”

“Let’s go and see Odelia right now. I’ll dictate two new responses and make Max and Dooley happy again.”

“What will you tell them?”

She smiled. “Oh, I know exactly what I’ll tell them.”

Chapter 25

Odelia was hard at work in her office when Harriet came traipsing in, followed by Brutus.

“Hey, you guys,” said Odelia. “So nice to see you.”

“Odelia, I have a confession to make,” said Harriet.

“Oh?” Both cats jumped up onto her desk, and Harriet perched herself on the corner, her tail nicely draped around herself. Odelia, in spite of her long association with cats, still admired their gracefulness and poise and she did so now.

“Max and Dooley asked me a question. Well, actually they asked Chloe a question, and I feel like I let them down with my response.”

“I wondered about that,” Odelia confessed. “If I remember correctly you called Max obnoxious and Dooley dumb, right?”

“I know,” said Harriet ruefully, “and I regret it now. I misinterpreted their questions and wanted to teach them a lesson. Only I was wrong and I want to make things right again. So could you maybe put a new response on the website and add a disclaimer?”

“Something along the lines of ‘There was a mix-up and the wrong answers were posted with the wrong questions,’” said Brutus.

“Please, please, please?” asked Harriet, giving her a pleading look.

“Okay, sure,” said Odelia, and opened a new window on her computer. “So what do you want me to write this time?” And as she listened to Harriet’s response, she smiled. It sounded a lot better than the earlier one, she had to admit. When they were done, she posted the copy online and announced to a happy Harriet that her mission had been a success. “Your column is doing very well,” she added. “It’s getting even more clicks and shares than Gabi’s.”

“Are you ever going to tell us who this Gabi person is, Odelia?” asked Harriet.

“I would if I knew. But Dan is keeping her identity under wraps.”

“Too bad. I think she’s the best.”

“Uh-huh,” said Odelia, who didn’t agree. Gabi’s responses to herself and the rest of her family had all been a little one-sided, all of them revolving around the topic of Uncle Alec’s non-existent ambitions to become Hampton Cove’s next mayor. If she didn’t know any better it was almost as if her grandmother was holding Gabi’s pen, but of course that was impossible, as Dan would never give such an important job to a person as notoriously querulous and belligerent as her grandmother. Plus, Gabi worked really hard. Dozens and dozens of questions came in every day, and she dutifully answered every single one of them, with only the best ones making it to the site, the rest delivered to the person’s inbox. So whoever this Gabi was, she had a full-time job with her advice column, something which she couldn’t see Gran accomplish, on top of her work for Dad and now her sleuthing efforts, too.

Just then, the door to the outer office opened and… Gran walked in, accompanied by Scarlett. They made a beeline for Dan’s office but, when they spotted Odelia watching them, immediately halted in their tracks, then made for her office instead.

“Oops,” said Gran. “Almost walked into the wrong office there.”

“Silly us,” said Scarlett with a grin.

“So what did you find out?” asked Odelia.

Dan’s door opened and he stuck his head out. “Oh, hi, Vesta. Scarlett.” And then promptly he retracted his head and was gone again.

“Well, it was just as Sandy said: the man was a first-class womanizer,” said Gran.

“Incredible stamina,” said Scarlett with a touch of admiration in her voice. “He bedded every single woman in that house. The maids, the cook, the housekeeper, the—”

“Yeah, yeah, you get the picture,” said Vesta. “So we talked to all of them, and nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“You always told me that a true detective gets a tingle when she hits upon a valid clue, right? Well, I didn’t feel a single tingle at any point.”

“I didn’t feel a tingle either,” Scarlett said. “Not one teensy tiny tingle. Though I did have to tinkle at one point, but Vesta assured me that doesn’t count.”

“No, tinkles don’t count,” said Gran. “Only tingles.”

“So the cook, the maids, the housekeeper…”

“They all slept with the guy at some point or another, but none of them held any particular grudge against the man. They all knew what they were getting into, and they even turned it into a game. After he’d slept with one of the maids, she told the rest of the household, and so they wondered how long it would take before he got started on them.”

“It didn’t take long,” Scarlett revealed.

“No, it didn’t take long at all. So they made a list of all of the staff and then put a green checkmark next to the name when Kirk had offered them his services. It was like a game to them, and they all admitted they liked him well enough. He was handsome and charming, but not exactly the kind of guy they’d swoon over or lose their hearts to.”

“So no jealousy or other emotion powerful enough to kill the guy over,” said Odelia.

“Nothing of the kind. He had fun with them, they had fun with him, and that’s it.”

“And what about Allison?”

“What about her?”

“Well, did they think she was lying when she told me she didn’t do it?”

“No, they don’t think she’s capable of murder.”

“They like her,” said Scarlett. “They think she’s a great boss. Very nice and even-tempered and reasonable. She even paid them extra when they had to work overtime on account of the fact that Kirk came to stay.”

“And then of course Kirk paid them in kind,” said Vesta acerbically.

Scarlett laughed at this.” Vesta, you’re so funny.”

“Thanks,” said Gran with a smile. “So what do you want us to do next?”

“I don’t know,” said Odelia, thinking. She felt like the owner of a private detective agency, instructing her operatives in the field. “What did Max and Dooley find out?”

“Nothing special. Jasmine thinks that Allison is the guilty party, but that’s probably because Allison refuses to buy Jasmine gourmet food. She feels that Jasmine doesn’t always behave, and Kirk told her he should give her plain cat food until she does.”

“So that’s the story,” said Odelia with a smile. “I figured it was something like that.”

“This is so fascinating,” said Scarlett. “The way you guys can actually talk to your cats. There’s so much information there.”

“Yeah, lots and lots,” Gran agreed.

“There must be other venues we can pursue,” said Odelia, leaning back as she thought for a moment. She stared at Harriet and Brutus, who’d made themselves comfortable on her desk.

“Don’t look at me,” said Harriet. “I haven’t got a clue what to do.”

“Me neither,” Brutus chimed in.

“Well, I give up,” said Odelia, throwing up her arms. “We talked to the entire staff, Allison and Mia, the ex-wife, the business partner. I mean, who else is there?”

“Maybe we can sleep on it,” Scarlett suggested. “The best ideas usually come to me when I’m sleeping,” she added when both Gran and Odelia gave her curious glances. “And then of course there’s that other thing we still need to do, Vesta.”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Gran.

“What other thing?” asked Odelia.

“Oh, nothing,” said Gran. “Just something Scarlett and I are cooking up.”

Odelia cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. “You and Scarlett? I thought you two hated each other.”

“Hate is a strong word,” said Gran.

“Yeah, much too strong,” Scarlett agreed.

And then the two ladies were off, leaving Odelia like a general without troops and without ideas.

“You should talk to Max,” Harriet now suggested. “He usually has a lot of bright ideas.”

“She’s right,” Brutus agreed. “Max is the smart one. Ask him what he thinks.”

Odelia thunked her head against her desk. What a great detective she was, if the only way she ever solved a crime was by asking her cats.

Chapter 26

Charlene Butterwick was sitting in her office working late. Even though Hampton Cove was a small town, its mayor never stinted for work. She was now looking at a proposal from a consortium of investors to turn a plot of farmland into a golf course, and wondered if she shouldn’t turn it into a housing development or park instead. Tough choice.

She got up from behind her desk and walked over to the window. She let her long blond tresses glide through her fingers and swept them away from her brow and over her shoulders, then adjusted her glasses and surveyed her domain. Across from town square, where the statue of one of the town’s previous mayors stood erect and forbidding, she could see the police station, and as usual, she couldn’t help but smile.

She could look straight into the office of Hampton Cove’s chief of police, and suddenly, on a whim, she picked up her phone and called his number. As she stood in front of the window, she saw the Chief pick up his phone from his desk and answer her.

“Chief Lip,” she said by way of greeting.

“Madam Mayor,” was his instant response, and she could almost see the smile sliding up his face.

“I just wanted to ask about the case,” she said, after a moment’s pause. “Um, the Kirk Weaver case? People have been asking about that.”

“Oh, right. Well, Chase is handling that one, along with my niece.”

“And your mother and her friend. I know,” she said with a slight grin. No other town would ever allow civilians to insert themselves into a murder inquiry, but things were different in Hampton Cove, and since the Chief always got his guy, or gal, she didn’t mind.

“Yeah, well, my mother likes to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong. If you want me to call her off, I’ll gladly do so.”

“No, no, that’s all right. So what’s the verdict?”

“Nothing yet. My niece just called me. They’ve interviewed every possible suspect and so far nothing. And Chase checked out the alibi of Kirk’s business partner and it checks out, so he’s off the hook, too.”

“And no other suspects so far?”

“None. But don’t you worry, Madam Mayor. We’re on the case, and we’ll nail the bastard.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Charlene, Chief?”

“And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Alec, Madam Mayor?”

“All right. Why don’t we cross over at the same time… Alec?”

“Good idea… Charlene.” They were both silent for a beat, then Alec cleared his throat. “Um, I have to get back to work, Charlene. But I’ll keep you posted on the investigation.”

“Thanks, Alec.”

They both rang off, and Charlene stared out at the form of the Chief seated behind his desk for a moment, then returned to her own desk. She wondered now if Gabi had already answered her question, and surfed to the Gazette website, and then to the advice section. And with a cry of joy she saw that her question was featured at the top of the page.

‘Dear Gabi. My first husband died a couple of years ago, and I’ve been a widow ever since, with no intention of letting another man into my heart. But lately I’ve felt a distinct flutter in my heart each time I encounter a certain colleague of mine. And I have the impression he likes me, too. Do you think I should encourage these feelings? Or will this only lead to awkwardness in the workplace? Signed, Timid Heart.’

With bated breath, the mayor read on, for Gabi’s much-anticipated response.

‘Dear Timid Heart. I think you should leave well enough alone. After all, you don’t want to thwart the man’s ambitions by making him your husband. Have you considered maybe he wants to be mayor himself and not your arm candy? So be smart and back off.’

Charlene jerked back, a little shocked. How had Gabi guessed that she was the mayor? She’d sent in the message anonymously, through the website contact form.

She glanced around, as if anticipating the entire town of Hampton Cove to look at her as if she was some kind of floozie, intent on snagging their chief of police as arm candy.

And as she shook her head, she vowed that this was the first and last time she ever asked Gabi a question. And as she bit her lip, she suddenly wondered if Alec read the advice column. She hoped he didn’t, and wouldn’t read her question, or Gabi’s response.

The moment Alec hung up the phone, he brought his computer back to life by tapping the space bar. Someone had asked Gabi a question, and her answer had been as strange and inappropriate as the one answering his own question.

He read the question again. Something about a woman wanting to date her colleague but being afraid of the consequences if it didn’t work out.

It was exactly the kind of question he’d asked himself, but in regard to Charlene. He liked her, he had to admit, but didn’t think she liked him back. And Gabi’s weird responses weren’t exactly helpful. If he didn’t know any better he would have thought it was his own mother writing Gabi’s letters. Which was impossible, of course. Dan Goory would never allow Vesta to take over the advice column, and in the process rub the entire population of Hampton Cove the wrong way.

Or would he?

Chapter 27

“We have to do something, Max,” said Dooley.

“I know,” I said.

“This can’t go on.”

“I know.”

“If this keeps up there will be droppings in Odelia’s bed next.”

“I know.”

“On her pillow.”

“I know!”

We both sat staring at the top step to the basement, where now a neat row of droppings had been placed, one next to the other, like little soldiers on parade. There were a dozen of them, all in all, perfectly shaped and lined up with Teutonic precision.

Behind us, Harriet and Brutus had entered, and now joined us.

“Is that what I think it is?” said Harriet.

Both Dooley and I nodded silently.

“We talked to Clarice this afternoon,” Brutus announced.

“Oh?” I said, still staring at the droppings. I simply couldn’t drag my eyes away from the horrid sight. And if I pricked up my ears, I could almost hear the mice snicker in the basement, imagining the looks on our faces at the sight of their latest offering.

“She told us either to eat the mice, or to convince Odelia to put out humane mousetraps and catch them, then put them somewhere.”

“She gobbled up a rat,” said Harriet. “Can you imagine? An entire rat! Brr.”

“It was a horrible sight,” Brutus confirmed. “One that will haunt me forever.”

“We talked to Jasmine,” I said. “Mia Gray’s Persian?”

“I think she’s actually Allison Gray’s Persian,” Dooley corrected me gently.

“Right. Well, she told us the same thing. To eat the mice and show them who’s boss. She claims it’s a cat’s duty to keep their human’s house free of mice and other vermin.”

“It’s sound advice,” Brutus agreed. “But I can’t do it.”

“Me neither,” said Harriet.

“Or me,” I said.

“And me,” Dooley muttered.

“We’re a couple of pussies, aren’t we, you guys?” said Harriet with a sad laugh.

“Yeah, real pussies,” I agreed.

“So there’s only one thing we can do now,” said Brutus, “and that’s to give Odelia the bad news, and tell her the only way to get rid of the creatures is to collect them in traps and put them out to pasture someplace far, far away, and hope they don’t come back.”

“They came back this time, didn’t they?” said Harriet. “So what makes you think they won’t come back again?”

We were all quiet for a moment, as we contemplated a life filled with mouse droppings from now, more and more each day, until we drowned in the stuff. It was not a pleasant thought.

“Oh, before I forget,” said Harriet suddenly, “Chloe has written new answers to your questions.”

“New answers?” I said. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it turns out she made a mistake. A silly mistake. She mixed up the questions and answers, or at least someone did, and so she decided to write a rectification.”

“A whatsification?” asked Dooley.

“Just read it, will you? I think you’ll like this answer better than the last one.”

I moved over to the couch, hopped on, and switched on the tablet. Harriet was right: Chloe’s column had two new items.

“Dear Brave Heart,” I read aloud. “My apologies for my last response. I never meant to call you obnoxious. A terrible mix-up. Please don’t worry about finding love again. Human nature and feline nature both are resilient, and the heart even more so. At any age and under any circumstances can a person, or a cat, find love, for the first time or the second time or the hundredth time. Don’t doubt it for a second. Yours, Chloe.”

I wiped away a tear as Dooley read his response.

“So beautiful,” I muttered. “I love it.”

“Dear Hopeful Heart,” Dooley read. “Static electricity indeed is a powerful force of nature, and shouldn’t be underestimated. Do I think that there’s still hope for your friends to have lots and lots of babies? Of course I do! And I think it’s so wonderful of you to ask the question. It shows that you’re a true friend with your heart in the right place—a friend that every cat would be proud to have. Always yours, Chloe.”

“What a lovely response!” Dooley cried, his eyes moist.

Even Harriet’s eyes were suspiciously shiny, and Brutus was wiping at his face.

“So nice of Chloe to correct her mistake,” I said in a husky voice. “And so nice to know that there’s still a chance for Mia to find love again.”

“And for you guys to have babies!” said Dooley. “Lots and lots of them!”

Harriet laughed, and so did Brutus.

“Now all you need to do is rub up against each other as much as you can,” said Dooley. “Create plenty of static electricity. And you see that it will happen. Chloe said so.”

“Yes, Chloe said so,” Harriet agreed, and for some reason pressed Dooley to her bosom and gave him a big smacking kiss on the brow. “You’re the best, Dooley. And you, Max.”

But before she could repeat the procedure with me, I respectfully bowed out. Don’t get me wrong. I like Harriet. In fact I love her like a sister, but I don’t enjoy wet kisses planted all over my face, thank you very much.

And I was just scanning the website again to read Chloe’s answer a second time, when something whizzed past my field of vision, and when I looked up, I saw that a mouse was racing past, on its way from the kitchen to the basement, hoisting a very large piece of cheese over its tiny little cranium, and cackling all the way with glee!

Chapter 28

When Odelia arrived home that night, she had the impression that her cats were looking at her a little strangely. She didn’t know why, and when she asked them, they acted surprised, so she decided not to pursue the matter. If there was something wrong, sooner or later they’d tell her.

Before she left the house through the kitchen door, she asked Harriet if everything was all right, and Harriet gave her a wink and said that Chloe’s new answers had proven a big hit with Max and Dooley.

“That’s great,” said Odelia with a smile. She didn’t like it when her cats didn’t get along, and it was nice to see that the wrinkles had all been smoothed out again.

She walked through the opening in the hedge that divided her backyard from her parents’, then into the house through the kitchen. Mom was busily cooking something, but looked a little out of sorts, she thought.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Mom looked up, as if she hadn’t even noticed she’d joined her. “Mh? Oh, nothing.” And as she chopped some onions, she suddenly said, “Do you remember what we were talking about yesterday?”

“You mean the trip to Europe?”

“Yeah, that. Well, I posted a follow-up question, and you’ll never guess what Gabi wrote.”

“I think I can guess,” said Odelia.

“She told me not to be so selfish and think about myself all the time while I have a brother who wants to become the next mayor and isn’t doing a damn thing about it.”

“Sounds familiar,” said Odelia, nodding.

“Almost as if your grandmother wrote that,” said Mom, wiping away a tear.

“Oh, don’t cry, Mom,” said Odelia, who hated to see her mother sad.

“I’m not,” said Mom in a choked voice. “It’s the onions.”

Odelia was going to say something else, but just then her dad walked in, planted a kiss on the top of her head, then gave his wife a kiss on the cheek and said, “The weirdest thing. Vesta didn’t show up for work today, or call. Any idea what could have happened?”

“Gran decided to help me out with an investigation,” said Odelia.

“Oh, not again,” said her father, sounding a little dismayed.

“Yeah, and she even has a new sleuthmate.”

“Who?”

“Scarlett Canyon. The two of them have been interrogating people all day today, and yesterday, too.”

“Scarlett Canyon,” said Dad, looking stunned. “And they haven’t killed each other?”

“Not yet,” said Odelia.

“But… I thought your grandmother hated Scarlett?” said Mom, wiping her hands on her apron.

“I thought so, too, but they’ve been doing amazingly. They interviewed Kirk’s wife today, and got a lot of information out of her, and then they went back to Allison Gray’s place and interviewed the entire staff.”

“I wonder how long it will last,” said Dad. “Not long, I imagine.”

And as if summoned, Gran walked in, and said, “Need any help, Marge?”

“Yes, if you could get the lamb chops out of the fridge for me, and start on those?”

Gran did as she was told, and didn’t even offer a word of protest, which was a rare thing. Odelia, Mom and Dad shared a look of surprise, and as Gran started preparing dinner, along with Mom, with Odelia and Dad lending a hand, Gran was surprisingly docile.

“So I hear you’ve been working together with Scarlett?” asked Mom finally, when she couldn’t restrain herself any longer.

“Yeah, we have. Investigating the murder of Kirk Weaver, the cat whisperer. Nasty business. But also fascinating. Do you want me to make dessert, Marge? It’s no bother.”

“Yes, please,” said Mom, a little stunned at so much obsequiousness.

“And what have you found out so far?” asked Dad.

“Nothing much, except that Kirk was a womanizer of the first water. And the weird thing is that it worked for him, too. He slept with every single female in Allison’s house, Allison and her niece included.”

“Well, someone must have been upset with him,” said Mom. “Or else they wouldn’t have killed him.”

“Yeah, someone hated the guy,” Gran confirmed. “So have you asked Max to help you, Odelia?”

“Not yet. My cats looked a little out of sorts when I got home just now, and I have no idea why.”

“Oh, I know why,” said Mom. “Harriet told me. It’s these mice you’ve got in your basement. They have no idea what to do about them.”

Dad emitted a curt bark of laughter. “Four cats and they don’t know what to do about the mice.”

“No, they don’t. Harriet told me she consulted with Clarice, and she told them to simply eat a couple, but Harriet doesn’t want to go there, and neither do the others. And Max and Dooley asked Jasmine, Allison Gray’s cat, and she told them the same thing: cats eat mice, and if you don’t want to eat them, you’re not a real cat.”

“Oh, poor babies,” said Odelia. “That’s why they looked so forlorn. They probably think that because they don’t want to kill mice they’re not real cats.”

“Well, they’re not,” said Dad, who was slicing tomatoes and taking about five minutes per slice. “Cats eat mice. That’s a fact. And if they don’t, what does that make them?”

“It makes them humane felines,” said Mom, a little heatedly, “and in my book that’s a damn good thing.”

“Okay, fine,” said Dad, and dumped the tomatoes into a bowl, then walked out of the kitchen.

Gran and Odelia shared a look of surprise. “Are you and Dad having a fight?” asked Odelia finally.

“Oh, it’s this whole European trip thing,” said Mom, pressing a hand to her forehead and looking very tired all of a sudden. “Tex doesn’t want to go, since he’s got so much on his plate at the office, and I have a feeling we’ll never get out of Hampton Cove and see the rest of the world. And when I asked Gabi all she told me was this nonsensical stuff about Alec running for mayor.”

“You’re not happy with Gabi’s answer?” asked Gran as she popped an olive into her mouth.

“No, I’m not. I don’t know where Dan got that woman but she’s obviously crazy. She only has one answer for every single question: Alec should run for mayor. Almost as if…” She paused, directed a curious look at her mother, then turned around and started fiddling with the oven.

“And you, Odelia? Did you like the answer Gabi gave you?” asked Gran.

“I liked the first one, but not the latest one. I asked if I should gently prompt Chase to set a date for the wedding, or leave well enough alone, and instead she wrote something about Uncle Alec running for mayor. As if there’s nothing more important in the whole wide world than running for mayor, while we have a perfectly fine mayor already in place, and Uncle Alec loves his job and would never want another.”

“I see,” said Gran quietly. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound like the kind of answer I’d hope to get.”

“Did you ask her anything?” asked Mom.

“Not yet, but I’m thinking about it,” said Gran, gritting her teeth a little. “In fact I think I’m going to write her a nice big letter first thing tomorrow. And if she tells me I should make Alec run for mayor I just might go over there and give her a punch in the snoot.”

“Go where?” asked Odelia. “Gabi lives in the Midwest.”

But Gran was already walking out of the kitchen to go and watch Jeopardy.

Chapter 29

That night, instead of stepping out and going to the park to hang out with my friends, I decided to stay in and guard Odelia’s bedroom. I may not be as keen on swallowing down mice like Clarice or Jasmine, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stand idly by while they deposit the products of their digestive process on my human’s pillowcase.

So I’d jumped up on the bed and decided to be vigilant. If a mouse came sneaking into the room to do its dirty deed under the cover of nightfall, I’d simply jump on top of it and make sure it thought twice before giving the dastardly scheme a second thought.

And so it was that I was soon snoring away to my heart’s content. What? It’s hard to have to listen to two humans fast asleep nearby and not fall asleep yourself, too.

It must have been the middle of the night when I woke up from a strange sound, and I gave my friend Dooley a poke in the ribs.

“But how do you keep it so white, Jasmine—what?” he said, awakening with a start.

“I think I heard something,” I said. “Listen.”

He listened, and so did I. And there it was again. A soft trip-trip-tripping sound.

He whispered, “I hear a tripping sound, Max. Like tiny little feet.”

“Yeah, me too.”

So we both dropped down from the bed and tiptoed into the corridor to see what was going on.

And as we looked down from the landing and into the living room below, the most horrendous sight greeted our eyes: dozens and dozens of mice were forming a long conga line that stretched all the way to the kitchen, and were raiding the fridge, items of food being carried back to the basement!

“No way!” I cried, and was already starting down the stairs before having come up with a strategy of campaign.

Napoleon Bonaparte would have told me that engaging in battle without a proper plan of action is usually a bad idea, and he would have been right. By the time I was downstairs, the mice had all disappeared, and so had the food!

“They must have heard me,” I said, panting as Dooley joined me in the kitchen.

The fridge was open, and it was practically empty, the kitchen a mess. The cheeky little buggers had even gnawed a hole in our bag of kibble, and absconded with a fair amount! Obviously the mice had done themselves well, and all of it under our noses!

“That’s it,” I told Dooley. “I can’t stand this anymore!” And I made for the basement.

“What are you going to do, Max?” he cried.

“I have no idea, but I have to do something! Put my paw down, at the very least.”

So I descended the wooden stairs into the darkness, and quickly saw that I was on enemy terrain: dozens of beady little eyes were blinking back at me in the semi-darkness, and I could even hear giggling and snickering.

“Hey, Tom,” said one of the mice. “Come to pay us a visit, have you?”

“My name is Max,” I said, “Not Tom.”

“And my name is Dooley,” said Dooley.

“I want to speak to your leader,” I said, looking around for the biggest, meanest mouse of the bunch.

“We don’t have a leader,” said one of the mice. “But we do have a pa. Pa!” he hollered. “There’s someone here to see you!”

And there he was: a big and hairy mouse, though not the biggest of the bunch, as I’d surmised.

“What do you want?” he asked, not all that friendly.

“I want you to vacate these premises at once,” I said. “This is not your home, and I want you to leave. All of you. Now.”

More laughter and more snickers. “Look, this is our home just as much as it is yours, cat,” said the mouse.

“No, it’s not. Odelia has taken us in, she’s adopted us. She never adopted you lot.”

“Well, like it or not, we’re here to stay.”

“Look, this can’t go on like this. First the poo, and now the fridge. This is too much!”

He frowned. “Poo? What poo?”

“The poo on the stairs. First one poo, and then a dozen, and tomorrow probably a hundred!”

The mouse glanced around at his flock, and said, in a stern kind of voice, “What’s all this about poo on steps, kids?”

“Oh, it was just a joke, Pa,” said one of the smaller mice.

“Yeah, just joshing,” said another.

“Look, we run a clean house,” said the mouse, “and there will be no pooping on stairs, all right? Do I make myself clear?”

Another mouse came joining the first one, emerging from a tiny hole in the wall, right next to the bicycle Chase had once put there, with a view to one day restoring it.

“What’s all this shouting, Pa?” asked the newcomer. “I can’t sleep for all the noise.”

“Ma, your kids have been very naughty,” said the mouse called Pa.

“They’re your kids, too, Pa.” She sighed. “What have they done this time?”

“Well, cat? What have they done?” asked Pa.

“They’ve pooped on the basement stairs,” said Dooley.

“By all accounts not a nice thing to do,” I added.

“No, that’s not very nice at all. Kids, what have I always told you?” said Ma.

“No pooping in the house,” dozens of mice dutifully intoned.

“So what’s this I hear about you misbehaving?”

“We’re sorry, Ma,” said one of the mice.

“It won’t happen again,” said another.

“Damn skippy it won’t happen again. Cause if it does, I’ll spank your bottoms so hard you won’t be able to sit on your tails for a week!”

“And then there’s the matter of the fridge,” I pointed out.

“What fridge? What are you talking about?” asked Pa.

“Your offspring were just raiding the fridge, emptying it out.”

“Kids!” bellowed Pa. “Is this true?”

“Yeah, Pa,” said one of his kids.

“Just having a midnight snack,” said another.

“Midnight cravings are no excuse to go and steal food!” said Pa.

“Your pa and I provide you with plenty of nutritious food so you don’t have to go out and steal from the nice people inhabiting this house,” said his wife.

“Yes, Ma. Yes, Pa,” said the kids, sounding annoyed to be told off in front of two cats.

“Now if there’s nothing else, I’d like to go back to sleep, cat,” said Ma.

“My name is Max, by the way,” I said, starting to see I’d totally misread these mice.

“And I’m Dooley,” said Dooley.

“I’m Helga, and this is Hector, and we run a clean house with strict rules. No pooping on steps, no stealing of food, no chewing on computer cables. We provide our kids a nutritious diet consisting of berries and seeds we source from the backyard, insects and beetles we find inside, and in so doing keep your house free of bugs and roaches and suchlike pests. We believe in paying our dues and being a credit to any homeowner.”

“Yeah, we don’t want any trouble, Max,” said Hector. “And I apologize for my kids’ appalling behavior. They’re a little rambunctious sometimes, but they’re good kids.”

“I’d like to add it’s very good of you to keep us informed of what they’ve been up to,” said Helga with a nod. “There’s so many of them it’s hard to keep track sometimes.”

“So… can you guarantee us this won’t happen again?” I asked.

“You have my word, Max,” said Hector, holding up a small paw. “I believe in being neighborly, and I hope you feel the same way.”

“Well, I do, actually,” I said, much relieved as I tapped his paw. “I mean, if you promise to keep the house free of bugs and roaches, I don’t see why we all can’t live together.”

“In perfect harmony,” Dooley sang softly.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Hector, looking pleased, his nose twitching happily.

“Now if there’s nothing further, I’m going back to sleep,” said his wife. “I have an early day tomorrow, and it’s very late already. So goodnight, cats. And goodnight, kids.”

“Goodnight, Ma,” said the kids. “Goodnight, Pa.”

And before I could say anything more, Helga and her offspring were gone. One moment they were there, the next they’d disappeared into the walls.

“So are we good?” asked Hector anxiously.

“Yeah, we’re good,” I said. “I’ll tell Odelia she doesn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Odelia is the homeowner?”

“Yeah, she is. She’s nice. She’s not going to try and kill you with poison or whatever.”

“You’re pretty exceptional cats yourselves. You don’t hunt mice, like most cats do?”

“No, we don’t believe in that sort of thing,” I said.

“We’re humanists,” Dooley explained.

“Admirable,” said Hector.

“Oh, one more question,” I said. “A couple of months ago there was a family of mice living next door. That wasn’t you guys, was it?”

“No, that was Molly and Rupert.” He sniffed. “We don’t like Rupert. He’s a distant cousin thrice removed, but hasn’t got the same high standards and values we have. He’s more what you might call a squatter, and for that reason gets kicked out of his home on a regular basis. We believe in keeping ourselves to ourselves, and not making trouble.”

“It’s better this way,” I said.

“Much better,” Dooley agreed.

“Okay, well, sleep tight, fellas. And don’t let the bed bugs bite. And if they do, just tell me and I’ll gladly take them off your paws.” And laughing at his own little joke, he retreated, and once again the basement was quiet as a… mouse.

And as Dooley and I trudged up the stairs again, he whispered, “Very nice people, these mice, Max.”

And I had to admit that he was right. They were very nice. And they’d just saved us a lot of trouble.

“You see, Dooley,” I said. “Not all cats show brute force when fighting a mouse infestation. Some cats show kindness, decency and respect, and it gets you just as far.”

“Or even further.”

“Or even further,” I agreed.

I just hoped Hector and Helga would be able to keep their rambunctious family on a tight rein.

Chapter 30

Scarlett Canyon woke up from an incessant ringing, and glanced over to her nightstand, wondering if by some act of stupidity she’d put her alarm clock last night. But then she remembered she hadn’t owned an alarm clock in years. When she retired she’d thrown it in the trash and good riddance, too. After selling clothes for a living for over forty years, enough was enough.

She picked up her phone and saw that it was only five o’clock, and realized simultaneously that it was actually her doorbell that was ringing, and not her alarm.

Now what kind of fool could be ringing her doorbell at such an ungodly hour?

Cursing, she got out of bed, removed the hair cover that kept her platinum perm in position, and removed the gel mask that kept her face in position.

Staggering across the bedroom floor, she grabbed her nightgown, cinched the strap, and walked to the front door of her apartment. Peeking through the little peephole, she was surprised to find Vesta Muffin standing on her doorstep.

Relief, too, though, if she had to be honest. At least it wasn’t some Jack the Ripper wannabe come to carve her up, or the taxman to announce that the IRS had had another look at her file and decided she owed a couple of thousand dollars in back taxes.

So she opened the door and said in merry voice, “Don’t tell me you found a clue and couldn’t wait to tell me!”

But Vesta’s face spelled storm, and Scarlett’s own face sagged, in spite of the fancy treatments she paid to keep it scaffolded in place. “I want a word with you,” said Vesta, and stomped in without waiting for an invitation.

Scarlett rolled her eyes, and muttered, “Here we go again.” She closed the door and followed her surprise guest into the living room. “What is it this time?” she asked. “Let me guess. Dan decided to give me a raise and not you and now you’re upset.”

“You’ve been sabotaging me,” said Vesta, wagging a pointy finger in her face. “And you thought I wouldn’t notice. Huh!”

“Sabotaging you? I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I can already tell you I don’t like to be accused of stuff I didn’t do.”

“You’ve been answering my family’s letters, pretending that these answers came from me, and giving them asinine advice.”

Scarlett shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Here. Listen to this,” said Vesta, and took out her phone. “My daughter wrote asking about a trip to Europe she’d like to take with her husband. Your response? ‘Screw your trip to Europe. Why are you being so selfish? Your brother wants to run for mayor and your job should be to help him since he’s not doing a damn thing about it himself.’”

Scarlett smiled. She couldn’t help it. It had the effect of a red flag on a bull, though.

“You did it on purpose! You tried to push me out! Admit it!”

Scarlett held up her hands. “Okay, all right! Dan told me he was hiring a second Gabi and when I discovered it was you I figured I needed to get rid of you as fast as I could!”

“But you told me two days ago you didn’t know he’d hired a second Gabi!”

“I lied, all right. He told me so I got nervous. And then I happened to look at his computer one day and saw your name and got even more nervous.”

“But why? There’s plenty of work for the two of us.”

“I panicked, okay! I just figured that if you came on board and Dan saw the quality of your responses, he’d soon realize you were the better Gabi and can my ass. So I decided to get rid of you before you got rid of me. Call it self-defense, but yeah, basically I tried to screw you over.”

She was standing, arms across her chest, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing. For some reason Vesta always managed to get a rise out of her.

“You tried to get me canned because you thought I was better than you? That’s just crazy!”

“Yeah, well, I read some of your stuff and it was pretty darn good.”

“I thought the same thing when I saw your stuff. I thought I could never beat you, so I did my best to live up to the standard you set.”

Scarlett looked up at this. “You thought my stuff was good?”

“Of course I did! The things you told Mrs. Baumgartner about her hypochondria was brilliant. And it worked! She hasn’t been in for days now. Used to be she was there every single day.”

“Yeah, I was kinda proud of that one,” said Scarlett.

“You’re good, Scarlett, so there really was no need to go after me.”

“Well, to be honest, I haven’t gone after you since we started working together on the Kirk Weaver case. Those answers were all written when I still hated your guts.”

“And when I still hated your guts,” said Vesta.

They stared at each other for a moment, then both burst out laughing. “We’re two crazy old bitches, aren’t we?” said Scarlett.

“Speak for yourself, you crazy old bitch,” said Vesta, and added, “You know I’ve enjoyed these last two days, working this case together. I’d forgotten how much fun we used to have, before Jack came between us.”

“Yeah, I should never have gotten involved with that loser,” said Scarlett. “He was a no-good jerk for cheating on you. Did you know he actually told me you were on a break?”

“Yeah, you told me about a million times. Only I never believed you.”

“But you do now, don’t you?”

Vesta hesitated. “The thing is, even if we were on a break, that still didn’t give you the right to bone my husband.”

“I know. That wasn’t my finest hour. He was crying, you know, and telling him how much he missed you, and how sad he was, and so I decided to comfort him and then one thing led to another and then you came in.”

“I know. I was there, remember?”

“Vividly.”

Vesta smiled. “Jack was an asshole.”

“He was an asshole.”

“Come here,” said Vesta, and then they hugged. It felt good.

“I missed you,” said Scarlett, in a choky voice.

“Me, too. Though I enjoyed our tussles.”

“Does this mean we’re not going to fight anymore?”

“I don’t know. We could, for old times’ sakes. But right now I feel like I need a friend more than I need an enemy.”

They let go and took a seat at the table.

“We’re both of us not getting any younger, Scarlett,” said Vesta. “So maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet and be friends again?”

“I would like that,” said Scarlett, wiping away a tear.

Vesta studied her for a moment. “Also, I don’t think I’ve seen you without the face paint these last couple of decades.”

“And? I probably look as if I walked out a tomb, right?”

“Nah, actually you look a lot better without makeup. More natural.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, really.”

“Do you want something? Tea, coffee… bourbon?”

“All of the above,” said Vesta with a grin.

Chapter 31

Odelia woke up feeling a little groggy. Somehow she’d dreamt of mice, and when she opened her eyes she found Max lying next to her, staring straight into her eyes, sphinx-style.

“Max,” she said, rubbing her eyes, then stretching. “What’s going on?”

“I just had an idea,” he announced.

“Uh-huh. That’s great. Can you tell me when I’m fully awake, or do you want to tell me now?”

“Now.”

“Yeah, okay. So what is it?”

“So Kirk was a womanizer, right?”

“Right,” she said, dragging her mind back to the case with some difficulty. She never was at her best or sharpest before she’d had her first coffee of the day.

“So of course he got with every single woman at Allison Gray’s place, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But what if he didn’t stop there? I mean, he was in town for a couple of weeks, and so at some point he must have run out of candidates. So what if he went into town and met a few more women and bedded them, too. And what if one of them had a husband who wasn’t too keen on Kirk seducing his lady love and decided to get some of his own back? Or maybe even the husband of one of the women at the house?”

“Brilliant,” Odelia muttered, and tried to sit up. Unfortunately Max was heavy, and pinning down the comforter, so she was effectively trapped. “Absolutely brilliant.”

“So what I suggest is that we start canvassing in town, and look at places where Kirk was seen. I’m thinking restaurants, bars, shops… the gym. And maybe look at security footage, too. We need to figure out what other women he was involved with.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Odelia, and started crawling over Chase, who now stirred.

“Nice,” he muttered. “Jumping my bones while I’m asleep. Have you no shame, woman?”

“Sorry, babe. The other exit is blocked.”

“So what do you think?” asked Max.

Odelia had passed Chase and now dropped to the floor on the other side of the bed.

“Are you all right down there?” asked Chase.

“Yeah, fine,” she croaked.

“You could have just told me about my morning breath, you know,” he said. “You didn’t have to jump ship.”

“You don’t have morning breath,” she said. “In fact you smell delicious in the morning. Almost too delicious for anyone to have a right to.”

“Thanks, babe,” he said with a smile. “I wish I could say the same about you.”

She screwed up her face in a comical expression and slapped him on the chest. “Nasty,” she said. “Very nasty, sir.”

“Just kidding. So what’s going on?”

“Max had an idea. Um… What was your idea, Max?”

“Kirk’s other girlfriends. We need to find them and talk to them.”

“Max says that Kirk must have other girlfriends besides Allison and Mia, so maybe finding them will tell us something.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Chase, then yawned. “Why don’t I make us some breakfast, and you make us some coffee.”

“Good idea,” she said, and started in the direction of the door.

“Oh, and Dooley and I made a deal with the mice,” said Max.

“You made a deal? What do you mean?”

“We negotiated a truce last night. They won’t bother us, if we don’t bother them.”

She stared at him. Was she still dreaming or had Max actually said he’d negotiated a truce with the colony of mice infesting her house?

“What did he say, babe?” asked Chase, also getting up now.

“I’m not sure. I think he said he’s negotiated a truce with the mice, but that sounds so unlikely I’m sure I misheard.”

“No, you didn’t, Odelia,” said Dooley, who now walked in. “We talked to the mice last night, and Helga and Hector promised us that their kids will behave from now on, and if they don’t all we need to do is say the word. They’re very anxious to do the right thing, aren’t they, Max?”

“Yeah, they’re very nice mice. Responsible parents, too.”

Odelia shook her head. “Mice, parents, Hector, Helga,” she muttered.

“Mh?” said Chase.

“I’m simply repeating what Dooley just told me.”

“Sounds like gibberish to me,” said Chase with a wink to Max and Dooley.

“Coffee,” Odelia said. “And quick.”

“Listen, babe,” said Chase as they both descended the stairs, “I know we said we wouldn’t plan our dinners anymore, as something always seems to come up at the last minute, but maybe we can give it one more shot? How about the Bourvil tonight at eight? I met the owner yesterday. He came into the office for some paperwork dealing with his restaurant’s security, and told me they have a live band every Thursday night. He said he’d reserve us a table with a great view of the band. So how about it?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” she said as she walked into the kitchen and started the coffee maker. “Let’s tempt fate one last time.”

“Great,” he said and planted a kiss on her brow.

Odelia opened the fridge and had the distinct impression things had been rearranged there, and lots of stuff had disappeared.

“Oh, that’s right,” said Max as he came padding into the kitchen. “The mice did that. But Hector promised me it wouldn’t happen again. In fact he was shocked when I told him about what happened.”

“Shocked,” Odelia repeated. “Hector the mouse was shocked.” She sighed. Sometimes she had the feeling she was living in an upside-down version of the real world.

Chapter 32

I was in excellent fettle as we started on our day, and a busy day it was, too. We were out in full force, determined to find Kirk’s killer. Chase and Odelia had teamed up, and so had Scarlett and Vesta, and of course Dooley and myself, and also Harriet and Brutus.

Our only objective was to find more potential suspects, and possibly the other women I had a hunch Kirk had associated with.

Vesta and Scarlett did the shops, Odelia and Chase canvassed the restaurants and bars, and we cats talked to any pets we could find that would be able to shed some light on this cat whisperer’s complicated and extremely busy love life.

As usual, we dropped by Kingman first. As the cat who saw all and knew all, it only made sense he’d be the one to deliver us that telling clue—the one clue that rules them all.

Unfortunately, for once Kingman had decided to let us down. In fact all he could talk about was… Chloe.

“I’m in love, you guys,” he said. “In love with Chloe, if you please.”

“Chloe? You mean Shanille?”

“Yeah. Probably. Maybe. I mean, look, intellectually I know that Chloe is Shanille, but emotionally I don’t, if you see what I mean.”

“No, actually I don’t.”

“Look, I read Chloe’s words and they just make me feel so close to her, you know. And they make my heart beat faster. Here, feel this.” And he grabbed my paw and placed it against his sizable and decidedly soft belly. I felt a rumbling sensation.

“I think your heart is located a little higher, Kingman,” I said.

“Yeah, whatever,” said Kingman. “It’s just that every time I read these words, I just know she’s talking to me. Listen to this.” His owner, Wilbur Vickery, had dropped a copy of the Gazette on the floor and Kingman now took a seat on top of it and started reading from Chloe’s latest column. “Dear Furry Heart. Don’t despair. Just look around. Love is everywhere. In the faces of the cats you meet, in the birds singing in the trees, in the butterflies flitting in the breeze, and even in the clouds drifting languidly in the blue sky. Love, love, love.” He looked up with a stupid grin on his wide mug. “See what I mean? She loves me, and I love her. We’re meant to be together. I just know it. I can feel it!”

“Um, I’m not sure that’s what it says, Kingman,” I said.

“That’s just because you don’t have a romantic bone in your body, Max. Of course it says that! She’s sending me messages in every single thing she writes. She’s talking to me with every word, every line, every response.”

“So you wrote her?” asked Dooley. “You’re Furry Heart?”

Kingman shrugged. “Not necessarily. But I just know this was meant for me. Me!”

And with a happy sigh he curled up on top of the newspaper, until Wilbur yelled, “Hey, Kingman! Get off that newspaper, will ya? I still gotta sell that thing.”

But Kingman wasn’t deterred. Still smiling beatifically, he got up and allowed Wilbur to pick up the newspaper and replace it on the rack, after wiping off Kingman’s drool.

“So what was the question you wanted to ask me, fellas?” Kingman finally said.

“Nothing,” I said. “It’s fine. We’ll just leave you to it, shall we?”

“Yeah, you do that, and if you see Shanille, tell her I feel the same way.”

And as Dooley and I walked away, Dooley said, “Kingman doesn’t seem entirely okay, Max. I worry about him. In fact he looks a little sickly. Did you see the weird expression on his face? I’m sure he’s coming down with something.”

“Kingman is in love, Dooley,” I said.

“In love? But he looks like he’s sick.”

“Infatuation can be like an affliction,” I explained. “The person feels faint, feverish, experiences strange sensations, and is prone to start giggling inanely at inopportune moments. And when the object of his affection doesn’t reciprocate that affection, he can even feel downright depressed.”

“I hope I never fall in love,” said Dooley earnestly. “It sounds pretty painful.”

“Oh, it’s not as bad as all that,” I hastened to say, and dispel the notion that love was a bad thing. “If the person you love does love you back, you’ll feel like you’re floating on air, and you will have butterflies flying around in your tummy.”

Dooley looked horrified. “Butterflies in my tummy! But how did they get in there, Max? And how do I get them out?!”

I decided not to elucidate. I’d only get myself into more trouble than it was worth. We bumped into Harriet and Brutus, then, in front of The Velvet Box, the jewelry store, and I could see Samantha’s shapely form as she sat in the window display, keeping an eye on things.

“What did Samantha say?” I asked.

“I think we’ve got a winner, Max,” said Harriet. “Samantha said she saw a man fitting Kirk’s description walk into the store a couple of days ago, arm in arm with a blond woman.”

“That sounds promising,” I agreed. “And?”

“Well, she wanted him to buy her a ring, and they looked at a couple, but he was undecided and said he’d come back and then they left. The woman didn’t look happy, Samantha said.”

“Any idea who this woman might be?”

Brutus nodded. “All she knows is that the woman is staying at the Hampton Cove Star, or at least she assumes she does, as they walked out of the store and then walked into the Star and she thinks she saw the woman stroll down Main Street yesterday, arm in arm with another woman.”

“So this woman is blond and… any other distinguishing features?” I asked.

“Nothing special. She was very pretty,” said Harriet. “Her friend had a tattoo, though. A small dolphin on the side of her neck.”

“So now we’re looking for a woman with blond hair, who’s staying at the Star, and who’s friends with a woman with a tattoo of a dolphin,” I summed up this latest haul. “Well done, Harriet and Brutus,” I said warmly. “This might just be the clue we need to catch this killer.”

Harriet and Brutus were both beaming, and suddenly Harriet blurted out, “I’m Chloe, by the way. I’m the one who’s been writing the pet advice column, not Shanille.”

I blinked at this unexpected admission, then smiled. “Thanks for telling us, Harriet. So it was you who called me obnoxious.”

“And me dumb,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say. But I misunderstood the question! I thought you were making fun of me. And you, too, Dooley. And that’s why I lashed out. It’s only when you explained to me what you both meant that I repented, and wrote those new answers. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Of course,” I said. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re a wonderful advice columnist. In fact I think you’re even better than Gabi.”

“I read all your answers,” said Dooley, “and I think they’re simply wonderful—every last one of them.”

“Thanks, you guys,” she said. “I know I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid of what you would say.”

“Is that what you asked Gabi? The secret question you wouldn’t tell us?” I asked, recollecting her early response to Gabi’s column.

“Yeah. I asked her if cats can write advice columns, too, and she said of course they can, and so I figured why not give it a try, you know? Be the first cat in history that enters the advice column world.”

“I would have told you but Harriet told me not to,” said Brutus.

“Well, now that you know, I want to ask you not to tell a soul, all right?” said Harriet. “Only you guys know, and Odelia, and no one else, please.”

“Of course,” I said. “My lips are sealed.”

Dooley stared at me. “No, they’re not. They’re still moving.”

“Just an expression, Dooley,” I said with a smile. “Just an expression.”

And as we went in search of Odelia, to tell her the good news about Kirk’s latest girlfriend, Dooley said, “Kingman is in love with you, Harriet. Or at least he’s in love with Chloe, who he still thinks is Shanille. And he thinks that everything you write is actually written for him, and filled with secret or not-so-secret messages.”

“Well, let him think so,” said Harriet. “Maybe a new romance will come out of this. Which is what Chloe is all about, isn’t it? Spreading sweetness and light?”

“And love,” added Brutus. “Don’t forget about love.”

“How could I forget, my love muffin,” said Harriet, and pressed a kiss to Brutus’s lips.

“Oh, snuggle pooh,” said Brutus.

“Oh, wuggle bear.”

Dooley and I shared a glance. Here we go again, the glance said. Chloe or not, Harriet would always be Harriet. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, either.

Chapter 33

Odelia and Chase hadn’t had much luck so far. None of the restaurants they’d visited remembered seeing a man answering to Kirk Weaver’s description in the last week, and neither had any of the bars or coffee shops. So when Odelia saw her four cats walking down the sidewalk looking excited and happy, she immediately perked up.

“I think they’ve got something,” she told Chase, grabbing his arm.

“Who got what?” he asked, then dropped his gaze to the pavement and got her drift. “Oh, of course.”

“Max,” she said as she crouched down. “Tell me some good news. I could use it right now.”

“Harriet, please tell Odelia what you discovered,” said Max.

“Well, a couple of days ago The Velvet Box had Kirk and a blond woman come in to look at rings. And a couple of days later the same blond woman walked by the store arm in arm with a dark-haired woman with a dolphin tattoo on the side of her neck, and Samantha is pretty sure the blond woman is staying at the Star, so what do you think?”

Odelia laughed, but then got up, as she didn’t want to be seen talking to her cats like a madwoman. “Very good,” she said under her breath as a passerby gave her a strange look. “I think you just blew this case wide open again.”

“Where did she blow the case, Max?” Odelia heard Dooley ask his friends, but she was already darting across the street, followed by Chase, as she honed in on the Hampton Cove Star, the town’s most popular hotel. “We’re looking for a blond woman who’s friends with a dark-haired woman with a dolphin tattoo,” she announced.

“I’m sure we’ll find her in no time,” Chase said dryly. “I mean, how many blond women could there possibly be staying at the Star?”

Only one, she hoped, though it wasn’t likely. They walked in, and headed straight for the front desk, where the desk clerk, a gangly teen, stood checking his phone, a bored expression on his face.

“Hi,” said Chase, producing his badge. “Can you help us out, buddy?”

“Depends,” the pimple-faced youth said, looking annoyed at the interruption.

“We’re looking for a blond woman,” said Odelia, a little out of breath.

“And she’s friends with a dark-haired woman with a dolphin tattoo,” said Chase added. “If that helps.”

“It doesn’t,” said the kid. “Do you have a name for me?”

“No, we don’t,” said Odelia. “But I mean, seriously, how many blond women could possibly be staying at the hotel, right?” She laughed.

The kid didn’t even crack a smile. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a little more specific. I need at least a surname.”

“Well, I don’t have a surname to give you. Only a description.”

“Not much of a description, though, is it?”

“Look, who knows the people staying here? Like… members of your housekeeping staff, maybe?”

“You want me to ask the cleaners if they happened to see a blond hair on one of the pillowcases in the last couple of days or so?” he suggested with a smirk.

Odelia suppressed a sudden impulse to grab the kid by the neck and squeeze.

“Don’t you have photo ID in that computer of yours?” asked Chase. “Can’t you scroll through it to look for any blondes?”

“First off, if you think I’ll let you sniff through our computer, think again. There are laws, you know. Privacy and stuff? And secondly, have you ever heard of hair dye? Blond today, brunette tomorrow?”

It was obvious the kid wasn’t going to cooperate, so Odelia took Chase’s arm, and led him into the lobby, where they took a seat on the same burgundy settees they’d sat on the day before. It seemed like they were spending an awful lot of time in this hotel.

“We’ll just sit here and wait until this blond woman and her friend come walking in or out,” she said. “I mean, sooner or later she has to pass by the lobby, right?”

“Could be that she already checked out,” said Chase. “In which case this whole thing is simply an exercise in futility. No, why don’t I call your uncle and maybe he can make this kid stop jerking us around?”

“You mean lean on him until he breaks?”

“Sounds like a plan, right?”

Just then, Vesta and Scarlett waltzed into the lobby, followed by four cats.

“What’s this I hear about a break in the case?” asked Vesta.

“There would be a break in the case, if the kid behind the reception desk would play ball,” said Chase. “But since he’s not, so far we’ve got zip. What have you got?”

“Nothing much. One girl remembers seeing Kirk, but he was by himself. Buying a bra,” said Scarlett, raising her eyebrows meaningfully.

“Probably a present for one of his lady friends,” Chase ventured, at which point all three women present rolled their eyes at him, the gesture clearly telegraphing ‘Duh!’

“Why don’t I have a crack at the kid?” Vesta suggested.

“And me,” said Scarlett, and before Odelia could stop them, both women were stalking up to the reception desk, the kid eyeing them with a distinct sense of disdain. He clearly wasn’t too fond of his job.

Odelia and Chase watched on as Vesta and Scarlett talked to the teenager, and saw his face change color. First from his natural pink to a bright beet red, then to a sickly white.

And as they made their way back, Vesta announced triumphantly, “We have a name and a room number, you guys and gals. The name is Norma Connors and the room 425.”

“Miss Connors is very blond and also has very big boobies—at least according to our pimply expert over there.”

“How did you do that?” asked Chase, a touch of awe in his voice.

“Well, first I told him that I’d tell his manager about the sex sites he’s been visiting on the front desk computer,” said Vesta.

“And then I told him I’d start screaming at the top of my lungs that he’d just touched my boob if he didn’t give me the room number of the pretty blonde with the girlfriend with the fish tattoo,” said Scarlett.

“How did you know he’d been surfing to naughty sites?” asked Odelia.

“Oh, will you look at the kid?” said Vesta. “He’s a teenager, hormones raging through his teenage body, and probably not a girlfriend in sight. Now let’s go, shall we? I believe we have a date with a suspicious blonde on the fourth floor.”

Chapter 34

It was a full elevator car that rode up to the fourth floor of the Star, packed with both human and feline detectives, all on the hunt for this mysterious blonde who may or may not have been involved with Kirk Weaver and who might or might not be able to shed some light on the man’s death.

“I feel like I should be the one to run point on this one,” said Gran after a moment’s silence. “After all it was my cats that provided the telling clue.”

“Technically it was Mom’s cat,” said Odelia. “Since Harriet is the one who discovered the existence of this mystery woman.”

“And since Marge is my daughter, I should be the one to lead the investigation,” Gran smoothly interjected.

“Brutus is actually Chase’s cat, and since he was also present when this clue was discovered, he should probably be the one to deal with this new witness and potential suspect,” said Odelia, rubbing her boyfriend’s arm.

Chase, who didn’t seem eager to get in the middle of an argument between his fiancée and his soon-to-be grandmother-in-law, wisely kept his tongue.

“I think I should be the one to ask the first question,” said Scarlett, “as it’s clear to me from the description that Norma Connors and I have a lot in common, and I feel we’ll immediately share a unique bond that will make her open up to me.”

“Oh, puh-lease,” said Gran. “Just because you both got the big boobies doesn’t mean she’ll confess to murder the moment she lays eyes on you, Scarlett.”

Scarlett sniffed, then said, “In the spirit of our newfound camaraderie I won’t dignify that dig at my boobies with a response, Vesta. I could have said that at least I have boobies, contrary to a certain flat-chested person I know, and that at least I look like a woman and not a man, but I won’t.”

Gran, who’d been silently grinding her teeth, looked as if she was ready to launch a verbal bazooka, but just then, and probably lucky for Scarlett, the elevator jerked to a stop, and the door zoomed open.

“We’re here,” said Odelia brightly, and hurried out.

“I think I should probably pose the opening question,” said Harriet as we all walked out. “After all, I was the one who talked to Samantha and found out about this woman.”

She had a point, I thought, but for one teensy tiny problem: I very much doubted whether our mystery blonde was one of those rare people who could talk to cats.

We all gathered in front of the door to room 425, and for a moment indecision reigned. Then, finally, Scarlett muttered, “Oh, for crying out loud,” and applied a firm fist to the door’s panel.

Moments later, there was a loud voice that shouted, “Coming. Just a minute!”

And then the door swung wide and a very perky-looking blond woman appeared. She was younger than I’d expected, with a halo of blond hair framing a lovely face, lit up by a welcoming and engaging smile. In fact she looked so pleasant I immediately discounted her as Kirk’s killer before I caught myself and remembered that sometimes the most horrific killers look just like you and me. Well, not me, perhaps, but probably you.

“Yes?” she said in a surprisingly soft and gentle voice. “Is this about the message of Jesus? Cause I already listened to your colleagues for two hours yesterday and even got a subscription to your magazine, just as they advised.”

“No, we’re not here to talk about Jesus,” said Gran, a little acerbically. “We’re all detectives, and we’re investigating the murder of Kirk Weaver, the cat whisperer. And we were hoping to have a word with you about the guy.”

“Oh, of course,” said the woman, and opened the door wide. “Come on in. And don’t look at the mess,” she added with a giggle.

We all stepped inside, and I wondered how a person as obviously gullible as this woman could have survived in life for so long. She hadn’t even asked for an ID or anything, nor asked the question why two old ladies, one of whom looked like an aged Fanny Hill, the other like Estelle Getty, and a burly stud-type male, along with a fair-haired reporter type, accompanied by no less than four cats, could ever be viewed as representing the long arm of the law.

“My name is Chase Kingsley,” said Chase. “And I’m a detective with the Hampton Cove Police Department.” He produced his badge, which the woman awarded scant attention, and made the necessary introductions. “These are my civilian consultants Odelia Poole, Vesta Muffin and Scarlett Canyon, all helping me investigate the murder of Mr. Weaver.”

“Oh, and you brought your cats along,” said the woman, crouching down to pet me. Immediately, and quite involuntarily, I might add, I started purring. She really was the sweetest soul I’d encountered in a murder investigation in a while.

“Yeah, they’re mine,” said Gran, still adopting the same gruff tone she liked to use when interviewing a suspect.

“And mine,” said Odelia, not wanting to be outdone by her grandmother.

“You are Norma Connors?” asked Chase, clearly taking charge, and rightly so, I thought, as he was the only representative of The Law in this room.

“That’s right,” she said. “Please take a seat.” She giggled again. “Though you’ll have to sit on the bed, I’m afraid.”

The humans all distributed themselves amongst the limited seating options available: Odelia grabbed a chair, and so did Gran, while Scarlett preferred to remove a few items of clothing from the bed and position herself there. Chase opted to remain standing, and was already taking out his notebook, the consummate professional.

“So tell us, Norma, how well did you know Kirk Weaver?”

“Oh, not very well at all,” said Norma as she sat down on the bed next to Scarlett, on whom she seemed to look as a kindred spirit, just as Scarlett had predicted. The women did share a certain resemblance.

“But you did know him.”

“Yes, I did. Well, I knew him from the television, of course, as we all do, and I always admired him. A man who can handle cats as well as he could is a man to be admired, don’t you think, Detective?”

“Yes. Yes, I guess he is,” said Chase, looking a little flustered as Norma directed a dazzling smile at him.

She was dressed in short shorts and a tank top that did little to conceal her curvy features. She also had those cornflower blue eyes that men go all gaga over, with long lashes she kept fluttering each time Chase opened his mouth to speak.

“So can you tell us a little more about your relationship with Mr. Weaver?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a relationship,” said Norma. “We went out a couple of times, and one of those times we ended up in here, in this very bed.” She giggled as she patted the nice white linens. “But that was only the one time.”

“And when was this?” asked Chase, his pencil poised over his little notebook.

Norma’s blue eyes searched the ceiling, and her button for a nose wrinkled prettily. “Um, I would say last Thursday?” Then her face cleared. “Wait a second.” And then to my surprise, she suddenly hollered, “Kim! Kim-my! Come out here a second, will ya!”

The door to the bathroom opened and a cloud of steam came out, followed by a dark-haired woman with short brown hair and… a small tattoo of a dolphin on the side of her neck. She was dressed in only a sports bra and a slip and gave us all a dark look. “What’s this? More Jehovah’s Witnesses? How many times do I have to tell you, Norma? You shouldn’t give these people all of your money.”

“But these aren’t Jehovah’s Witnesses, Kimmy.”

“Mormons?” asked Kimmy, studying Gran, who made a face.

“Do I look like a Mormon to you?” said Gran, getting worked up.

“Yeah, actually you do.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“They’re detectives, Kimmy. They’re investigating the murder of that cat whisperer guy we met last week.”

“Kirk? Oh, yeah. I remember him. Creepy-looking creep.”

“Would you call Kirk a creep?”

“Yeah, I would.”

“That’s only because you were jealous, Kimmy,” said Norma brightly. “Now can you tell this nice gentleman over there when Kirk came up to our room? Was it Thursday or Friday? I can’t remember.”

“Thursday,” said Kimmy decidedly. “And who are you?” she asked, directing a frank and critical look at Chase.

“Chase Kingsley. Detective,” said Chase. “And you are…”

“Kimmy Smith. I’m Norma’s wife.”

I could hear the collective gulp echo through the room as all those present put this information into their respective pipes and smoked it.

“You’re Norma’s… wife?” asked Chase.

“Yeah,” said Kimmy, tilting her chin. “Got a problem with that, stud?”

“No, of course not,” said Chase. “It’s just that…”

“Norma just told us that she had… relations with Kirk last week,” Odelia explained. “So how did you feel about that?”

“I didn’t like it, that’s for sure. But when we got married we agreed to have an open relationship, so if Norma wants to bring home some stray from time to time, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Oh, Kimmy,” said Norma sweetly, demurely folding her hands in her lap.

“I don’t like it, but I’m not going to stop her either.”

Eyes met all across the room, as detectives Chase, Vesta, Odelia and Scarlett all came to the same conclusion: they’d finally found themselves a most promising suspect.

“So let me get this straight,” said Gran. “You found your wife in bed with another man, and you didn’t object?”

“No, ma’am, I did not,” said Kimmy.

“And you don’t think it’s strange that only a couple of days after this meeting Kirk ends up dead?” asked Scarlett, directing her, quite frankly, loaded question at Norma.

Norma thought about this for a moment, then her face cleared. “Oh, I think I see what you’re implying. You think that Kimmy killed Kirk, is that it?”

“Yah, that’s exactly what she’s implying,” said Kimmy, “and I gotta say it’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, it is a little ridiculous,” said Norma with a laugh. “Kimmy a killer. No way.”

“I couldn’t kill a fly,” said Kimmy, giving Scarlett a look that could kill.

“I think we’ve just found our killer,” Dooley whispered to me.

“I think so, too,” I whispered back.

“It’s getting hot in here,” said Gran, as she gave Kimmy a hard stare. “Why don’t I open a window?”

“Be my guest,” riposted Kimmy, returning Gran’s stare and adding some fire of her own.

The suspect and the detectives were squaring off, and soon the scene would turn ugly. So I decided to take a breath of fresh air, before the mood turned acrimonious.

I walked out onto the balcony, which offered a nice view of the backside of some of the buildings behind the Star. Inside the room, I could hear the accusations flying, while Chase took on the role of referee, with Norma and Kimmy playing defense, and Scarlett and Gran offense. Odelia, meanwhile, seemed to have taken on the role of Switzerland, indicating she hadn’t made up her mind yet whether Kimmy was guilty or not.

And as I stretched myself out for a moment, enjoying a few rays of sun tickling my blorange fur, on the balcony one room over a man appeared. He was talking furiously to a second man, and it was with a mild curiosity that I listened to their conversation.

One of the men was thickset, and possessed no neck to speak of, while the other was thin and wiry, with veins pulsating in his neck. Neither of them looked very nice to me.

“How was I supposed to know?! You never told me!”

“I told you loud and clear when you took over the contract!”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did! I told you to make it look like murder.”

“Well, it looked like murder to me.”

“It looked like murder because it was murder, you moron!”

At this point, I pricked up my ears, my attention no longer on the adventures of Kimmy and Norma, but on these two peculiar characters.

Could it be…

“Look, I made a mistake, all right?”

“No shit. Now who’s going to pay me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You killed the client!”

“But…”

“You killed the client, so he can’t pay. And if I’m not being paid, neither are you.”

“Hey, you can’t do this to me. I did the work, I deserve to get paid.”

The thin guy raised his arms and looked as if he was about to pounce on the big guy. The veins in his neck were now as thick as cords. “Then you shouldn’t have killed him!”

Suddenly, someone inside the room threw something and it broke. It could have been Kimmy, or it could have been Gran, but at any rate it made the two men on the balcony look in my direction.

“Jack, that cat is staring at us,” said the big guy.

“Who cares? Cats are dumb creatures,” said the man Jack.

Still, he seemed to think that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to discuss murder on his balcony, so they both returned indoors and closed the window.

And as I sat there digesting what I’d just heard, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I’d just solved Kirk’s murder.

Chapter 35

Odelia was starting to appreciate the kind of ordeal referees go through, as she tried to prevent the scene in the room from turning into the sort of ribald riot that slays six.

“Maybe we should take this to the police station,” she now suggested as Gran and Kimmy were face to face and both screaming at the tops of their lungs.

Scarlett, meanwhile, sat with Norma and held her hand as they stared at the match, wondering who’d come out on top.

“Maybe you’re right,” said Chase, standing next to her.

Dooley, Harriet and Brutus had disappeared under the bed. The coffee cup being hurled across the room by Kimmy and shattering into a thousand pieces against the wall clearly had signaled to them it was time to conduct a strategic and orderly retreat.

“You killed him—just admit it already!” Gran yelled. “You were jealous and so you snuck into Allison’s house and stabbed the guy until death did you part!”

“You’re a crazy old bat and you shouldn’t even be allowed out of the bat house where they usually keep you!” Kimmy fired back.

“Confess!”

“Never!”

Just then, Max came padding into the room from the balcony and sidled up to Odelia.

“Odelia?” he said quietly. “I think I may have solved the murder.” She didn’t grasp his meaning at first, what with Gran and Kimmy duking it out at full volume, but when he cleared his throat and repeated, a little louder this time, “I think I’ve just found out who killed Kirk,” she finally paid attention.

And when he regaled her with the amazing conversation he’d just overheard on the balcony, her eyes went a little wider, and her heart rate shot up a few ticks.

“Chase,” she said, in as calm a voice as she could muster. “I think we got the wrong room.”

“What?” he asked over the din.

“We’re in the wrong room!” she cried. “The real killers are one room over!”

This time he paid attention, and as she repeated Max’s words to the cop, he, too, was greatly impressed.

“I better call for backup,” he said. “This sounds like the real deal.” And instantly, he removed himself from present company, taking out his phone.

“What’s happening?” asked Scarlett from the bed.

“I think Max just cracked the case,” said Odelia. “Chase is calling for backup.”

“About time!” Gran cried, who’d heard the word ‘backup.’ “Your time is up, missy. Backup is arriving and they’ll haul your bony ass to prison.”

“My name isn’t Missy, it’s Kimmy, and talking about bony asses, have you looked at yours lately? It’s flat as a pancake and bonier than a skeleton’s.”

“You take that back!” Gran cried, pointing a bony finger in the woman’s face, even as Scarlett laughed loudly. “And you,” said Gran, abruptly turning on Scarlett. “You’re no friend of mine!”

“Oh, here we go again,” said Scarlett with an eyeroll.

“Are you two married by any chance?” asked Norma.

“Married!” Scarlett cried. “No way!”

“Just that you look like an old married couple to me,” said Norma with a shrug.

“We’re not even friends!” said Gran.

Suddenly, from outside, the sound of police sirens could be heard, and they were drawing closer very quickly.

“They shouldn’t have done that,” said Odelia, shaking her head.

“What’s going on?” asked Kimmy.

“The killers are next door,” Odelia explained. “But once they hear the police sirens they’ll probably try to escape.”

“Leave it to me,” said the dark-haired amazon, and disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later she returned with an aluminum baseball bat. “Let’s go, Norma,” she said. “We’ve got ourselves a couple of killers to catch.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Kimmy?” asked Norma, looking a little startled at this sudden turn of events.

“As long as they don’t catch these guys I’m on the line for murder, sweetheart. So let’s do this!”

“All right, pinky face,” said Norma, and reached underneath her pillow and came out with what looked like a pair of nunchucks. And as she swung them, Odelia could tell that she’d practiced. When she caught Odelia’s gaze, she said, apologetically, “A girl has to be able to defend herself.”

“I’m also going,” said Scarlett.

“But you don’t have a weapon,” said Norma.

Scarlett shook her décolletage. “My girls are all the weapons I need.”

“Oh, count me in, too,” said Gran, and removed a hairpin from her hair and held it like a dagger. “I can do some real damage with this thing, let me tell you,” she announced.

Odelia looked around, but unfortunately she didn’t see anything that could be used as a weapon. But then she remembered she always carried a can of mace in her purse, so she took that out.

And so, armed to the teeth, five ladies exited the room and took up position in front of the door of the room next door. Four cats followed them out. They had their own weapons built in, in the shape of teeth and claws. It was a formidable miniature army, ready for action.

And it was as Odelia had surmised: the moment the sirens stopped in front of the hotel, the door of the room swung open and two men appeared, looking harried. One was thickset, the other scrawny, but both looked a little sinister. The first thing they saw was Scarlett, wiggling her cleavage. They were distracted long enough for Kimmy to lift her baseball bat and lightly tap the biggest one on the head with it. Stars appeared in the man’s eyes, and he promptly dropped to the floor.

Next up was Norma, who used her nunchucks to give the thin guy a clunking across the noggin. It did little to slow him down, though, for he brusquely swept Norma out of the way and made for the corridor. Odelia was waiting for him, though, and unleashed the power of her mace spray into the man’s face. He screamed up a storm, and even more so when Gran applied her hairpin to the man’s buttocks and made him jump. Another delicate caress of Kimmy’s bat did the rest, and soon he was earthbound and lying motionless next to his partner in crime.

And by the time the police arrived, Chase leading the way up from the lobby, all they had to do was handcuff the two villains, who were coming to, and lead them away to the waiting paddy wagon.

“Are you sure these are our guys?” asked Uncle Alec, who’d also joined the circus. “Cause if not, they might sue for assault and battery.”

“They are our guys,” said Odelia, “and they were getting away, so we did you a favor.”

He smiled, and patted her hand. “I knew you’d catch Kirk’s killers sooner or later, honey. I didn’t doubt it for a minute.”

“Actually it’s Max who caught them,” said Odelia.

“Of course he did,” said Uncle Alec, darting an affectionate glance down at the large blorange cat, who looked appropriately proud.

“So are you going to apologize, old lady?” asked Kimmy, taking a firmer grip on her bat.

“Yeah, I guess apologies are in order,” said Chase.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” said Gran. “I just figured that you did it, and you were trying to wiggle your way out of it.”

“I’m sorry, too,” said Scarlett. “I really thought you were guilty, Kimmy.”

“I’m not sorry,” said Kimmy, a sudden grin spreading across the face. “I was getting a little bored on this trip, and this was just what I needed to liven things up.”

“Nothing happened!” suddenly Norma blurted out.

“What?” said Kimmy, staring at her wife.

“I know I said something happened between Kirk and me but I lied. Nothing happened. He came up, and it was pretty obvious what he wanted, but I just couldn’t go through with it. So I told him and he walked out just when you walked in.”

“But why did you lie?”

“Because I wanted to make you jealous, all right? I don’t like this arrangement, Kimmy. I know we said we’d keep our marriage open, and that we could still see other people, but I don’t want to see other people, and I don’t want you to see other people either.” She was looking at her wife piteously, with tears in her eyes now.

“Oh, honey,” said Kimmy, her voice soft now, and her expression tender. “I don’t want to see other people either. I just thought you wanted that.”

“No, I don’t!”

“I’m glad,” said Kimmy, and then they hugged.

“So sweet,” said Odelia as she watched the women return to their room and close the door.

“Yeah, very sweet,” Chase agreed. “Almost as sweet as locking up Kirk’s killers. Though I still don’t understand why they killed the guy.”

“Well, that’s for you to find out,” said Odelia.

Chapter 36

It was the craziest story Chase had heard in a while. As he sat in the interview room, along with Chief Alec, and listened to the man’s confession, he thought it sounded more like something fit for 60 Minutes or Cops.

“Kirk contacted me last month,” said Jack, who seemed to be the brains of the operation. He was a contract killer and this was clearly not his first rodeo. “He told me he was in big trouble and was about to go belly-up. He was up to his eyeballs in debt, and his wife was divorcing him and soon the whole house of cards would come crashing down. So he’d gotten this great idea that he wanted to disappear. Fake his own death and pocket the insurance money. So he hired me and told me to fake-kill him and help him set up the scene.”

“He was going to fake his own death?” asked the Chief.

“Yeah, he’d seen some Lifetime movie and thought it sounded like a great idea. A way for him to leave all his troubles behind. He’d pocket the insurance money through a middle man and escape to Mexico to start a new life. Maybe a little plastic surgery, since he was a TV personality and people might recognize him, buy himself a nice big villa in Tulum or wherever, and maybe even start a new career as a cat whisperer in Mexico.”

“So what went wrong?” asked Chase. “Cause as far as I know, Kirk is really dead.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t supposed to happen,” said Jack, looking a little embarrassed. “Problem was that Kirk had decided that Tuesday was the day. Only I had a last-minute job in Reno that I couldn’t get out of, so I contacted Harlan, one of my associates, and told him to take my place. Only Harlan must have misunderstood, cause instead of fake-killing the client, he killed him for real.”

“Oops,” said the Chief, sharing a look of consternation with his deputy.

“Yeah, oops—you got that right. When I heard I went ballistic. Cause no client, no payment, and probably a lot of tough questions.”

“There would have been tough questions regardless,” said Chase. “At least if the intention was to fake the man’s death.”

“How did Kirk think he’d get away with it?” asked Alec.

“First off, there was going to be a lot of blood. He’d been saving it for a couple of weeks, planning the whole thing. And then there would be the murder weapon, of course. The knife, which would be at the scene. And also, he’d planned for a witness—Mia Gray. He wanted her to see the body, and pass out. I was supposed to help her with the passing-out part by hitting her over the head the moment she came across the body.”

“But don’t you think people would have wondered what happened to the body?” asked Chase.

Jack shrugged. “There would be blood, a murder weapon, and a witness. Who cares what the killer did with the body, or why? The insurance would have plenty to go on and decide the dude was dead and pay out. As far as the cops were concerned, I just had to make sure I didn’t leave any evidence. And I wouldn’t have, if that moron Harlan hadn’t screwed everything up by killing the client for real.”

It was an amazing story, and Chase couldn’t help but wonder why the men had decided to stay in town. If they hadn’t, and if Max hadn’t happened to overhear them, they’d have gotten away with murder.

“We figured we better lay low for a while, and Harlan wanted to visit the Hamptons.” He sighed. “Last time I listen to that idiot.” He looked up. “Now can I ask you a question? How the hell did you find us?”

“My niece was visiting a friend in the room next to yours,” Alec explained. “And she happened to overhear you talking to your associate on the balcony, discussing the murder. So she immediately called me.”

Jack hung his head. “What a disaster. What an absolute mess.”

“You can say that again,” said Alec with a smile.

“So how about Burt?” asked Chase.

“Who?”

“Burt Scofield. Kirk’s business associate. Was he involved in the scheme?”

Jack didn’t speak for a moment, then finally said, “If I tell you, what’s in it for me?”

“Nothing is in it for you, sonny boy,” said Alec sternly. “Now answer the question.”

Jack looked from Chase to Alec for a moment, then sighed. “Okay, fine. Yeah, he was in on it. He was the one who needed to make sure the insurance money would end up in Kirk’s bank account. He was also helping him set up a new identity, and was gonna drive him to Mexico. They were going to split the money and start a new business over there.”

Chase whistled through his teeth. Now that he hadn’t expected.

“Better arrest the guy before he skips town,” said Alec, and Chase nodded and walked out of the interview room to give the order.

Kirk Weaver had had it all worked out. And if not for his designated hitman to outsource the job to a subpar subcontractor, he’d have gotten away with it, too. And before Chase closed the door of the interview room, he could hear Jack lament sadly, “Take it from me, Chief. If you want things done properly, you gotta do ‘em yourself.”

Chapter 37

Over the course of the next day or so, a series of surprising new replies appeared on the Gazette website, all of them written by Gabi, and all of them answering questions that had already been answered before, but, as Gabi went to great pains to explain in a side note, were the result of the site being hacked, and as a consequence should simply be disregarded. The new replies spread a lot of joy through the small community, and especially in the hearts of the different members of the Poole family.

Tex Poole was in his office when Mrs. Baumgartner, one of his regulars, drew his attention to a new reply to a question he’d posted a couple of days before.

‘Dear Fretful Heart, while it is undoubtedly true that your marriage is a happy one, sometimes you need to spice things up a little, and treat your spouse to that extra-loving care that used to come naturally during your honeymoon. Why not a second honeymoon? Or even a third? Why not take that trip she’s been asking for? Neither of you are getting any younger, so now is the time to treat your lady love to that vacation.’

It was so specific and so clear that Tex couldn’t help but wonder if Gabi was actually a mind reader. Nevertheless, he was smiling as he called up the website of his travel agent, and soon was checking prices of packages for a European vacation for two.

Odelia was in her office, writing an article on Jack and Harlan, when she happened to see that new material had been posted to Gabi’s advice column.

‘Dear Anxious Heart, I’m sure your man loves you and wants to make you happy, but unfortunately sometimes men need a little nudge in the right direction. Also, why don’t you simply talk to him about it? He’s your soulmate, your friend, your partner for life, and if you’re going to be together until death do you part, why don’t you start acting like it and share with him your thoughts, your fears and all of your hopes and dreams? I’m sure he’ll appreciate it and love you even more.’

She sat back, a little stunned. Then she decided that Gabi was right on the money, and picked up her phone to call Chase.

Chase, who’d been typing out his report on the Kirk Weaver murder, to be put on his superior officer’s desk first thing in the morning, looked up when that superior officer stuck his head in and said, with a twinkle in his eye, “Have you checked Gabi’s column lately? I think you’ll find something there that you’ll like.”

And with these mysterious words, the Chief withdrew. So Chase took his phone and called up the Gazette website, and soon his eye fell on a particular posting.

‘Dear Burning Heart, I think you know perfectly well what you have to do, and you don’t even have to wait for the right moment to do it. You popped the question once, and she accepted, which was the luckiest day of your life. Now follow through and set a date for an even luckier day: your wedding. You know she’s waiting for you to take the first step, so why don’t you, stud?’

He let out a bark of surprised laughter. Who was this Gabi, and how did she know so much about him? But just then, his phone chimed, and when he saw it was Odelia, he picked up and immediately, before she had a chance to say something, said, “When are we getting married, babe? I can’t wait to make what we share official, and tell the world.”

“Oh, Chase,” she said after a momentary stunned silence, in which he thought his heart would pounce through his chest. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Marge was idly leafing through a Debbie Macomber book, checking it for marks and creases before putting it back on the shelf, when she suddenly remembered she still had to call Odelia and ask her to drop by that evening and pick up that tub of spaghetti sauce.

Walking back to her desk, she picked up her phone, and saw that her daughter had left a message. ‘Mom, check Gabi. Do it NOW!’

Frowning, she did as Odelia suggested, and saw that Gabi had posted a new answer to a question she’d asked last week. Huh. How weird was that?

‘Dear Bookish Heart, sometimes you don’t have to wait for your significant other to take the initiative but take matters into your own hands instead. You know he wants to go on that trip just as much as you do, but has been putting it off. So simply tell him that if he doesn’t want to go with you, you’ll ask a friend to accompany you on this trip. And by sheer magic you’ll find that all of his commitments will suddenly melt away, and that he’ll be more than happy to follow you to the ends of the world and beyond.’

Smiling, Marge then typed a message to her husband. ‘Just booked a ten-day vacation in Europe for me and Odelia. Hope you don’t mind.’

It didn’t even take five seconds for her phone to start ringing. It was Tex.

Mayor Butterwick wasn’t the kind of person who sat perusing the internet on a constant basis. She had too much work on her plate for that. So it was one of her secretaries who actually alerted her of the fact that there was something on the Gazette website that might be of interest to her.

Expecting it to be news of a more political nature, her eye was soon drawn to a particular piece of writing that was addressed to ‘Timid Heart.’ Stunned, she read on, and half expected it to be another harangue about her preventing Alec from rising to his rightful position as Hampton Cove’s next mayor. Instead, it was something completely different.

‘Dear Timid Heart, if in love you took initiative as easily and decisively as in life or your political career, you would have acted on those instincts about your colleague a long time ago. Yes, he likes you back. How could he not? You’re beautiful, smart, successful, and kind. So take the plunge and ask him out on a date already, will you? This is the twenty-first century, for crying out loud. Women can make the first move.’

She sat back, stunned, then a slow smile spread across her features, and she got up to look out the window. Out of habit, her eyes were immediately drawn to a certain window where a certain man spent his days doing his job.

Should she? Or shouldn’t she? Mh…

And as she narrowed her eyes, she noticed that the man’s office was empty, and so was his chair. Probably out fighting crime, and a warm feeling spread through her chest at the thought of Alec walking the streets, keeping people safe and making sure Hampton Cove was the safest community for miles around. How she admired him for it.

A knock at the door took her out of her daydream, and she immediately rearranged her features into her professional ‘Madam Mayor’ face.

“Yes!” she called out.

The door swung open, and a large bouquet of flowers appeared. Then, as the bouquet lowered, a face became visible: it was none other than Alec Lip himself, not fighting crime, but delivering flowers to his boss.

“Chief!” she said, her heart skipping a beat. “What’s going on?”

“These are for you, Madam Mayor,” the Chief said as he hesitatingly stepped into the room and haltingly launched into his speech. “I just figured… I just thought… Well, you do such a great job, day in and day out, to keep this town running… that I figured…”

“Well,” she said, admiring the gorgeous selection. “Just, um, put them on that table over there, will you?” She took a whiff and smiled. They smelled delicious.

The bouquet placed down, they both stood staring at it for a moment, lost for words. Then finally the Chief said, “Actually there’s something…”

“… something I wanted to say…” she said simultaneously, then smiled, and added, “You go first.”

“No, please, by all means…”

“I just wanted to know if, um…”

“The thing is,” said the Chief, clearing his throat and inserting a finger between his collar and his reddening neck, “… that, um…”

“I’ve been thinking that, um…”

“You were thinking…” he said, a hopeful look in his eyes.

She swallowed, and felt heat rising to her cheeks. Oh, for God’s sake, she thought. She was a grown-ass woman. Why couldn’t she simply… “I was thinking that maybe…”

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” suddenly the Chief blurted out. “I mean, if it’s convenient and appropriate and… if you have the time… we could discuss… stuff.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, blinking. “Hampton Cove stuff, and…”

“… other… stuff…”

They stared at each other for a beat, then suddenly the Chief closed the distance between them with a single step, and then they were kissing, and she was melting into his arms, and a sigh escaped her throat, and it was… oh, so wonderful.

When they finally broke the kiss, Alec was looking a little rumpled, and her glasses were askew, and steamed up, too, and he said, haltingly, “I like you, Charlene. And I thought that maybe… you like me, too, so…”

“I do like you, Alec,” she said with a smile. And when five minutes later Charlene’s secretary walked in on them, they were still kissing.

Crap, she thought. Soon the word would be all over town. Oddly enough, she didn’t mind one bit. And after Alec had left, and as she was reading Gabi’s column again, her eye was drawn to another message the advice columnist had written.

‘Dear Lonely Heart, if you like your boss so much, why don’t you grab the bull by the horns and tell her already? We all know what happens to those who wait: nothing! Just buy her the biggest bouquet of flowers you can find, ask her out for dinner and tell her how you feel. And I can tell you with all my heart you won’t be disappointed. So jump!’

Charlene smiled. Well, they’d jumped. Both of them. And she had a feeling that wherever they landed would be someplace pretty excellent.

Epilogue

“Max, what’s happening!”

“I have no idea, Dooley,” I said.

Though I had the distinct impression it had something to do with Gabi—or the two Gabis. No one in town knew for a fact, but I now had confirmation that Gabi was in fact none other than Grandma Muffin and her newfound friend Scarlett. They’d been dispensing advice left, right and center, and some pretty good advice, too, which seemed to focus on bringing sundered hearts together—or hearts, period, sundered or not.

I’d walked in on Gran one night a couple of days ago, and she was typing something on her laptop. And when I jumped up on her desk, she quickly closed it, but not before I’d read the opening line of her piece, which read, ‘Dear Nervous Heart…’

She’d told me not to divulge her little secret, and of course I’d told her I wouldn’t.

“I think it’s beautiful,” said Harriet. “I love it when people are in love, don’t you, mi amor?”

“People and cats,” said Brutus as he munched on a piece of sausage. “People and cats.”

“Exactly,” said his mate for life.

We were in Marge and Tex’s backyard, with Tex manning the grill and producing the kind of delicious treats only a grill master of his caliber could provide: scorched sausages, burnt patties and incinerated steaks. Still, if you scraped off the black stuff, it was still pretty decent food.

Marge was there, dishing out her famous potato salad to all who wanted it, which was everyone, and of course Odelia and Chase, but also Gran and Scarlett and Uncle Alec and… Mayor Butterwick for some reason, which had caused Dooley’s outcry.

“The family is expanding, Max,” said Dooley. “Soon this backyard will be too small.”

“I doubt it,” I said. “Plenty of space left.”

“So what’s going to happen to Kirk’s non-existent fortune?” asked Odelia as she took a sniff from her burger and replaced it on her plate.

“Well, the insurance will pay out,” said Chase, “and the money will go to his wife Sandy, which is probably not what Kirk would have wanted, but what is actually the right thing, after all that she suffered at the hands of her husband.”

“I think a toast is in order,” said Mayor Butterwick, who was seated next to Uncle Alec, darting loving glances at the big guy from time to time. “To Odelia and Chase, for solving the unsolvable murder of Kirk Weaver, and ridding our town of his killers.”

“Hear, hear,” said Uncle Alec, taking a swig from his Corona beer.

Odelia, as the Mayor spoke these words, lifted her own glass of lemonade, and held it up in a salute to yours truly, a gesture I appreciated. It had been mostly coincidence that had set me on the trail of Jack and Harlan. Being at the right place at the right time. Still, I enjoyed the praise.

“So when are you leaving, Mom?” asked Odelia now.

“Um, well, the tickets are all booked, and so are the hotels. And three weeks from now we’re taking a flight to London!” said Marge happily.

“About time!” said Chase, as he shared a wink with Tex, who held up his tongs in agreement.

“It’s all because of Gabi, really,” said Marge. “If she hadn’t given us the final push, we probably wouldn’t have jumped, even now.”

“I wonder who she is,” said Uncle Alec.

“Dan is refusing to tell me,” said Odelia, when all eyes turned to her. “I’ve asked him and he says he needs to respect Gabi’s desire for privacy, and so I’m not going to snoop.”

“I think she’s one smart lady,” said Mayor Butterwick, or Charlene as everyone was now calling her, even Uncle Alec. “And I’m sure I’m more than grateful for her meddling ways.”

“Those meddling ways led to our first dinner,” said Uncle Alec.

“And I hope to many more,” said Charlene, and shared a sweet kiss with Odelia’s uncle, causing all those around the table to grow a little misty-eyed, and us cats, too.

“I think you couldn’t have chosen a better guy, Charlene,” said Gran. “My Alec is a salt-of-the-earth kind of guy, and you’re a great gal, and I heartily approve of the match.”

“We’re just dating, Ma,” Alec grumbled good-naturedly. “It’s not as if we’re getting married or anything.” Though judging by the looks they gave each other the wedding wasn’t far off.

“Speaking of marriage,” said Scarlett. “Have you two lovebirds finally set a date?”

“Yes, we have,” said Odelia. “It’s going to be a September wedding, and it’s going to be small but beautiful. Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Absolutely, babe,” Chase confirmed. “September fifth, and I hope you’ll all join us as we exchange vows.”

“Oh, dear,” said Marge in a choked voice, and tears trickled from her eyes as she took a seat. “My baby is getting married.”

Odelia was quick to place an arm around her mother’s shoulder, and as Marge dried her eyes, Scarlett announced, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say, and now seems like a good time to say it. Vesta and I have been best enemies for years, but before that we were best friends. I made a terrible mistake many, many years ago, and I’ve apologized to her, but now I’d like to apologize to you, especially Marge and Alec.”

“There’s no need, Scarlett,” said Vesta.

“Really, Scarlett, it’s fine,” said Marge.

“No, I want to apologize for my terrible judgment and I wanted to add that I’m grateful—extremely grateful—that the rift it caused between our families has finally been healed, because of Vesta’s big heart and…” She was sniffling, and soon needed a tissue, which Marge gladly handed her. “As I was saying, Vesta and I were frenemies for many, many years, and…”

Vesta smiled. “You said frenemies.”

“I did, didn’t?” said Scarlett, smiling through her tears. “Well, I’m just glad we’re friends again. I missed you, buddy.”

“And I missed you,” said Vesta, and both women hugged, and Marge started crying again, and even Chase had tears in his eyes. In fact when I looked around the table, everyone was wiping away tears.

“Why is everybody crying, Max?” asked Dooley, concerned. “Is something wrong?”

“Tears of happiness, Dooley,” I said. “It’s a different kind of tears. The good kind.”

“So there’s a bad kind and a good kind?”

“Exactly, and this is all good. Everybody’s happy. In fact they’re so happy they’re crying.”

“So weird,” said Dooley, shaking his head.

“That’s humans for you,” said Brutus. “They cry when they’re happy, and they laugh when they’re sad. It’s all very confusing.”

He was right, of course, though I could still read my human perfectly, and even though she was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, I could tell she was happy. Very happy indeed. And when my human is happy, I’m happy, too.

You can call me a pussy, and you’d be right, but I’m the kind of cat who basks in my human’s happiness, and feels for her when she’s sad. And as I watched on, my own eyes a little moist, suddenly I became aware of little steps sounding behind me. And when I turned, I saw that three white mice were crossing the deck, carrying assorted foodstuffs in their tiny but still very muscular little paws. And when they noticed me noticing them, the first one said, in a kind of hushed voice, “Don’t tell our pa, will you, Max!”

“Yeah, it’s just this once,” said the second one.

“It’s the smell,” explained the third. “So hard to resist the smell of grilled meat!”

You’ll agree they made a valid point. And since I was feeling so happy, I decided there was plenty of food to share. So I whispered, “Enjoy!” and they grinned happily.

Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know a cat is supposed to catch mice, not encourage them to steal food from their humans, but I think we’ve already established that I’m a pussy. And proud to be one.

Though when five minutes later another two dozen mice came tripping past me, all hoisting the remnants of Tex’s grilling experiments on their tiny shoulders, I was starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, I’d made a big mistake.

Well, I guess I could always ask Dear Chloe.

Purrfect Passion

The Mysteries of Max - Book 23

Chapter 1

“Max, can I ask you a question?”

Lazily, I opened my eyes. “Mh?”

“How come we have mice in our basement and next door they don’t?”

I shrugged. It was one of those questions no one has an answer to, and certainly not me. “I don’t know, Dooley,” I said therefore. “Maybe they like our basement better?”

This gave my friend some food for thought, and for a moment I returned to my peaceful slumber. Not for long, though, for Dooley’s train of thought was determined to make sure I got no repose whatsoever. His trains of thought are often that way, completely oblivious to my creature comforts.

“So… what is it about Odelia’s basement that makes it so appealing to mice?” he asked, launching a follow-up question that compelled me to open my eyes once more and think up a response. I have to tell you, though, it’s hard to think when all you want to do is sleep. It had been a particularly eventful night, what with cat choir running overtime, due to the fact that Shanille, cat choir’s conductor, had gotten it into her tiny nut that we should take our show on the road, and extend the kind of creative succor we’ve been providing Hampton Covians to other audiences in other towns, spreading sweetness and light and the caterwauling of a group of tone-deaf cats to all and sundry.

“I have no idea, Dooley,” I said. “Maybe we should ask them?”

This idea clearly hadn’t yet occurred to my friend, as his face lit up with delight.

“Of course!” he said. “I’ll simply go down there and ask them!”

And much to my surprise, he actually up and went!

I frowned as I watched him go. “Um, Dooley?” I said.

He turned, a smile spread across his furry features. “Yes, Max?”

“When I said we should ask them, I didn’t mean…”

He gave me that wide-look of his. “Yes, Max?”

“Are you sure this is such a good idea?”

He frowned and a look of confusion wrapped his funny face in frowns. “Of course, Max. It’s your idea. And your ideas are always good ideas.”

In spite of the fact that his confidence in my cerebral processes warmed the cockles of my heart, I still felt it incumbent upon me to point out a fatal flaw in this, my own, plan. “We’ve talked about this, remember? When we made our peace with Hector and Helga we agreed that the basement was theirs, and the rest of the house ours.”

He gave me a look of bewilderment. “I don’t understand.”

“The basement has officially been turned into a no-go zone for cats,” I explained. “It’s their territory now, and we’re not supposed to tread there if we can help it.”

“But… this is our house, Max. We have a right to go where we want, don’t we?”

“Well, not anymore. Under the terms of the peace treaty we arranged with the mice, this house has now been divided into two separate zones. There is a cat zone…” With an all-encompassing sweep of my paw I motioned to the living room, the kitchen and the upstairs. “And there’s the mice zone—in other words, the basement.”

His bewilderment was absolute. “But… are you sure this is legal?”

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. “If you mean was there a notary present when we came to this agreement, then no, there wasn’t. But it was either that or have them traipse all over the house, raid our fridge, steal the kibble from our bowls whenever they felt like it, and turn our lives into a living hell. It’s an arrangement for our mutual benefit. The mice can live their lives unencumbered, raising a family of healthy, happy little pinkies and pups, and we can relax and save face in front of Odelia and Chase.”

It had taken a lot of persuading on my part to get my human on board. Odelia shares most humans’ visceral aversion to all things rodent, and the mere suggestion that we’d give these critters and their offspring a permanent home in her home (and our home) seemed repugnant to her. But I simply appealed to her softer side and even she had to admit it was an arrangement that offered a lot of benefits. As long as these mice occupied the basement, no other mice would move in. Better the mice you know than the mice you don’t, if you see what I mean. And when I personally introduced her to Hector, and translated the little fella’s words for her, and told her they had come in peace and had promised us to keep the basement absolutely free of droppings, she relented, and so did her boyfriend Chase.

Though the latter contrived a look of bewilderment very similar to Dooley’s. He probably hadn’t expected when he started dating Odelia that at some point in the near future he’d find himself negotiating with a colony of mice, a cat officiating the peace treaty.

“I still don’t see why the basement should be off-limits,” said Dooley. “It’s still our house, and they’re just guests.”

“Look at it this way, Dooley,” I said, deciding to try a different tack. “It’s as if you’re a property owner. And the mice are your tenants.”

“Tenants who don’t pay rent.”

“True, true,” I admitted. “The point I’m trying to make, though, is that a landlord can’t simply walk into a tenant’s house or apartment, see?”

“He can’t?” asked Dooley, much surprised by this strange legal quirk.

“No, he cannot. There are laws protecting a tenant’s privacy, and a landlord can’t simply barge in whenever he likes. He has to get the tenant’s permission first.”

“So I have to get Hector’s permission before I can set paw in the basement?”

“Pretty much,” I agreed.

“And what about Odelia? Does she have to get Hector’s permission, too?”

“Um, no, I guess she doesn’t. The arrangement is between cats and mice only.”

His face cleared. “Great! Then I’ll simply ask Odelia to ask Hector why they like it here so much. And I’ll tag along as Odelia’s official translator, just like a delegation of Swaziland would bring along their translator when attending the United Nations General Assembly.” And with these words he trotted off in the direction of the staircase, presumably to rouse Odelia from sleep so she could pose this all-important question.

This time I did roll my eyes, then lay down my head on the sofa cushion I’d singled out for my own, and went back to sleep. The plight of the rodent family that had moved into the basement might fascinate and intrigue my friend, but it certainly did not fascinate me. You may say I’m a lousy cat for allowing mice to move into my domain, and I’d tell you that my peace of mind is worth a lot more to me than any slings and arrows you can aim at me. That and my daily dose of kibble, of course.

And I’d just fallen into a peaceful slumber once more when the sound of a flapping pet flap told me that the prospect of a nice nap was not in my near future just yet. When I opened my eyes I found myself gazing into the familiar face of Brutus, and he wasn’t looking very happy at all. His next words confirmed my assessment of his mental state.

“Max, you have to help me. It’s Harriet. She’s gone completely mad!”

Chapter 2

To be absolutely honest with you, Brutus’s announcement didn’t surprise me. I’d already had the feeling that Harriet was brooding on something. Even her customary solo performance during cat choir had had a different quality last night, as she’d seemed distracted and a little surly, and had dropped even more notes than usual. Even Shanille had felt compelled to ask the prissy Persian if everything was all right, receiving a typical snappish response for her trouble.

“What is it this time?” I asked therefore, starting to feel as if this nap I’d been anticipating with such eagerness was starting to look like a lost cause.

“She wants to put our relationship to the test by joining a reality show,” said Brutus.

I frowned. “I’m sorry, Brutus, but you’re going to have to run that by me again. I didn’t quite catch your drift.”

He was too wired to take a seat, and had resorted to pacing the rug, going so far as to extend his nails and plucking little tufts of fiber from Odelia’s nice carpet. It just goes to show the extent of his exasperation. It’s one of the reasons why I’ve remained a bachelor until now: my closest friends are frankly the best advertisement for bachelorhood.

“She’s been watching this reality show with Gran lately. Passion Island? Gran is hooked on the thing, and so is Harriet. It’s all they talk about. And now Harriet has decided she wants in. She figures it’s the best way to see if we’re really meant to be together.”

“But… I didn’t even know she had doubts about that.”

“Me neither! But watching Passion Island has made her think.”

“Uh-oh,” I muttered.

“And she’s been pushing Gran to get her on the show, and it looks like Gran thinks this might not be such a bad idea, only cats aren’t allowed anywhere near the island.”

“For a good reason,” I said, nodding. No reality show fans want to be distracted by the sight of a couple of cats slinking into the frame and obscuring their view.

“Yeah, but Gran says she can probably make the producers change their minds. Or maybe even get them to create a spin-off. Cat Passion Island. She figures it would give people the best of both worlds: adorable cats doing what cats do best, and a healthy dose of drama.”

“But… no viewer would understand what the cats are saying,” I pointed out. “And where would be the fun in that?”

“Exactly what I said!” said Brutus, becoming more and more agitated. “But do you think they’ll listen to the voice of reason? Oh, no.”

“I’m sure nothing will come of it,” I tried to reassure the butch black cat. “You know what Gran is like. She always has some bee buzzing in her bonnet, but rarely has the wherewithal to see her wild ideas through to fruition.”

He gave me a look of hope. “You think so? You’ve known Gran longer than I have.”

“Trust me,” I said. “This idea will simply fizzle out and die before you can say kibble.”

“Kibble,” said Brutus earnestly, and plunked himself down, slightly mollified. And I could see his point. Gran may have the attention span of a goldfish, but Harriet is one of those cats that don’t stop until they get what they want. If she had her mind set on being in some goofy reality show, she’d keep harping on the theme until she got her wish.

I decided not to share this little insight into Harriet’s psyche with the latter’s mate, though, as I was still holding out a tiny hope I’d get the chance to have that sweet nap.

And as Brutus mulled over my words, I shifted in my seat and accidentally hit a button on the remote control, inadvertently turning on the TV. And while I was wondering why the TV had suddenly started pouring out its usual dose of frenetic programming on an unsuspecting world, Brutus sprang to his paws again, vibrating with excitement, his nose pointing in the direction of the darned thing like a pointing dog.

“That’s it!” he cried. “That’s the show that’s ruining my life!”

I directed a curious eye at the goggle box and saw that a small group of young women was seated around a fire, all staring intently at a tablet computer, held up by a platinum-haired and sophisticated-looking woman. On the tablet’s screen, grainy footage of a man and a woman lying in bed together appeared, and suddenly one of the women brought her hands to her face and started sobbing uncontrollably.

“Prepare yourself for a shock, Sookie,” said the sophisticated woman, who appeared to be the show’s host. “The next images will be tough for you to watch.”

We were regaled with images of the same couple in bed, only this time all that was visible was a shapeless form underneath the sheets, and those very same sheets were moving in a very suspicious way indeed. It was obvious the couple were in the throes of a passionate spate of lovemaking, bumping and grinding with careless abandon.

The woman named Sookie, the one who’d been sobbing, now wailed like a banshee. “Not my Bennie-ie-ie-ie!” she cried.

“Yes, I’m afraid your Bennie has succumbed to the wily ways of seductress Mia,” said the show host, barely suppressing a hint of satisfaction.

“Oh, my God,” said Brutus, looking on with fascination. “I never thought Bennie would cheat on Sookie. They were the perfect couple! Everybody said so!”

It was obvious to me that Brutus was as big a fan of this Passion Island bonanza as Harriet and Gran.

Just then, Dooley came trudging down the stairs again, a very sleepy-looking Odelia in tow. “So what’s all this about the United Nations General Assembly?” she asked.

But Dooley had become distracted by the footage on TV. He stared at the wild sheet tussle for a moment, then asked, “What are those people doing, Max?”

Brutus and I immediately scrambled to grab the remote and change the channel. Unfortunately in our efforts to do so, the thing dropped to the floor and skipped underneath the couch. And as I aimlessly reached for the gizmo, I saw how Dooley approached the screen and stared at the footage of Sookie’s Bennie-ie-ie-ie and wily seductress Mia, whoever she was, performing feats of acrobatics, their modesty only covered by a thin sheet.

“Are they playing a game?” asked Dooley, wide-eyed now as he took in the scene.

“Um, yeah,” I said, still fruitlessly reaching underneath the couch. “Yeah, they’re playing a game of hide and seek.”

“Looks like they found each other,” said Dooley, quite astutely I might add.

“Oh, is that Passion Island?” asked Odelia, stifling a yawn. “I love that show.”

Brutus emitted a low groan. “Everybody loves that show,” he said.

“Yeah, even Mom and Dad watch every episode.” She frowned at the screen. “This is a rerun though, right?” Like a true addict, she sounded worried she’d missed something.

“Yeah, they’re gearing up for a new season, and started airing last season’s episodes to whet people’s appetites,” said Brutus, as the expert he clearly was.

Dooley had turned his head sideways and was still watching the couple intently. “It looks like they’re rubbing against each other,” he said finally, still that puzzled look on his face. “Why are they rubbing against each other, Max?”

“Um, I guess one of them has an itch,” I said, eliciting a smile from Odelia. Then, finally getting hip to my predicament, she fished the remote from underneath the couch, and quickly changed channels. A weatherman started waxing poetic about a low-pressure system moving in from the East, or it could have been the West, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The danger had been averted, and Dooley’s innocence was safe once more.

“Harriet wants to be on that show,” said Brutus. “And Gran told her she’s going to help her.”

Odelia laughed. “Of course she did.” She patted Brutus on the head. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Brutus. The day Harriet is selected for Passion Island is the day hell freezes over.” And with these sage words, she entered the kitchen to start fixing herself and Chase some breakfast.

Chapter 3

Suddenly the sliding glass door that looks out onto the backyard opened and Gran walked in, followed by none other than Harriet herself. They both had those looks of determination in their eyes that spelled trouble.

“Odelia, there’s something I need to talk to you about,” said Gran in a tone of voice that brooked no contest.

“Oh, hey, Gran,” said Odelia. “Are you joining us for breakfast?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Gran. “Look, I’m going crazy next door, with your mom and dad in Europe, and I was thinking—“

“Coffee?”

“Yeah. So I’ve been thinking—“

“Milk and sugar?”

“You know I take my coffee black, honey,” said Gran, taking a seat on one of the high stools at the kitchen counter.

Odelia smiled, and I could tell she wasn’t fully awake yet. It takes a heavy dose of caffeine to accomplish that minor feat, and she hadn’t had hers yet.

Chase came stomping down the stairs, yawning cavernously and stretching. “I had the weirdest dream,” he announced to no one in particular. “I dreamt that I was on an island and there were only women. Can you imagine? I was the only male on an island filled with the most gorgeous wo—“ He suddenly became aware he was being intently watched by his future grandmother-in-law, and quickly shut up. Waking up on an island filled with gorgeous women may be every man’s fantasy, it clearly wasn’t Gran’s.

Odelia took it in stride, though. “Well, isn’t that a coincidence? I dreamt I was on a desert island filled with gorgeous men, all catering to my every need. Crazy, huh?”

Immediately, Chase’s expression soured. “I don’t know what’s so wonderful about an island full of men,” he grumbled as he dug into the fridge and came out with the OJ.

“Well, I enjoyed it,” said Odelia. “You were saying, Gran?”

“Thank you,” said Gran. “Before I was so rudely interrupted…” She raised her voice as she spoke this last word, casting a censorious look at Chase, which the latter ignored as he was clearly still ruminating on Odelia’s island-of-gorgeous-males dream. “… I was going to tell you that I’ve decided to move in with you guys again. Isn’t that great?”

Chase, who’d been glugging down his orange juice straight from the container, choked and spat out a stream of the orange stuff straight into the sink. Some of it came out of his nose.

“You what?” he said, not exactly with the kind of warmth and welcoming attitude a woman expects from the man who’s about to plight his troth to her granddaughter.

“It’s just that I’ve been feeling a little lonely lately, all alone in that big old house.”

“You have your cats,” Chase pointed out as he wiped his face with a paper towel.

“It’s not the same without my daughter and her husband,” said Gran decidedly, “so I’ve decided to move in with you until they’re back from their trip through Europe. Now if you could prepare me a slice of toast, very crisp, lightly buttered, there’s a good boy.”

I saw how Chase exchanged a flabbergasted look with Odelia, the latter merely responding with a sigh and a shrug, and I felt for the big guy. I mean, it’s one thing to fall in love with a chirpy, happy, peppy blonde and move in with her, but quite another to get a slightly irritating older lady as a surprise bonus when you do.

“If gran is moving in with Odelia and Chase,” said Harriet, “Brutus and I are also moving back in.”

“Back?” I asked. “What do you mean, back? You’ve only ever lived next door, Harriet.”

“Yeah, and now I’m moving in with you, Max,” she said tersely. “Got a problem with that?”

Warning bells went off in my head, and a good thing they did, as many a cat has been on the receiving end of Harriet’s sharp tongue, and claws, in the past, and I wasn’t in the mood for either a tongue lashing, or a demonstration of just how sharp those claws were.

“No, no,” I hurried to say. “It’s perfectly fine with me.”

“If you do move in,” said Dooley, “we’ll probably have to negotiate a new peace treaty. Just like we did with Hector and Helga. I suggest Max and I get the downstairs, and you guys can have the upstairs. The basement, of course, belongs to the mice.”

“What are you talking about, Dooley?” asked Harriet, an expression of annoyance having crept up her pretty face.

“Well, when Hector moved in, Max negotiated a peace treaty,” Dooley explained, as I made frantic gestures for him to stop talking. Gestures, unfortunately, he blithely ignored. “So it’s only fair we do the same thing with you. Max, do you want to start?” He gave Harriet a warm smile. “Max is a skilled negotiator. Isn’t that right, Max?”

I cleared my throat as Harriet turned those fiery eyes on me. “Is that a fact?” she said.

“Well, obviously there’s a slight difference between a colony of mice moving in and two dear, dear friends like yourself and Brutus,” I prevaricated.

“Oh, is there now?” said Harriet, having adopted the kind of smooth tone that usually precipitates an outburst of volcanic proportions.

“Yeah, so I don’t think we need to go through all of that nonsense. Instead I’d like to extend the paw of friendship and bid you welcome in our humble home. Mi casa es su casa, and all that.”

Harriet, whose lips had drawn together in a thin line, nodded once. “Sometimes, Max, I wonder if you really are as smart as you think you are. First off, this isn’t your casa at all. This is our casa, and so for you to welcome me into my own home is simply… simply…” She stomped her foot. “Aaargh!” she finished her statement with some eloquence, and made a beeline for the kitchen and her bowl of kibble.

“We probably should tell Odelia to place Harriet and Brutus’s bowls on the landing,” said Dooley with a thoughtful glance at Harriet’s retreating back. “And your litter boxes, of course,” he added for Brutus’s benefit.

I had a feeling that it was going to take me the better part of my designated nap time to try and explain to Dooley that there was going to be no peace treaty and no divvying up the house. But then what else is new?

Chapter 4

Odelia and Chase were enjoying a hearty breakfast with Odelia’s grandmother while the cats made arrangements for Harriet and Brutus to move in—though technically cats never ‘move in’ anywhere. They make their home wherever they like, and their humans simply have to accept it.

“So you miss Tex, huh?” said Chase as he ladled up his power breakfast. It consisted of oats, fruits, a fermented almond paste he made himself, and dates to add sweetness.

Gran’s eyes shot daggers at Odelia’s fiancé. “Of course I don’t miss Tex. It’s just that at my age any change of routine is a lot harder to bear. You’ll see when you’re as old as me.”

“You’re not that old, Gran,” said Odelia, earning herself a smile from her grandmother.

“Thanks, honey,” said Gran, affectionately patting her granddaughter on the cheek. She brought her piece of toast, now liberally smeared with strawberry jam, to her lips and took a big bite. There was nothing wrong with Gran’s appetite.

“I miss Mom and Dad,” said Odelia. “Though I’m happy they finally got the chance to fulfill an old dream.”

Her mother and father had left the week before for a three-week trip around Europe. London, Paris, Rome, Venice, Amsterdam… They were doing it all and doing it in style. Odelia had been getting tons of pictures, and her mother’s Facebook feed was full of snapshots of the two of them in front of Buckingham Palace, the Eiffel Tower, the Colosseum… And in every picture they looked a little tanner and more relaxed.

“I wouldn’t mind going on a trip around Europe myself,” said Gran now. “Though it wouldn’t be much fun on my own. I’d have to find a friend to tag along.”

She darted a meaningful glance at Odelia, but the latter held up her hand. “I can’t get away right now. I have a big story to tackle for Dan, and he’d kill me if I took off.” Not to mention that her piggy bank couldn’t afford the financial onslaught of three weeks in Europe.

“How about Scarlett?” asked Chase. “I thought you and her were BFFs now?”

Gran’s face sagged. “It’s one thing to finally be reconciled again, but another to be joined at the hip for almost a month while you hopscotch around an entire continent.”

“I’m glad you two are getting along so well again,” said Odelia. “And maybe you could start by going on a weekend trip together? See how it goes?”

Gran didn’t look convinced. “Mh,” she responded unenthusiastically. “She friended me on Facebook the other day, and has been sending me a never-ending string of personal messages.”

“That’s very nice of her,” said Odelia encouragingly. “It shows she really wants this friendship to work.”

“All pictures of half-naked men,” Gran clarified. “I’m starting to think the woman is some kind of nymphomaniac. I mean, I like the male form just as much as the next gal, but there are limits to the number of oiled-up pecs and glistening six-packs you can see.”

“She probably thought you’d like it.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t, and when I see her I’ll tell her in no uncertain terms what I think of all of this spam.” And with these words, she got down from her stool, dumped her plate in the sink and stalked off, presumably to start her move into the spare room.

“She’s in a mood,” Chase remarked.

“I think she misses Mom and Dad a lot more than she’s letting on,” said Odelia. “I miss them, and I don’t even live with them.”

“Looks like we’re turning our office-slash-gym into a spare bedroom again, huh?”

“Yeah, looks like it,” said Odelia, and placed a hand on her understanding boyfriend’s arm. “Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Chase. “I like your grandmother. She can be a handful, but she has a good heart, and I’m more than happy to accommodate her for two—“

“Three.”

Chase grimaced. “Three weeks.”

Odelia smiled. The last time Gran had moved in things had gotten a little tense. She hoped that this time the old lady would behave.

Her phone produced its telltale series of beeps, announcing a message from Mom, and she swiped to open the message. She smiled when she found herself glancing at her parents standing in front of what looked like a Roman centurion, goofy smiles on their faces, as Dad pretended to be engaged in a display of sword fight with the Roman.

Chase, glancing over her shoulder, said, “I can understand your gran. I wouldn’t mind taking a little vacation myself. Things have been pretty hectic at the office lately, and I’m due a vacation.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Odelia intimated. “Not Europe, though. We don’t have the time or the budget.”

“How about a weekend trip to the Keys? I think we could afford that, right?”

“Let’s talk about it once Mom and Dad are back,” Odelia suggested. A weekend trip was fine, but what she really longed for, she now realized, was the kind of vacation that involved a lot of lazing around on a tropical beach somewhere, the blue azure water lapping at her feet, waiters at her every beck and call, umbrella drink in hand and a good book. But since that wasn’t in the cards, she simply sighed and put down her phone.

Just then, the doorbell chimed, and she got up, wondering who it could be. She wasn’t expecting any visitors. She opened the door to find her uncle standing on the mat, accompanied by a woman she’d never seen before.

Uncle Alec smiled widely, and said, “Would you like to go to Thailand for three weeks?”

Chapter 5

I pricked up my ears at the mention of the word ‘Thailand’. As everyone knows, cats aren’t frequent travelers, but lately we’d already flown to LA and even the UK, all in the wake of our human, who’s something of an amateur sleuth when the mood strikes.

Dooley and I locked eyes, and I could see that he, too, was impressed by this sudden turn of events.

“Thailand,” said Brutus. “Isn’t that where they eat cats and dogs for dinner?”

“Brutus!” Harriet cried.

“I’m sure they don’t eat cats in Thailand,” I said reassuringly.

“No, they do,” Brutus insisted. “And dogs.”

We all watched Uncle Alec step inside, followed by a young woman of petite dimensions. She had long dark hair and horn-rimmed glasses perched on a cute little nub of a nose. She glanced around nervously, not entirely at ease. I wondered if she was the travel agent Uncle Alec had secured for this unexpected trip he’d just mentioned.

“I don’t want to go to Thailand, Max,” said Dooley, wasting no time getting worked up. “I don’t like to be eaten.”

“Nobody likes to be eaten, Dooley,” I assured him.

“What’s this all about?” asked Chase, throwing down his napkin and joining his commanding officer in the living room.

“First let me introduce this young lady,” said Uncle Alec. “Kimmy Flannery, meet my niece Odelia and her future husband Chase, also known as Detective Kingsley. Kimmy works for a production company in the capacity of assistant producer, isn’t that right, Kimmy?”

Kimmy nodded. “I work for Sunshine Pictures. I don’t know if you’ve heard of them?”

Both Odelia and Chase shook their heads.

“No, I guess the product we make is more famous than the company. Passion Island is our main product right now, and has been a big hit for the past five seasons, now in prep for season six.”

Odelia’s mouth opened, and Chase’s jaw dropped. And when I glanced around, I could see that both Brutus and Harriet were very impressed indeed as well.

“This is serendipity,” Harriet said in a low voice. “I’m a believer, you guys.”

“A believer in what?” asked Dooley.

“Serendipity!” said Harriet.

“I’ve heard about that,” said Dooley. “It’s a national park in Africa.”

“I think that’s the Serengeti,” I said, and brought my paw to my lips in the universal sign of ‘Better shut up now or risk Harriet’s ire.’

“First off, this is not official,” said Kimmy, as everyone distributed themselves amongst the couches, or at least those spots that hadn’t been taken up by yours truly and my three friends. Cats are not easy to dislodge, so we simply stayed put, even if it meant that Uncle Alec had to remain standing, and Chase had to take the arm of the couch.

“I’ve worked for Sunshine Pictures from its inception,” said Kimmy, as she glanced around nervously, as if expecting nefarious elements to spring up from behind the curtains. “And don’t get me wrong: I love my job, and my colleagues. But something very strange has been happening, and I don’t know what to do about it, or how to proceed.”

“Kimmy is Charlene’s niece,” Uncle Alec explained. “And when Charlene heard about what happened, she told her to come and see me.”

“At first I didn’t want to,” said Kimmy, giving Uncle Alec an apologetic look. “In fact going to the police was the last thing I wanted to do.”

“But Charlene told her not to look upon me as a cop,” said Uncle Alec. “I mean, I’m a cop, of course, but I’m also a guy who has a very talented niece—a niece who’s a natural sleuth.” He gave Odelia a wink.

“So what’s the problem?” asked Chase. “What’s going on?”

Kimmy took a deep breath and launched into her story. “I’m not sure, but for the past five years we’ve staged five productions of Passion Island, with increasing success. And in those same five years, five of our participants have gone missing.”

“Probably eaten alive,” Brutus muttered.

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

“I don’t know if you’re familiar with our show?” asked Kimmy.

“I am,” said Odelia.

“Then I don’t have to explain that four men and four women participate each season. It’s my job to make sure they’re taken care of, not only their physical well-being but also psychologically. Which is why we always stay in touch with all participants even after the show has been taped and aired. Well, the strange thing is that I haven’t been able to contact several of the women of the past seasons, five altogether, one from each show.”

“You mean the winners?”

“Not the winners,” said Kimmy. “Contestants, not seductresses.”

“What’s a seductress, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Um…” I said.

“In Passion Island four couples are sent to Thailand,” Harriet explained. “The men are dropped on one island, the women on another. Once there, the men are joined by six seductresses and the women by six seducers, whose sole task it is to, well, seduce them. Make them perform an act of infidelity. If the candidates succumb to the charms, they lose. The couple that manages to remain faithful to each other wins the big prize.”

“What a weird show,” I said. I hadn’t really paid attention to Passion Island, as I’m not all that big on reality shows—they rarely feature cats, after all, or kibble—but this concept struck me as a little—or a lot—cruel.

“So what do you think happened to these women?” asked Chase.

“I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t seem to reach them.”

“Have you talked to their families? Maybe they simply don’t want to have anything to do with the show anymore,” Odelia suggested.

“Oh, I’ve tried everything. And it’s not as if they’ve actually been reported missing. In every single case they’ve decided to sever all contact with their loved ones.”

“But why?”

“Well, four women said they’d found Mr. Right, and got married after a whirlwind romance—so whirlwind they didn’t even invite their family or friends to the nuptials. And in one case the woman said she’d joined a convent in the Himalayas.”

“So… not exactly missing,” said Chase.

“None of these women has skyped or been seen alive since their alleged marriages or entry into monastic life. They’ve sent the occasional text or email, but no pictures or any other contact. No phone calls, no nothing, and their families are justifiably worried.”

“So why don’t they go to the police?” asked Odelia.

“Because they’ve been specifically asked not to. Allegedly by the women themselves.”

“And you think something else is going on.”

“Yes, I do. I think all five of them have been abducted, and a cover story has been fed to their families. Only there’s nothing I can prove, and the families don’t want the police to get involved.”

“They believe the cover story.”

Kimmy nodded. “They’re afraid that if they talk to the police they might never see their loved ones again.”

“It’s a pretty strange story,” said Chase, rubbing his chin.

“I know, and I didn’t know what to do, until I happened to mention it to my aunt, and she referred me to Alec, who referred me to you.” She directed a desperate look at Odelia. “I have a gut feeling something bad has happened to these women, and I don’t know where else to turn.”

Chapter 6

Following Odelia’s instructions, Vesta had found the spare mattress in the attic. Chase was supposed to get it down for her, but apparently he’d been detained. And since Vesta had never been the type of person to sit and wait, she’d decided to get the darn thing down herself.

Which in her case meant she’d simply shoved the mattress over to the attic door by giving it a couple of good kicks, and then, like a seasoned football player, had punted it down the stairs, sending it tumbling into the abyss.

The mattress landed on its feet—or in this case, since mattresses rarely have feet, on its side—and it only took another couple of good shoves and kicks to get it into position, squeezed in between Chase’s dumbbell rack, his home trainer, and Odelia’s desk.

“What a dumbbell,” Vesta mumbled under her breath. Why people bothered with fitness she’d never understand. If God had wanted humans to work out, he’d have outfitted them with leg warmers, a sweatband and a glittery leotard, like Jane Fonda.

She glanced around. It wasn’t exactly the coziest place in the world, but for now it would do. She didn’t like to admit it, but she hated waking up in an empty house, and going to bed without the comforting sounds of Tex and Marge brushing their teeth and hitting the hay same time as her.

She was getting pretty soft and mushy in her old age, but that couldn’t be helped. Like her cats, she was a creature both of comfort and habit, and if Marge and Tex decided to desert her, at least she had her granddaughter and that goofy cop she insisted on dating to tide her over until the European traveling couple’s triumphant return.

And she was trudging down the stairs, reminding herself she needed to ask Chase to switch the TV to her favorite channel and keep it there for the duration, when she heard the two words in the English language that never failed to give her a jolt of pleasant anticipation and excitement: Passion Island.

“So you’ll do it?” an unfamiliar woman’s voice was asking.

“I’ll have to ask my boss, but if he says yes, we’ll do it,” said Odelia. “The only problem is: I can’t really afford to spend three weeks in Thailand on my salary.”

“That’s all right. I’ve arranged for you and Detective Kingsley to join the show as one of the four couples.”

Vesta, as she entered the living room, slightly out of breath, both from excitement and the fact that she’d practically skipped the final step in her eagerness to join the conversation and had had to perform a number of complicated and acrobatic movements in order to stay upright, said, “Me too! I’m going as a couple, too!”

“Gran!” said Odelia, surprised to see her aged relative burst onto the scene like a cuckoo from a clock. She smiled at a young thin woman with glasses, and said, “This is my grandmother. She’s a big fan of Passion Island.”

“Where do I sign up?” said Vesta, licking her lips and rubbing her hands.

“Um…” said the woman, giving Vesta a decidedly skeptical once-over.

She directed an anxious glance at Odelia, who said, reassuringly, “Gran is fine. She won’t tell anyone what she just heard. Isn’t that right, Gran?”

“Who cares? I want to be on the show!”

“I’m afraid…” the woman began.

“Oh, no!” Vesta lamented plaintively. “Don’t tell me you’re not going to take me with you to Thailand! I want to go! I want to be on the show!”

“It’s a miracle Kimmy has been able to get Odelia and Chase on the show,” said Alec. “You can’t expect her to get you signed up, too, Ma.”

“But—“

“You don’t even have a partner.”

“But—“

“No,” said Alec, using his cop voice. “And no means no.”

“But, but, but…”

“Listen, I’ll send you a link that gives you exclusive behind-the-scenes access,” said the woman named Kimmy. “How does that sound?”

“Lousy! I’m going to Thailand with you! Odelia?” She turned to her granddaughter, and gave her her best puppy-dog look. “Pretty please?”

But her granddaughter was as unyielding as Kimmy. “I’m sorry, Gran,” she said. “Not this time.”

She set her jaw, gave the collected company a mulish look, and said, “This isn’t over!” then turned on her heel and strode off.

If Odelia and that Kimmy person really thought they’d deny her the opportunity to join her favorite show ever, they had another thing coming. And as she stomped out into the backyard, through the hole in the hedge and into her own backyard, the first contours of a plan started to form in her mind.

Whether Odelia liked it or not, she was going to Thailand. “Just you wait and see,” she muttered, as she slammed the kitchen door and took out her phone. She knew just who to call.

Chapter 7

“I don’t want to go to Thailand, Max,” Dooley said for the umpteenth time.

“And we’re not,” I responded, reiterating what I’d told him all those previous times.

We were walking down the street on our customary foray into town, eager to extract some snippets of news from our usual correspondents in our fair town. Snippets we faithfully relay to Odelia, who collects the greatest hits and puts them in her newspaper.

“But Odelia is going, and Chase, and there’s no way they’ll go without dragging us along,” Dooley said, and not unreasonably so.

“First off, it’s not even a sure thing Odelia is going,” I said.

“But she promised Kimmy she’d go and look for those missing women.”

“She said she was going to ask her boss. That’s a different thing altogether. And if I know Dan, he’ll probably say no. Odelia has a full plate right now, and there’s no way he’ll allow her to disappear for three weeks. Also, didn’t you hear what Chase said this morning? He has a lot of work at the police precinct, so he’s not going, either. And if they’re not going, we’re not going.”

“I hope so,” said Dooley. He didn’t look convinced, nor did I blame him. When the call of adventure sounds, Odelia is often all too eager to heed it, and usually she likes to take us along with her, as her eyes and ears in the world of pets and other furry creatures. Only I was with Dooley on this one. The prospect of becoming a yummy snack for the discerning Thai didn’t hold a lot of appeal for me. I like to eat, but that doesn’t mean I also like to be eaten, if you see what I mean.

We’d arrived in the heart of town, and made a beeline for our friend and frequent collaborator Kingman, Hampton Cove’s unofficial feline mayor. He was lounging on the sidewalk, regaling a small gathering of—strictly female—felines with his tall tales.

“Hey, you guys,” he said by way of greeting once we hove into view. “So there I was,” he continued fascinating the six or so adoring females, “hanging from a single claw, and it was only through the sheer strength of my not inconsiderable muscular prowess that I managed to hoist myself up and back to safety. Meanwhile the rat, which was easy twice my size, was first stunned then turned vicious. And as it yelled, ‘Why don’t you just dieeeeeeee!’ and came charging in my direction, pure hatred written all over its hideous features, fangs dripping with saliva, ready to pounce and shove me into the abyss, I—“

“I saw that movie!” Dooley suddenly interrupted. “I don’t remember what it was called…”

“Please be quiet,” said Kingman. “So the rat came storming in my direction and I decided to take a stand. ‘You will not pass!’ I called out to the vicious creature.”

“Ooh, Kingman!” one of the females cooed. “You’re such a hero!”

“We saw it together,” said Dooley, once again interrupting Kingman’s narrative. “It was playing on Wilbur’s little TV.” He gestured to the small TV set Wilbur Vickery, Kingman’s human, likes to keep next to the cash register, so he can watch sports when business is slow. Though he often watches when business isn’t slow, too, it must be said.

“Shush, Dooley,” said Kingman. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something? So that rat came zooming in my direction, claws out, eyes red and bulging and—“

“And then the rat attacked and they fought and by some miracle that brave little cat won the fight and flung the rat into the ravine. I liked it. The lead cat was quite the actor.”

“Dooley!” Kingman cried, as his feline audience began to show signs of restlessness.

“Yes, Kingman?” said Dooley.

But too late. The fatal fascination Kingman had held over his admirers was broken, and as they dispersed, aiming such choice words at Kingman as ‘fake’ and ‘show-off’, Kingman shouted back, “But the story isn’t finished! Ladies, please!”

But no dice. Kingman had been booed off the stage and his fans were fans no more.

He heaved a deep sigh. “So hard these days to educate and entertain. One faux pas and they’re gone.” He directed a not-too-friendly glance at my friend. “And your babbling didn’t help. Why did you have to go and interrupt me just when I was going so well?”

“Odelia is thinking about sending us to Thailand to be eaten,” said Dooley. “And we need your advice, Kingman. I don’t want to be eaten, and neither does Max.”

Kingman’s wrath quickly dissipated. “Thailand? Eaten?”

“How many times to I have to tell you, Dooley?” I said. “We’re not going to Thailand. And even if we were, I’m sure Odelia wouldn’t allow people to eat us.”

“Odelia is going to Thailand?” asked Kingman, interested. “On vacation?”

“Not a vacation,” I said. “Five women who participated in a reality show have disappeared, and the show’s assistant producer has asked Odelia to investigate.”

“What reality show?”

“Passion Island.”

“I love that show!” Kingman cried. “Wilbur watches it all the time. He even signed up for the auditions but he wasn’t selected.”

“Auditions?” I asked. “But I thought Wilbur was a bachelor?”

“Yeah, shouldn’t he audition for The Bachelor instead?” asked Dooley, indicating he knew his reality shows well. Then again, Dooley spends a lot of time with Gran, and if anyone is a reality show aficionado, it’s Odelia’s grandmother.

“He wanted to try out for seducer,” Kingman explained.

We all glanced up at Wilbur. The gaunt, white-bearded, rheumy-eyed old man was watching Tom & Jerry and chuckling delightedly, slapping his thighs in the process.

“He doesn’t look like a seducer,” Dooley said, and I thought that was probably the understatement of the year.

“No, the producers didn’t even invite him,” said Kingman. “Too bad. Wilbur said he could have done a lot of damage.”

I winced at the notion of Wilbur Vickery putting on his best seduction game. Somehow the prospect didn’t hold a lot of appeal.

“Look, if Odelia decides to go to Thailand, all you gotta do is say no,” said Kingman. “She’s your human, but that doesn’t mean you have to do what she says. You simply tell her no, not this time, and you stay home. Someone will be there to look after you guys, right?”

“Yeah, Gran definitely isn’t going,” I said.

“See? Problem solved. In fact maybe it will do you some good. No Odelia means no cases to solve or clues to hunt. Consider this a nice little vacation.”

Dooley’s face cleared, and I have to confess that the prospect of spending three weeks doing absolutely nothing sounded pretty sweet to me, too. Eating, sleeping… more eating.

Three cats came sashaying down the sidewalk, wagging their tails, and Kingman gave them his best grin. “Hey, ladies, did I tell you the story of the big hairy rat and how I defeated that sucker?”

It was clear we’d just been dismissed, and so we went on our way.

“Kingman is right, Max,” said Dooley. “If Odelia goes to Thailand we simply tell her we don’t want to go, on account of the fact that we don’t like to be eaten. She’ll understand.”

I agreed wholeheartedly. And so it was with a spring in our step and the prospect of three weeks vacation on our minds that we continued our daily perambulation of Hampton Cove.

Chapter 8

Odelia was in her editor’s office, discussing Kimmy’s request. Dan, his brow creased and his long white beard waggling, was clearly thinking hard.

“So… you’d have to go all the way to Thailand for three weeks?”

“Kimmy can get both me and Chase signed up as one of the four couples. It would be perfect. We could talk to everyone involved in the show’s production and find out what’s going on.”

“It could be dangerous,” Dan said.

“I know, but Chase will be there in case something goes wrong.”

“Mh…” said Dan, clearly not fully convinced. He was fingering his beard now, presumably digging around for crumbs he’d missed during his morning grooming session. Odelia had always wondered how men like Dan managed to keep their beards so immaculate. If she had a beard like that it would very quickly turn into a receptacle for anything that failed to go down the hatch while indulging in the occasional snack or sitting down for her three square meals a day.

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“Mh…” Dan repeated, and swiveled a little in his swivel chair. “I took a quick look at the women Kimmy claims have gone missing, and it strikes me that they’re all the same type: blond, slim and pretty.” He waggled his bushy brows. “Just like someone else I know.”

“Oh? Who?”

“You, of course! You’re the spitting image of the five women who’ve disappeared. So if there’s some kidnapper at work who likes to snatch women who’ve been on Passion Island he’ll grab you in a heartbeat.”

Odelia laughed. “No one in his right mind would try to snatch me, Dan.”

His response was another brow waggle.

“I’m not even pretty!”

“Oh, you foolish woman,” said Dan with a sigh. “Of course you are. And you have to wonder if you’re not putting yourself in harm’s way here, simply because Kimmy doesn’t want to hire a professional.”

“I am a professional,” said Odelia, expanding a little.

Dan gave her a warm smile. “A professional reporter, not a professional detective.”

“It would make for a great story,” she said, deciding to dangle the carrot. She knew Dan was a sucker for a killer story, whether it was related to Hampton Cove or not.

“It is a great story,” he agreed. “At least if the reporter writing it survives long enough to hand in her copy.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me, Dan,” she assured her boss. “Like I said, Chase will be there, and so will my cats.”

“Your cats won’t be able to stop anyone from grabbing you, and if I understand the concept of Passion Island, and I think I do, Chase will be dumped on a different island and not allowed anywhere near you. They’ll even take away your phone.”

“It’ll be fine,” she said with a careless wave of the hand. “I can take care of myself.”

“Mh…”

“I can do it in my spare time if you want! I have some vacation racked up.”

He studied her keenly, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Tell you what. You make sure you win this thing. Cause as far as I can tell, no winner of the show has been snatched, right?”

“Is that why you’re so worried?” She laughed. “You think I’ll allow one of those musclebound idiots to seduce me? Fat chance!”

“It’s not you I’m worried about, sweetheart,” said Dan, real concern lacing his voice.

She gaped at her editor, aghast. “You think… Chase will fall for some painted bimbo?”

“He’s a man, Odelia,” her editor declared solemnly, “and men are weak.”

“Not Chase. Uh-uh. Plus, we’re getting married in September.”

“Exactly. A man who’s about to be tied down for life is like a cat on a hot tin roof. He’s liable to make some very strange moves.”

She shook her head. “Nope. No way. Chase would never cheat on me.”

“If you say so.”

“I am saying so! Chase doesn’t even look at other women. He’s absolutely faithful, and I have complete faith in him.”

Dan spread his arms. “Looks like you’ve got all your bases covered.”

“You mean… it’s a go?”

He smiled. “It’s a go.” But then he raised his finger, like a schoolteacher about to dispense some nuggets of wisdom. “Just promise me you won’t put yourself in danger, and the moment you see anyone act suspicious, tell Kimmy, so she can send in the cavalry.”

“Well, let’s hope the cavalry, in the form of Chase, won’t be too busy with his harem of seductresses to come running when the call goes out,” said Odelia with a grin.

Dan nodded seriously. “Let’s hope so.”

“I was kidding!”

“I was not,” said Dan. “For a couple that’s about to tie the knot, the last thing I would advise is to participate in a show like Passion Island.”

“Don’t worry, Dan,” said Odelia as she got up. “Both Chase and I are professionals. This is just a job for us, not an opportunity to go wild.”

But as she left the office, she had the impression Dan still wasn’t fully on board with the scheme. And she had to admit that his attitude had sown the first seeds of doubt in her mind. Maybe Dan was right. Subjecting Chase to six seasoned seductresses—some of the most beautiful women on the planet—eager to do anything and everything in their power to lure him into their beds, maybe wasn’t the best idea for a man about to say ‘I do.’

But then she shrugged off Dan’s misgivings. The man was old and cynical. That’s what you got from being a newspaperman for forty years. You got jaded.

Chase would be fine, and so would she, and she’d get one hell of a story out of the whole thing. Even if Kimmy was wrong, and no foul play was involved, she’d still get the inside scoop on one of the most popular reality shows in recent times.

Three weeks in a tropical paradise, all expenses paid. Yippie!

Chapter 9

As is our custom, we dropped by the office to regale Odelia with the latest tidbits of news from the streets of Hampton Cove. It wasn’t all that earth-shattering, but still. Buster, the hairdresser’s Main Coon, told us that Gwayn Partington, the plumber, was having an affair with the electrician’s wife, and that Mayor Butterwick had decided to adopt a new hairstyle. Over at the police precinct we’d witnessed firsthand how Uncle Alec had been looking up websites on hair transplants and had taken receipt of a box of Slimmo, the patented method of losing up to thirty pounds in a single week. And at the doctor’s office Tex’s replacement Denby Jennsen was still as popular as ever, his waiting room filled with half of Hampton Cove’s female population. Jennsen is a very handsome man, it must be said, and could probably snag a major part in any medical TV show.

Denby’s Anatomy, in other words, was very much in demand.

So all in all not much news, and certainly nothing worth printing, unless Odelia decided to turn the budding romance between her uncle and Charlene Butterwick into newspaper fodder, turning them into a local celebrity couple. Somehow I didn’t think the affair between the town’s mayor and chief of police would capture the hearts and minds to the same extent as some Hollywood heartthrob’s latest conquest, though.

“Great news, you guys,” said Odelia the moment we walked into her office.

“We have some great news, too,” said Dooley. “Uncle Alec is getting new hair and a new waistline.”

This stymied Odelia somewhat. “What?” she asked, taken aback a little.

I explained to her about Slimmo and the hair transplant site and Odelia tsk-tsked mildly. “You shouldn’t spy on my uncle or my uncle’s girlfriend, you guys.”

And here I thought she wanted us to spy on everyone. “Also, Charlene asked Fido to give her Jennifer Aniston’s hair,” said Dooley, not discouraged by Odelia’s admonition.

Odelia frowned as she processed this. “Mh. So Charlene got Jennifer Aniston’s haircut and my uncle is surfing hair transplant websites and taking dodgy diet pills. I have a feeling their romance is seriously hotting up.”

“He was also surfing some other site,” said Dooley. He crinkled his brow as he tried to recall. “They sell little blue pills that help men with their election. Do you think Uncle Alec is going to enter the election, Odelia?”

Odelia blushed a little, and appeared flustered by this information. I would have corrected Dooley, but somehow I had a feeling this would lead me into hot water, so I didn’t.

Odelia cleared her throat. “In other news,” she said, “I think you’ll be happy to know that Dan has given me the green light.”

Dooley appeared puzzled. “Why would Dan give you a green light?”

“I mean, he gave me the go-ahead.”

“Go ahead where?”

“Thailand! And you guys are coming with!”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cat turn white around the nostrils. For one thing it’s very hard to notice, what with all the hair, but I had the distinct impression Dooley went as white as a sheet. “But I don’t want to go!” he cried, once he’d recovered from the shock.

“What?” said Odelia, taken aback by his vehemence.

“They eat cats in Thailand, Odelia,” he lamented, “and I don’t want to be eaten!”

She laughed—actually had the gall to laugh at our predicament! I’d always thought Odelia was a compassionate person, always looking out for our well-being. But now, certain death staring us in the face, she was practically rolling on the floor laughing!

“People don’t eat cats in Thailand, Dooley,” she said once she’d recovered from her laughing fit. “That’s China you’re thinking about.”

“No, I’m not thinking about China,” said Dooley. “I’m thinking about Thailand and the fact that I don’t want to be roasted over a slow fire like a chicken.”

“Rotisserie cat,” I said in a low voice, and shivered from stem to stern. “Brrr.”

“Look, you guys, no one is going to roast you over a fire, slow or otherwise. I’m sure the Thai simply love cats—they revere them. So you’ll be perfectly safe. And I’ll be there with you the whole time, so nothing can happen. In fact, since I’m one of the candidates, I’m pretty sure I’ll be treated like royalty over there. And that means so will you.”

“Royalty?” asked Dooley, still suspicious. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! Passion Island is the network’s biggest moneymaker, so they’re going to make sure we’re pampered to within an inch of our lives. And you know what that means. The best hotel, the best food, the best accommodations. In fact it wouldn’t surprise me if you two didn’t get your own personal assistant to cater to your every need.”

I perked up at this, and so did Dooley. A personal assistant catering to our every need was just the kind of thing I’d always dreamed of. Odelia may be the best human a cat could find, but she’s also a very busy human, always running off to cover some story or try and solve some mystery, rarely taking the time to pamper us twenty-four seven.

“When are we leaving?” asked Dooley, having come around to the idea of going to Thailand in record time.

“I’ll have to confirm with Kimmy, but I think we’re expected to travel in a couple of days. They’d selected another couple, but they’ve had to drop out, on account of the fact that the woman turned out to be pregnant.”

“They don’t like pregnant women on the show?” I asked.

“No, that’s where they draw the line. They don’t mind breaking up couples, but not couples that are married, or pregnant. They’re not that cruel. So Kimmy managed to slot us in, since they needed a new couple last minute.” She grabbed her phone. “I have to tell Chase. He needs to talk to my uncle about taking a leave of absence.”

“What about Harriet and Brutus?” I asked.

“What about them?” said Odelia distractedly as she typed a message on her phone, fingers darting across the screen with a dexterity that was close to the speed of light.

“Are they also going to Thailand?”

“Nope. When I told Kimmy I wanted to bring my pets she wasn’t keen. She only relented when I made it clear I wasn’t going without you, but she drew the line at two. If I took Harriet and Brutus I’d look more like a crazy cat lady and less like a candidate for Passion Island. Gran will take care of Harriet and Brutus while we’re away.”

I shared a look of concern with Dooley. Somehow I had the feeling this wouldn’t go down well with Harriet. Not well at all.

Chapter 10

“What do you mean I can’t go?” Gran cried. She stood, hands on hips, looking the picture of distress and disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Gran, but it’s a miracle Kimmy managed to get me and Chase on the show. There’s no way she could extend the courtesy to other members of my family.”

“What other members? I’m your sidekick. I’m the Dr. Watson to your Sherlock Holmes, the Hastings to your Poirot, the Jake to your Fatman—not that you’re fat.”

“It’s just another investigation, Gran,” said Odelia. “You’d be bored to tears.”

“Bored to tears on Passion Island? Are you nuts? It’s the adventure of a lifetime, the thing I’ve been dreaming of!”

They were in Odelia’s living room, Jeopardy playing in the background, and an aproned Chase preparing dinner in the kitchen—spaghetti bolognese, his specialty.

“You’re not going to leave your poor old granny at home, are you?” asked Gran, lip quivering and voice breaking. “All alone in this big old house with no one to take care of me?”

“Harriet and Brutus will be here,” Odelia pointed out. “And I’ve asked Uncle Alec to drop by every day.”

“It’s not the same and you know it,” said Gran, sinking down onto the couch. “Besides, Alec is so busy wining and dining Charlene these days he’ll forget about his poor old mother the moment you take off for the airport.” Next to Gran on the couch, two more disappointed members of Odelia’s family sat. Reading left to right, they were Harriet and Brutus. Though Brutus didn’t look half as disappointed as Harriet. In fact Odelia had the impression Brutus didn’t mind one bit. Harriet, though, looked crestfallen.

“I love that show, Odelia,” said the Persian. “In fact it’s the one show that could really benefit from my presence.”

Harriet had told Odelia all about her idea to launch a second Passion Island show, this time focusing on cats. Odelia didn’t see how that was even remotely possible, but it just goes to show that Harriet loved Passion Island with a passion bordering on obsession. It pained Odelia to have to leave them behind, but there was simply no way she could talk Kimmy into providing accommodation for two more of her cats.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But it’s only for a short time. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Why don’t you take me and leave Max?” Harriet suggested now. “I mean, I’m just as much of a sleuth as he is, and he doesn’t even like Passion Island. I do. I know everything there is to know about that show.”

“Don’t waste your breath, honey,” said Gran as she morosely stared at Alex Trebek. “Can’t you see her mind is made up? My favorite granddaughter has decided to stab her nearest and dearest in the back, all for the chance of becoming a star.”

“Gran, it’s not like that,” said Odelia.

“Oh, no?” The old lady pointed a bony finger in her granddaughter’s direction. “The moment you’re selected for Passion Island you cruelly ditch your sickly old grandmother and your two favorite cats. You know what I call that? Diva behavior. You’re not the same person you once were, Odelia. Success has gone to your head. It’s made you hard. In fact, you know what?” She got up very swiftly for a sickly old lady, and made for the sliding glass door. “I don’t think I want to see you for a while. I’m going back to my own home. Alone. Without anyone to love me or care for me.” And with a stifled sob, she slowly closed the door, stared at Odelia for a few moments, then slumped her shoulders and slouched off.

“Maybe we can find a way to bring her along?” Odelia suggested now, her heart breaking at the sight of her gran.

“Don’t fall for it,” said Chase. “She’s just putting on an act.”

“You think so?”

“Sure.” Chase smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I haven’t known your gran as long as you have, obviously, but even I can tell when she’s faking it.”

“Still…”

“She’s better off here. If what Kimmy suspects is true, the set of Passion Island is the last place she should be. That place is dangerous.”

Odelia nodded and put placemats on the table.

“Besides, I’ll bet she’ll be back here in five minutes.”

“She will?”

“Sure. The woman loves my spaghetti.”

That night, Odelia talked to her parents on Skype. She was happy to see how well they looked.

“Thailand?” asked her dad. “Are you sure, honey? I’ve heard terrible stories about those reality shows. And participants disappearing? That doesn’t sound like the thing you should get involved in.”

“Kimmy doesn’t have anywhere else to turn, Dad,” she said. “And I’m sure the set will be a safe place. The participants only disappeared once the show was already taped.”

“I love Passion Island,” said her mother, not surprisingly. “In fact I’ve asked your grandmother to record the reruns. I hope she hasn’t forgotten.”

“Oh, I doubt it,” said Dad. “Not now that her granddaughter will be one of the participants.” He smiled broadly. In spite of his qualms, he was clearly proud of his daughter. “And you’re telling me Chase will also be there?”

“Yeah, we’re going as a couple.”

“And the idea is…”

“Oh, Tex,” said Mom, giving her husband a light slap on the shoulder. “I’ve told you a million times how it works. Four couples go to Thailand, then are separated. The men on one island and the women on another. Six seducers then try to seduce the women, and six seductresses try to seduce the men. The couple that manages to stay together, wins.”

“But why?” asked Tex. “What’s the point?”

“It’s a reality show!” said Odelia laughingly. “Does there really have to be a point?”

Dad was shaking his head. “So six men are going to try and seduce you?”

“Yeah, and six of the most gorgeous women are going to try and seduce Chase.” As she spoke the words, Dan’s reservations echoed in her ears. She decided to ignore them.

“I don’t know, honey. Still sounds like a bad idea if you ask me,” said Dad.

“What sounds like a bad idea, Dad?” asked Chase, pulling up a chair.

Dad winced. Lately Chase had started calling him ‘Dad’ and for some reason it grated on the good doctor. “So, um, how is Denby doing?” he asked, abruptly changing the topic.

“Oh, he’s fine,” said Odelia. “I dropped by this afternoon and he said he’s never been busier. He didn’t know Hampton Cove had so many sick people.”

“Sick women, you mean,” said Chase. “Since he took over for Dad the number of women has multiplied, and I don’t think it’s because they’ve all suddenly developed some life-threatening disease, either.” He laughed. “He’s one handsome devil, that Denby, Dad. Aren’t you worried he’ll take over your office and settle down permanently?”

“Denby would never do that,” said Dad stoically. “So, Chase, how do you feel about this whole Passion Island gag?”

Chase suddenly turned serious. Odelia had often noticed that her fiancé had two faces: his regular, laidback demeanor, and his cop face, which he pulled when he talked shop. As if some inner switch was flipped and his well-honed police instincts took over. “I think the whole thing stinks,” he said now. “Five women disappearing and the producers don’t even want to investigate? Something is pretty rotten, Dad.”

“Please,” said Dad, in a slightly strangled voice. “Just… call me Tex?”

“But why, Dad? We’re family now.”

“Just… humor me, will you?”

Chase shrugged, but Odelia could tell he wasn’t happy about it. “Sure… Tex.”

Abruptly the tall cop got up and stalked off.

“Where did he go?” asked Dad, surprised.

“Where do you think? You just told him not to call you dad,” said Odelia.

“How could you, Tex?” said Mom. “Chase loves you and you had to go and break his heart.”

“I didn’t break his heart! I just don’t like it when people call me dad that aren’t my flesh and blood.”

“Tex!”

“What?!”

“Yeah, Dad, that wasn’t very nice of you,” said Odelia.

“It sounds weird!”

“Well, get used to it, cause Chase is going to be in our lives a lot from now on,” said Mom.

“Oh, all right. He can call me dad. Happy now?”

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Tex,” said Mom.

“I mean it! I do!”

“Then you better tell Chase. And apologize.”

“Chase!” Odelia called out. “Dad wants to tell you something!”

Chase came ambling up, hands stuffed into his pockets, his face a thundercloud. “What?” he asked sullenly as he reluctantly sat down again, then studied his fingernails.

“Chase, son,” said Dad, “I’m sorry about before. I want you to call me dad from now on.”

“I thought you wanted me to call you Tex?” Chase grumbled.

“Well, I’d love it if you called me dad,” said Dad. “Absolutely love it.” He winced a little, then said, “I was worried you wouldn’t want to. And I didn’t want you to feel obligated.”

Chase’s face lit up. “I don’t mind. In fact I love it. Dad.”

Dad grimaced, then managed an ingratiating smile. “That’s the spirit. Son.”

“We’re one big happy family,” said Mom. “And that’s just the way we like it.”

“One big happy family but I’m not included,” Gran muttered as she walked by on her way to the stairs.

“Ma!” mom yelled, but Gran ignored her. “What did she say just now?”

“Oh, she’s mad because she doesn’t get to go to Thailand,” Odelia explained.

“She’ll get over it,” Mom said. “Now there’s one thing I want to tell Chase before we sign off. Whatever happens in Thailand—“

“Stays in Thailand,” Dad said with a grin, earning himself another slap from Mom.

“Whatever happens, Chase, remember one thing.”

Odelia smiled as she fully expected her mother to tell Chase that his future wife loved him, and that no seductresses could ever come between him and true love.

Instead, Mom said: “There are infrared cameras in the bedrooms capturing your every move. In fact they’ve got cameras hooked up all over the island.”

“Oh-kay,” said Chase, a little startled.

“Mom!” said Odelia. “Chase doesn’t need to know about the cameras because there’s not going to be anything worth filming. Isn’t that right, Chase? Honey?”

“No, of course, of course,” said Chase, a little too quickly, Odelia felt.

Dad suddenly leaned closer to the screen. “I also got something to tell you, son.” The upper half of his face now filled the screen. “If you cheat on my daughter you never get to call me dad ever again, is that understood?”

“I understand, sir,” said Chase soberly.

“I mean it, son. If you ever so much as lay a hand on one of those sedu—“

But the connection cut out before he could finish his sentence. Possibly because Mom and Dad had bad Wi-Fi in the hotel in Rome where they were currently holed up, or—more likely, Odelia felt—because Mom had ended the conversation, not wanting Dad to start threatening Chase with grievous bodily harm.

And not for the first time since she’d accepted the assignment, a tiny sliver of doubt entered Odelia’s mind. And when she opened the email Kimmy had sent, containing pictures of all six seductresses, those doubts only multiplied.

These women were every man’s wet dream.

She just hoped they weren’t Chase’s.

Chapter 11

Cats don’t fly. That’s always been my contention and I stick to it. We’re not built for being hurled through infinite space in a narrow metal tube. Still, if we’re compelled to fly, on account of the fact that our human doesn’t take no for an answer, best to do it in style.

And it has to be said: Sunshine Pictures had spared no expense to transport its contestants from one part of the world to the other. On the flight over, Dooley and I even had our own cubicle where we were being pampered to our hearts’ content.

“Air travel is starting to grow on me, Max,” said Dooley once we were well underway. We’d just tucked into our bowls of gourmet lasagna—Garfield-approved, no doubt—and a very nice young lady had fluffed up our cushions to perfection, and as we gazed out at the deck of clouds below, the plane’s powerful engines taking us ever closer to the land of the Thai, I endorsed my friend’s view wholeheartedly.

“It doesn’t really feel as if we’re hundreds of feet in the air,” I said.

“And those clouds look like soft pillows,” he said, a little lazily. “So if we fall from the sky, we’ll probably land very softly.”

“We won’t even feel a thing.”

“Just a very smooth sensation of landing on top a giant ball of cotton.”

Suddenly, the intercom crackled to life and the captain’s voice croaked, “Be advised that we’re approaching some minor turbulence. Please fasten your seatbelts.”

And even before the words were out of the man’s mouth, suddenly the plane dropped from the sky and my stomach collided with my teeth.

“Max!” Dooley cried. “We’re going to dieeeeeeeeee!”

I would have dissuaded him from this bleak view hadn’t I taken the same view myself. “This is the end!” I cried, as my friend clasped his paws around my, admittedly, pudgy midsection.

“Max, you’re my best friend and I love you so much!” Dooley tooted in my ear.

“Likewise, Dooley. I love you, buddy!”

The plane suddenly lurched, and both Dooley and I were swept up into the air and almost hit the ceiling, before returning with a plop to our cushioned seats. Meanwhile, we both yelled our little heads off.

“I once ate a piece of kibble that belonged to you, Max!” Dooley said, having entered the confession stage of this impending-doom scenario.

“I forgive you!” I returned.

“And I once peed in Brutus’s water bowl after he said some nasty things about you!”

“Oh, Dooley!”

“He told me later his water tasted funny and thought it was ozone.”

I laughed, and so did Dooley. And then, as unexpectedly as it had started, the plane steadied, and the captain announced that the ‘mild’ turbulence was a thing of the past.

“Um, Dooley?” I said after a moment’s pause.

“Yes, Max?”

“You can let go of me now.”

“Oh, all right.”

Odelia popped her head into our little cubicle. “Are you guys all right?”

“I thought we were going to die,” Dooley confessed.

“Me, too,” I said.

She smiled. “You didn’t die, and you’re not going to. Now try to get some rest. It’s still a couple of hours before we land.”

She withdrew, leaving us to ruminate on our most recent brush with death.

“Max?”

“Mh?”

“I don’t think I like airplanes all that much after all.”

“Me, neither.”

I must have fallen asleep then, for when I woke up the plane was already landing. We’d arrived in Thailand, and our new adventure had begun.

The moment we were off the plane, a fancy black car took us to our hotel, where Odelia proceeded to introduce us to our room. The next day we were traveling to the island that would be our home for the next couple of weeks. But for now we were in five-star lodgings in the heart of Bangkok, which is Thailand’s capital, and probably its most famous city.

As I gazed out of the hotel room window, I saw a hubbub of life outside. Little cars called rickshaws or Tuk-tuks crisscrossed the streets, and it appeared as if there were people and cars and buses everywhere.

“This looks a lot busier than Hampton Cove,” Dooley remarked.

“Yes, it certainly does,” I agreed.

I also saw plenty of dogs that didn’t seem to belong to anyone, and wondered briefly if the rumors about the Thai eating cats and dogs weren’t true, after all. At least they couldn’t eat us, ensconced as we were in our fancy hotel room.

“Let’s go out,” Odelia announced.

“Are you sure? I’m pretty bushed,” Chase replied, indicating her words hadn’t been meant for Dooley and myself.

“Yeah, I’ve never been to Bangkok before. We should take this opportunity to see something of the city.”

“As you wish,” said Chase with a smile.

Odelia crouched down next to us. “Will you guys be all right in here?”

“Oh, sure,” I said, and stifled a yawn. In spite of the fact that I’d slept on the plane, I was ready for another nap. “You and Chase have a good time,” I said encouragingly. “Dooley and I will nap until you get back.”

She petted my head and then they were off, leaving us in the relative silence of our room on the fourth floor of the hotel.

And it has to be said, I slept like a log, and didn’t even notice when Odelia and Chase returned.

“It’s jet lag,” Dooley knew when we both woke up in the middle of the night. “I saw it on the Discovery Channel. Your body travels through several time zones and it takes a while to catch up.”

We were both curled up on the foot of the bed, and as I listened to the combined snores of Odelia and Chase, it felt just like home.

I woke up again from the sound of footfalls on the carpet and opened my eyes to see what was going on.

In the darkness of the room, I suddenly saw that a man was standing there. He was at the foot of the bed, holding up a phone and it looked as if he was filming us.

I gulped a little, and poked Odelia’s foot. She stirred, and I whispered, “There’s someone standing there filming us!”

“Yes, Mom,” she murmured. “I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

“Chase, wake up!” I said, giving the cop’s foot a prod.

“The name is Bond. Chase Bond,” Chase mumbled.

“There’s an intruder!” I loud-whispered, to no avail.

The intruder must have gotten hip to the fact that a cat was following his every move, and what sounded to Odelia’s ears as actual words forming coherent sentences must have sounded to him like plaintive mewling.

So even before I managed to rouse my human from sleep, the man lowered his phone and tip-toed away again.

I hopped down from the bed, eager to go in pursuit and find out what was going on, but as I reached the door, he closed it, and that put a stop to my attempts to play detective.

Before he shut the door, though, I caught a glimpse of his face. A scar sliced his left eyebrow, giving him a very sinister aspect indeed.

As I returned to the bed, this time eager to alert my human of the dastardly deeds in progress, she opened her eyes and, after I’d told her my tale, smiled and said, “Go back to sleep, Max. You’re just having a nightmare, that’s all.”

“But he was right here!” I cried.

“That’s great,” she mumbled, and tumbled into a deep sleep, setting an example for me to follow.

Unfortunately I wasn’t convinced it had been a nightmare. In fact I was pretty sure it had been a real person. But I was so tired that soon sleep came, regardless of my vigilance, and when Scarface returned, it was in my dreams, just as Odelia had said. Only in my dream he wasn’t holding up a smartphone but a dead cat. And as he opened his mouth, showcasing two neat rows of razor-sharp teeth, he growled, “I could eat a horse!” But instead of a horse, he ate the cat instead!

I returned to wakefulness with a yelp, only to be greeted by the sight of Chase prancing around the room in his boxers and announcing, “I could eat a horse!” to anyone who would listen.

“What’s wrong, Max?” asked Dooley. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

After I’d told him my tale of woe and sorrow—or rather our nocturnal visitor—he stared at me, wide-eyed and fearful.

“A catnapper!” he cried. “He was here to catnap and eat us, Max!”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t have any intention of eating us,” I assured my friend.

“But then what was he doing here?”

“I have no idea.” I glanced at my human, who was sitting up and yawning, looking pretty bedraggled. Even under normal circumstances Odelia isn’t a morning person, but now she looked as if she’d gone through several spin cycles in a washing machine. So I decided to wait to tell her what had happened until she’d had her breakfast.

Still, it was a portentous way to start our trip. Nocturnal visitors filming us while we were sleeping? Not good!

Chapter 12

Breakfast was also an opportunity to meet some of the members of the production team. Kimmy was there, of course, but also her boss, Clint Bunda, a barrel-chested man with a head shaped like a bullet and gleaming like one, too. Either he’d had a close shave, or he was naturally hairless. Odelia was greeted with a cordial handshake, and so was Chase.

“I’m so glad Kimmy found you,” said Clint as he put his feet under the table. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. The couple who were supposed to come turned out to be married and pregnant! Which of course is strictly against the rules.”

“Well, we’re neither married nor pregnant,” said Chase, earning himself a laugh from the producer.

“Have the other couples arrived already?” asked Odelia.

“Yeah, I think they’ll be here soon,” he said, twisting his head to scan the dining room. “That couple over there is part of the lineup,” he said as he gestured to a young couple seated at one of the tables.

“They’re very young,” said Odelia.

“Yeah, most participants are,” said Clint. “Not everyone wants to jeopardize their relationship this way. The younger the more adventurous, and also the less invested in their relationship, of course. How long have you guys been together?”

“Three years,” said Odelia.

“Long time,” said the producer, nodding as he sedulously buttered his bagel. “And still willing to risk it all, huh?”

“Yeah, we’re planning to get married soon,” Chase explained, repeating the story they’d rehearsed. “And we figured the prize money would come in handy.”

Clint chuckled. “Getting married can cost an arm and a leg. I would know. My daughter got married last year, and it pretty much ruined me. I told her if she ever gets divorced, she’s going to pay me back—with interest!”

“Ha ha,” said Chase obligingly.

“Ha ha,” said Odelia pleasantly.

The only one who wasn’t laughing was Kimmy. She probably was used to her boss’s peculiar sense of humor.

The dining room was filling up quickly, and Odelia eyed the breakfast buffet eagerly.

“Don’t worry,” said Kimmy, leaning in as she caught Odelia’s look. “There’s plenty.”

She laughed. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“Because I thought the same thing when I first came out here. This hotel is one of the best in the city.”

“We went out last night and I have to say the nightlife is impressive,” she said.

“I know. Did you go to Khao San Road?”

“We did! I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people having such a good time.”

She and Chase had both been pretty tired, but had still walked around for an hour or so before returning to their hotel. The flashy lights, music and people everywhere had been intoxicating, and it was obvious Bangkok was a city that never slept—unlike them.

“The weirdest thing happened last night,” said Odelia the moment Clint had gotten up to chat with the other couple. “I woke up in the middle of the night and I could have sworn there was someone in the room with us, filming us with his smartphone. When I called out, he quickly disappeared.”

Kimmy frowned thoughtfully. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.” She wasn’t, of course, still convinced it had simply been Max having a nightmare. When he’d repeated his story that morning, and added he’d had a real nightmare later on, this time featuring a cat-eating villainous figure, she’d been even more inclined to favor the nightmare story. Then again, Max was no fool. If he said he’d seen someone, it was better to check.

“Do you think there’s a way to see who it was?” she asked. “Security cameras in the corridor, maybe, or even the room?”

“I’ll ask hotel security,” said Kimmy, nodding. “I don’t think there’s cameras in the rooms, for reasons of privacy, but the hallways and corridors are probably watched.”

She got up, and so did Odelia. She’d been eyeing those little muffins and other pastries for a long time, and finally couldn’t resist the urge. And as she walked over, a young couple entered the dining room and glanced around. He was sporting an intricately cut hairstyle, with what looked like a name razored on the side of his head. It spelled ‘Hot Dude.’ He also was wearing shades and a tank top that showcased his chiseled physique. She was blond, extremely tan, and had a nose ring. In her daisy dukes and crop top she looked like the perfect candidate for Passion Island.

Odelia smiled in their direction, and opened her mouth to introduce herself, when they both pointedly ignored her and walked the other way.

Odelia retracted her proffered hand and shrugged. She wasn’t here to make friends, but it would have been nice to find some, considering she and Chase were going to be separated soon, and not even allowed a cell phone.

As she piled her plate with those tiny pastries, the female half of the couple Clint had pointed out to them followed her example.

“Are you also here for Passion Island?” asked the woman, sounding nervous.

She was a brunette, with her hair in a ponytail, and looked pretty but a little plain, at least in comparison to the other couple.

“Yes, I am,” said Odelia.

“Oh, great,” said the woman, and held out her hand. “I’m Tina, and that guy over there eating his body weight in sausages is Nick.”

Odelia,” said Odelia, and gestured to her table. “And that’s Chase.”

“He looks fit,” said Tina, and immediately looked mortified. “Oh, heck, I said that out loud, didn’t I? I mean, he looks nice.”

“And fit,” said Odelia with a smile. “He’s not a seducer, though, so you won’t be seeing him, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” said the woman, her cheeks coloring. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I guess I’m not used to this kind of thing. Seducers and seductresses and all of that stuff. This wasn’t my idea, you know. It was all Nick. He pretty much had to drag me here kicking and screaming;” She rolled her eyes. “Men.”

“So why did you agree?”

“Well, Nick said this would be the ultimate relationship test for us. We’re getting married in the fall, see.” She showed a neat little engagement ring, proudly holding it out for Odelia’s inspection. “And Nick thought it would be a good idea to make sure there were no doubts. I’m a pretty jealous kind of gal, and I’ve been giving Nick hell, I’m afraid. He’s got a pretty extensive circle of friends, a lot of them women. And so I get insecure. And he just figured we’d settle this once and for all, and he’d prove to me that he loves me and he’s not going to cheat on me. And 50.000 prize money sounds pretty sweet.”

“Yeah, that’s the main reason we’re doing this,” Odelia confided, reiterating her rehearsed storyline. “We’re getting married in September, and that money would be a nice down payment for a house.”

“Oh, you lucky girl!” Tina cried, then held her hand to her mouth again. “I keep blurting out the most inappropriate things, don’t I?”

“It’s all right,” said Odelia, laughing.

They both watched as Nick was approached by the female half of the other couple, and immediately his face lit up and he started making animated conversation.

Next to Odelia, Tina sighed. “See what I mean? He can’t see a woman or he has to chat her up.”

Odelia nodded, and felt for Tina. She had the impression she wouldn’t go home with the big prize. But instead, she said, “I’m sure he’s just being friendly.”

But from the way Nick’s eyes kept dropping down the woman’s crop top and checking out her enhanced chest, friendly probably wasn’t the right word.

Chapter 13

Odelia had arranged for Dooley and me to be treated to a breakfast as hearty as the one she and Chase were getting. Which meant… room service! Now if there’s one thing I love about traveling it’s this very concept of room service. Of course you could say that us cats enjoy room service all of our lives, but the service at a hotel is still a little different from the one at home. I don’t know if it’s the food, or being far from home, but overall it’s a pleasant experience. Especially if the room service person is as friendly as the one who’d delivered our breakfast—a sweet lady with extremely kind demeanor.

So we thanked our benefactor, even though she probably couldn’t understand a meow we said, and dug into our juicy fillets and sauce-covered nuggets with relish.

And it was as we devoured the treats that the door opened again and a man strode in.

“More room service!” Dooley cried happily. “Oh, Max, my bones are going to become as big as yours if this keeps up!”

I gave him a look of extreme censure, which went straight over his head, as he was too busy eagerly anticipating this new person’s gifts, and so I turned my attention in the same direction.

And got the shock of a lifetime.

The man who’d just entered… was the same man from last night.

“It’s the guy!” I cried.

“I know!” said Dooley. “I hope he’s brought pâté. I love pâté.”

“No, I mean it’s the same guy from last night. The intruder!”

Dooley’s jaw dropped. “What does he want!” he cried.

It soon became clear what the man wanted: to snoop.

He went straight for Odelia’s laptop, which she’d left on the table, and opened it. His hands were gloved, and his fingers were soon deftly probing the keyboard. Judging from the look of frustration on his face, though, Odelia’s password gave him pause.

So instead, he started searching around, until he found her iPad.

“We have to do something,” I said. “He’s going to steal Odelia’s tablet!”

“But what can we do!” said Dooley. “He’s a lot bigger and a lot stronger than us!”

“He doesn’t know we’re here,” I said. “Maybe we can scare him away.”

Dooley blinked. It was obvious he wasn’t fully on board with my plan. Heck, I wasn’t fully on board with my plan, and it was my own plan! This man had featured in my nightmare, stringing up a cat and threatening to eat it, so I wasn’t exactly eager to make his acquaintance. But we couldn’t stand idly by and watch him burgle the room, either.

So with a loud meow, I burst onto the scene.

The man looked up, startled at the sight and sound of yours truly. What he didn’t do, though, even though I’d hoped he would, was turn tail and run to the nearest exit.

Instead, he growled, “Get lost, you filthy animal.”

Now if there’s one thing I don’t like it’s to be called a filthy animal. Like most cats I take pride in my sense of personal hygiene. I primp, I prink, and sometimes I even preen.

“I’m not a filthy animal,” I told the man. “You’re the filthy animal. Coming in here and stealing Odelia’s tablet.”

But he wasn’t to be deterred. I guess that’s where dogs have it easier. If they’re big enough, and loud enough, they can scare any burglarious individual away simply by stepping onto the scene. Whereas cats have that cuddly, endearing image going for them. Not exactly the way to go when faced with an element of the criminal classes.

It was at this moment that Dooley finally overcame his natural tendency towards timidity, and leaped onto the scene with a loud hiss, his tail distended and his back arched.

“Yikes!” the intruder yelped at the sight of my friend. But instead of beating a retreat, as any sane man would have done, he still found the time to check Odelia’s tablet.

“It’s not working, Max,” said Dooley. “He doesn’t seem to be impressed.”

“I think we have to attack, Dooley,” I said.

“Attack?”

“Yeah, claws out and attack!” I instructed, leading by example.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been attacked by a cat? I can assure you it’s not a pleasant experience. We may be cuddly and cute, renowned for our lovable persona and sweet-natured companionship, but when the gloves are off, we can do some real damage.

It’s all in the claws, you see. They’re pretty sharp, and when applied with precision and intent, can dig deep in places you wouldn’t expect.

Like someone’s thigh.

So as Dooley attacked the man’s right thigh, and I dug my claws into the left, the man screamed both in surprise and agony, as he desperately tried to dislodge us from his person.

I wasn’t to be deterred, though, and neither was Dooley. My friend may be the sweetest cat on the planet, but once he’s going well, it’s hard to make him stop.

And it was as I clawed my way up from the man’s thigh to his nether regions, pretty much treating the intruder like I would a tree or scratching post, that he threw in the towel, and with a blood-curdling scream—his blood, not mine—made for the door, hindered somewhat by two cats dangling from the lower strata of his corpus.

As he reached the door, he made a swiping motion with his hands, and sent both myself and Dooley flying, but not before a ripping sound indicated we’d done our bit, turning his nice jeans into mere strips of torn fabric flapping around the man’s legs.

As is our wont, we landed on our feet, and watched with a measure of satisfaction as the man slammed the door, after hurling a certain measure of abuse in our direction.

Sticks and stones, though, right? And at least we’d achieved our objective: Odelia’s personal possessions had been safeguarded, and Scarface had been outfitted with a few more scars for his collection.

“My heart,” said Dooley, panting as loudly as I did. “It’s beating so fast, Max!”

“Yeah, that’s normal,” I said. My heart was practically hammering through my chest, too. “It’s the adrenaline,” I told Dooley.

“It tastes funny,” said Dooley now, as he licked his claw.

“That’s blood,” I said.

Dooley gulped a little. “Blood!”

But before we could thresh the matter out more thoroughly, the room door opened again, and this time Odelia and Chase walked in. And as we regaled them with the story of our recent heroics, Odelia didn’t look happy. Not happy at all. Nor could I blame her. If strange men with scarred faces enter your room not once but twice in a short space of time, it’s enough to give you pause.

Of course, we were in a strange town in a strange country. It was entirely possible that breaking into rooms to go through people’s personal possessions and taking pictures while they’re sleeping is some sort of local custom. All part of the Bangkok experience.

Though somehow, judging from Odelia’s reaction, and Chase’s, I didn’t think so.

Chapter 14

Odelia and Chase didn’t have time to investigate the break-in properly, as at eleven on the dot they were expected downstairs in the lobby. Surrounded by cameras, the four couples were expected to enact the second scene of the sixth season of Passion Island: the teary goodbye.

The first scene had been the interview Kimmy had set up, which had taken place in their hotel room. They’d talked a little about themselves, their history as a couple, and what they expected from their participation in the show.

Max and Dooley had both been relegated to their respective cages, something which they absolutely abhorred but which was necessary for the trip to the island, and as Odelia and Chase hammed it up for the cameras, Odelia even managing to squeeze a couple of tears from her eyes like a seasoned actress, she had the impression that the other couples didn’t even have to fake it. Tina and Nick were bawling like babies, and even the tough-looking blonde was crying her eyes out, even if her other half wasn’t. The fourth couple, whom she only saw now for the first time, was a plain-looking pair. The girl, named Joanna, was a freckle-faced pretty redhead, and her boyfriend was a chubby-looking young man who could have been a sales manager in an insurance company.

She understood now what Kimmy had told her about the selection process Clint employed: they tried to get people whom the public could identify with. So when they failed to stay together, the viewers at home would be as thrown as the cheated partner.

Chase held her close, and whispered, “Talk to you soon, babe… on our secret phone.”

She smiled. Kimmy had promised to sneak them a phone, so they could stay in touch. All they needed to do was make sure Clint didn’t catch them.

“I feel like a spy going on a secret mission,” she said.

“It’ll be fine,” said Chase. “Though I’m still not entirely sure this is such a good idea.”

“Why?”

“You’re the one running the risk. It’s not the men they target but the women.”

He was right, of course. That and Scarface lurking around their hotel room was enough to give Odelia the heebie-jeebies.

Kimmy had talked to security, but unfortunately the cameras in that section of the hotel had suffered an electrical failure. Coincidence? Somehow she didn’t think so.

“If anything happens, you can always swim to the rescue,” she quipped.

Chase grinned. “Just say the word, babe, and I’m on my way.”

The two islands—Koh Samui for the women and Koh Phangan for the men—were separated by a nineteen-mile strip of sea that could be crossed by ferry in half an hour. Swimming, unfortunately, wasn’t recommended, both for the distance—about the same distance as the English Channel between Calais and Dover—and the many sharks infesting the Gulf of Thailand, where both islands were located.

“I’ll find a boat,” Chase assured her when she reminded him of this fact. “And there’s always Kimmy. She’ll keep an eye on you, too.”

Kimmy was their ally in this, their most peculiar adventure yet, or at least the most exotic.

“Time to go!” Clint called out, checking his watch.

“Stay safe, babe,” said Chase as he planted a kiss on her lips.

“You, too, and don’t let the seductresses bite,” she added for good measure.

He grinned. “Don’t worry. I only have eyes for you…” he sang, out of tune as usual. It still managed to put a smile on her face, and then the men were led out by one of Clint’s people, and the women by Kimmy, the men filing into a black van and the women into a white one, and then they were off…

“How come we’re coming with you?” asked Dooley from his cage, sat at her feet. “I mean, Max and I are both males, so shouldn’t we be going to the male island with Chase?”

“Shut up, Dooley,” said Max. “Just when we’ve managed to convince everyone we’re females.”

Dooley didn’t get the joke at first, but when he did, he laughed heartily.

The van took them to the airport, where they were scheduled to take another flight, which would take them to the island in a little over an hour. And as they sat a little nervously, the van navigating the distance from the hotel to the airport, silence reigned supreme. Odelia decided to break the ice. “So how much fun is this, huh?” she said.

In response, only Tina managed to crack a feeble smile.

Kimmy decided to join Odelia’s efforts to lighten the mood, and said, “How are you guys doing? Are you excited?”

Nods and murmured words of assent were her response.

“You’re going to love the resort we’ve booked,” Kimmy said. “The accommodations are amazing. This year they’ve added a jacuzzi, and the pool is to die for. And of course there’s the bar…” She wiggled her eyebrows meaningfully.

“Oh, yeah,” said the tan blonde, whose name, Odelia had learned, was Jackie. “I could murder for a gin and tonic right now.”

“I could use a drink myself, to be honest,” said Tina, surprising Odelia.

“I’ll settle for a rum and coke,” said Joanna with a nervous titter.

All eyes turned to Odelia. “What’s your poison, Odelia?” asked Jackie.

“Um…” She couldn’t very well confess that she wasn’t much of a drinker. So instead she said, “Tequila. Always hits the spot.”

Cheers rang out. Subdued, still, but a sign of things to come.

“This is going to be one big party!” Jackie cried.

Chapter 15

If I thought traveling from New York to Bangkok had been tough, the small plane we were on now was ten times worse. It shook and trembled and kept going up and down and left and right for some reason, and all the while I thought this was it—the end was nigh!

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Dooley intimated from his cage, which was located right next to mine at Odelia’s feet.

“Me too, buddy,” I said, as I retched slightly. All this traveling was well and good, but it wasn’t doing a lot for my equanimity.

“This isn’t the life for me,” Dooley added with a groan. “I’m a homebody, Max, not Indiana Jones or Lara Croft. Maybe Odelia should consider getting a dog and bringing him on her travels halfway across the world.”

He was right. Travel simply does not agree with us. Still, as far as I could ascertain, we were almost there, and not a minute too soon.

“Next time I’m not coming,” Dooley continued his lament. “She can bring Harriet and Brutus. They would have loved it.”

“Not Brutus,” I corrected him. “I think he was more than happy to be left behind. It’s Harriet who’s the eager one. She loves this Passion Island business and would like nothing more than to be part of the show.”

“Well, she can have her show,” said Dooley, in a rare case of moodiness and rebellion.

“We’re almost there,” I assured him. “And I’m sure once we arrive at destination’s end, things will greatly improve. Exclusive five-star beach resort and all of that stuff.”

“You’re forgetting one thing, Max.”

“What?”

“This is only the first part of the trip. We still have to get home again, which means another trip by plane, plane and plane.”

And then he really did retch, depositing a nice little puddle of puke right in front of his cage. And since seeing puke always makes me want to puke, too, I quickly followed suit and deposited my neat little puddle right next to his.

“Oh, dear,” said Odelia as she saw the result of our mastication on the floor. She gave us a look of commiseration. “You’re really not well, are you, fellas?”

“Not well,” Dooley said in shaky tones.

“Not well at all,” I echoed, equally shaky. My limbs were quaking, and my stomach was twitching.

“I think I’m going to die, Odelia,” said Dooley. “Please take my body back to the States and bury me in the garden underneath the rose bushes.”

“Yeah, don’t give us one of those burials at sea,” I pleaded. “I wouldn’t like to be dumped into the seething seas tucked into a plastic bag.”

“I don’t want to be tucked into a plastic bag and chucked into the sea either!” Dooley cried.

Odelia smiled. “You’re not going to die. You’re a little sick right now, but as soon as we land you’ll feel right as rain again.”

“You’re simply saying that so we won’t worry,” I said.

“Yeah, you’re simply saying that so we won’t complain when they shove us into a plastic bag and chuck us into the sea!” Dooley cried.

“I probably should have given you something against motion sickness,” said Odelia.

Behind her, suddenly a voice spoke. “Are you actually talking to your cats?” The voice was laced with a healthy dose of irony, but still Odelia sat up with a start.

“They’re not feeling well,” she explained to the woman. She was blond and tan and giving both me and Dooley a hard look. “Cats don’t take well to travel.”

“You should have gotten a dog,” said the woman as she gave us a supercilious look. “Dogs are a lot more fun than cats. Cats are stupid, spiteful creatures. My mom had a cat. It scratched me so hard on my butt once you can still see the scar.” And to prove she wasn’t lying, she showed her left buttock, where indeed a tiny scar was visible. I wondered what she must have done to provoke such an attack in that particular place. Probably she’d taken a seat on her mother’s cat by accident, at which point the creature quite naturally returned the favor by digging its claws into her behind.

Odelia clenched her jaw. She hates it when people talk smack about her cats. She refrained from lashing out, though, mostly because she was on assignment, and the first rule for an investigative reporter undercover on a case: don’t antagonize your potential sources of information.

“So how did you end up joining this madhouse?” asked the woman.

“My boyfriend and I are getting married in a couple of months, and we decided to test our relationship before taking the plunge,” Odelia explained. “How about you, Jackie?”

Jackie shrugged, and checked her overly long fingernails. “Money, of course. If we win this thing we’ll have a nice little nest egg.”

“Or a down payment to buy your own place,” Odelia suggested.

Jackie laughed. “Don’t you worry. We got that covered. Gary owns his own construction company. The first thing he did when we started going out was select a nice plot of land and show it to me. That’s when I knew he was the one. Finally a guy who’s got his priorities straight. He’s already laid the foundations, and by the time we walk down the aisle our dream house will be ready for us to move in.”

“Well, I’d say I hope you win, but since I hope to win myself…”

“I’ve seen the competition and frankly I don’t think you stand a chance, sweetheart,” said Jackie with a shrug. “That boyfriend of yours, and the others? They’re all going down.”

“And what makes you think Gary will be immune to the charms of those seductresses?”

“Because if he cheats on me, I’ll kill him,” said the woman, and gave Odelia a fine smile.

Next to me, Dooley gulped, and this time it wasn’t from the motion of the plane. Jackie clearly was a force to be reckoned with, and I wasn’t entirely sure I liked her.

Chapter 16

The lodgings at the Cha Cha Resort & Residences were excellent. As Odelia inspected the little villa she’d been awarded, it was obvious the production company had spared no expense to make the candidates feel at home. The chalet was airy and bright, with a spacious bedroom and bathroom, and a salon where she could play hostess to the other candidates or… one of the seducers—or all of the above, if it pleased her.

She had absolutely no intention of doing any such thing, but she still played the game. So when Clint himself dropped by for a visit, and asked her if everything was to her satisfaction, she giggled and asked when she’d be introduced to the six seducers.

Clint grinned and said, “Now that’s the spirit, young lady. You’ll get to meet our seducers tonight for the first time, and rest assured you will not be disappointed.”

“Thanks, Mr. Bunda,” she said demurely, as befitting the profile Kimmy had drawn up for her: the not-too-clever innocent young woman, eager to expand her horizons.

“Just call me Clint,” said the producer with a lascivious twinkle in his eye. Odelia had the impression he wouldn’t mind playing the seducer himself, if given the chance. “So let’s go over those rules again,” he said, turning serious. “No cell phones, no contact whatsoever with the other island, and participation in all the group activities as well as the dates we set up for you. Whatever you do in the privacy of your own villa, of course, is entirely up to you.” He gave her a wink. “Though we will be watching.”

She glanced around the spacious living area. “You have cameras in here, too?”

“Honey, we have cameras everywhere, but don’t let that bother you. In fact pretend they’re not even there. We always edit out the stuff that would be too embarrassing, so you just go ahead and have fun—and let us create a great show for the people back home.”

And with these words, he left her to unpack.

“What a circus,” said Max as he padded in from the bedroom. “And where are those cameras? I don’t see them.”

“That’s the whole idea,” said Odelia. “To make the contestants forget about them, and make absolute fools of themselves so ‘the people back home’ can have their voyeuristic fun.” She darted a glance in the direction of the bathroom. “I wonder if they put cameras in the bathroom, too.”

“Probably,” said Max. “So you better shower in your bathing suit from now on. Unless you want the world to see you in your birthday suit.”

“Oh, heck,” said Odelia. “I’m starting to wonder why I ever said yes to this thing.”

“Do you think there are bugs in here?” asked Dooley, also joining them. He’d subjected the villa to a thorough inspection, and came to deliver his field report.

“Oh, yes,” said Max. “Plenty of bugs, and not the tiny, benign ones either. I think we can expect a veritable plethora of fauna and flora from now on.”

Dooley shivered. “I don’t like bugs, Max. They scare me. Especially the poisonous ones.”

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’m pretty sure there’s plenty of bug spray lying around. They wouldn’t want their contestants to get eaten alive before they have the chance to be seduced by one of the bigger bugs called seducers.”

Odelia laughed. “I’m glad they let me bring you guys along,” she said. “I would have felt pretty lonely without my two babes.”

“I wonder what Harriet and Brutus are up to right now,” said Dooley as he hopped up onto the couch and made himself comfortable. “Harriet really wanted to come.”

“She’ll be fine,” Max assured him. “She’ll be able to watch the show from the comfort and safety of her own home while we brave the elements to create the show.”

“I hope those cameras aren’t equipped with sound,” Dooley said after a pause, as he darted anxious glances around the room. “Otherwise they’ll wonder why one of the contestants keeps talking to her cats.”

Odelia gave him a startled look. “You’re right,” she said. “We better watch out what we say.”

“Isn’t there somewhere we can speak freely?” asked Max. “A place where they haven’t installed cameras?”

“There is a place,” said Odelia. “Kimmy told me there’s some sort of shack where the gardeners store their gear. She assured me it hasn’t been wired.”

“So let’s meet there when we have something important to share,” Max suggested.

Odelia nodded. It was also where Kimmy had told her she could safely talk to Chase. Every morning at dawn she and Chase had arranged to touch base and go over the events of the day. She was already looking forward to it. The only problem was that the rest of the resort was being watched, so she’d have to tread carefully in order to get to the shack and back without creating suspicion.

Just then, Kimmy entered and gave her a bracing smile. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

Odelia glanced around. “I feel as if I’ve entered a maximum-security prison.”

Kimmy’s smile widened. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “Try to relax and have some fun. Most candidates who join Passion Island have a great time on the island.” Then, as she lowered her voice to a whisper, she added, “And keep your eyes peeled at all times.”

And with this admonition, the young assistant producer left the villa.

Chapter 17

The villa where we’d arrived, our new home away from home, was very nice. It wasn’t actually home, of course. And soon I started feeling a little anxious. It took Dooley to make me realize why that was.

“I miss our friends, Max,” he said as we traversed the path that led from Odelia’s villa to the main compound. “I miss Harriet and Brutus and Kingman and Shanille and I even miss Clarice.”

“I miss them too,” I told him. Then again, we’d agreed to come on this trip with Odelia, and it was important we made the best of it.

The heart of the resort consisted of a five-star restaurant where the candidates ate, a plaza with a bar, a spa, a swimming pool and second restaurant for the production crew, which ate their meals separately from the contestants. The plaza was the hub of the resort nightlife, where the seducers worked their magic to accomplish their mission.

Past the compound a path led down to the beach, and that’s where we found Odelia, seated on a flat rock, gazing out across the sea at the setting sun. It was a beautiful scene, and as Dooley and I admired the picture-postcard setting, suddenly a sound like a buffalo stomping reached our ears, and as we both jerked up in anxious anticipation, a heavyset man came crashing through the brush. He sported a wispy beard, sunglasses perched on his nose, camera hoisted on his shoulder, and was dressed in a loud flowery shirt and mauve boxers. “Hey, Odelia,” he said, panting. “Stay right where you are!”

Odelia, who was as startled as we were by this interruption, blinked a couple times.

“Just act as if I’m not here!” said the cameraman, which was a little hard to accomplish. “Beautiful,” he murmured as he trained his camera on Odelia. “Wonderful. Amazing. Now toss your hair across your shoulders, honey. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the ticket, sweetie. Now give me one of those sultry looks… Love the blush! Great look.”

It wasn’t a blush, exactly, but more a sign of impending doom. Doom for the cameraman, though he didn’t know it yet.

“Could you lose the top, sweetheart?”

Odelia gritted her teeth then snapped, “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Um… my job?” said the guy, surprised by this retort.

“Let’s make one thing perfectly clear,” said Odelia. “I’m not losing my top, and I’m not going to try and look sexy for your damn camera. I’m not a pinup, so get lost.”

“But—“

“Get lost!”

With a sheepish look on his face, the cameraman heeded her words and got lost.

“What’s a pinup, Max?” asked Dooley. “And why did that man want Odelia to get undressed?”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, Dooley,” I said. “The man was confused.”

“You mean he mistook Odelia for someone else?”

“Exactly,” I said. “He probably thought Odelia was his girlfriend and wanted her to pose for him.”

“What a strange man,” said Dooley, “that he doesn’t even remember what his own girlfriend looks like.”

“Some men are like that,” I said. “They forget what their girlfriend looks like and start hitting on some other girl. It happens all the time.” Especially on Passion Island, I could have added, but didn’t. I was starting to see that this trip wasn’t just dangerous for Odelia’s well-being, but for Dooley’s innocence, too, and was going to prove a challenge for my capacity to keep explaining away the strange happenings that took place there.

I thought it better to leave Odelia to enjoy these precious few moments of peace and quiet, so Dooley and I continued our perambulation. There were more villas spread out across the resort, not just for the contestants but also, I imagined, for the seducers, which was probably convenient. That way they could sneak into a contestant’s chalet and be home before sunup. The production crew, meanwhile, stayed at a large villa on the other side of the resort, and since we weren’t there to admire the view but to solve the mystery of the vanishing candidates, we decided to head on over and stake out the place.

The villa was built in hacienda style, with a wraparound porch and brightly colored window shutters. We entered the house via the front door, which was open, and found that the place was buzzing with activity. I saw the camera guy who’d accosted Odelia lament his fate to his comrades in a room off the main lobby, and watched as Clint Bunda stalked across the floor, barking orders into his cell phone. At least he was allowed to keep his phone, which didn’t seem entirely fair, I thought.

I even saw Kimmy, seated in an adjacent room at a desk, bent over her laptop and typing away.

“So many people,” said Dooley as we sat in a quiet corner and surveyed the activity.

“It takes a lot of people to create a big show like this,” I said. “People you don’t see since they all work behind the scenes.”

“So how are we going to find out who’s making these women disappear?” he asked.

It was an excellent question. There were easily dozens of people, holed up in the different rooms that made up the ground floor, which had been turned into offices. The room where Kimmy sat working, surrounded by others also pecking away on their laptops, had a sign that indicated this was normally the luggage room. And the room where the camera crew sat reposing was the massage parlor, though of massage activities there was to date no trace.

“Let’s take a closer look,” I suggested, and we moved into the room where the camera people were all gathered. The one who’d approached Odelia was still talking, and he didn’t have a lot of complimentary things to say about our beloved human.

“She told me to get lost—can you believe it? I was just doing my job and she told me off! The nerve of the woman.”

“Pretty little blonde, though, isn’t she, our Miss Poole?” said another guy of similar dimensions, who sat fiddling with his camera. “By far the prettiest of this new crop.”

“Then you haven’t seen Jackie,” said a third. “Just what the doctor ordered. Oo-wee!”

Somehow I had the feeling I wasn’t going to learn much from listening to these men commenting on Odelia and the other women like bumblebees on a meadow of particularly nectar-filled flowers, so I told Dooley I’d heard enough and we walked out.

“They do seem to like Odelia a lot, don’t they?” Dooley said.

“Yeah, I guess they do,” I agreed, though I wasn’t particularly partial to the kind of men who salivated over my human like a restaurant visitor over a juicy piece of steak.

We moved into the next room, but there wasn’t much information to be gleaned there either. Kimmy, along with a horde of writers and fellow assistant producers, kept pecking away at their laptops in utmost concentration, so that was a bust, too.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I suggested. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and learn something.”

We moved up the stairs and arrived on the landing, several doors leading off into the crew members’ respective rooms. The door to one room was ajar, and since I heard voices from inside, I decided to investigate further. No one ever pays attention to cats, which is why our association with Odelia has been so successful. We’re the perfect spies.

Inside the room we found Clint, seated on the bed and still talking a mile a minute into his phone. So we took a seat near the door and listened to what he had to say.

“I don’t care, Susan! It’s my way or the highway, haven’t I made that perfectly clear?” He listened for a moment, and I could hear a woman’s voice holding up her end of the conversation. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it. Because I don’t want to talk about it!”

There was more repartee, and I could see that Clint was getting more and more red in the face as the conversation dragged on.

“I think he’s going to have an aneurysm, Max,” said Dooley, noticing the same thing.

“I think so, too,” I agreed, and was already eyeing the door in case we needed to race out to fetch Odelia and a doctor.

“Look, it’s got nothing to do with me. If they decide to vanish from the face of the earth that’s their business. How the hell would I know where they’ve gone off to! It’s got nothing to do with me, I’m telling you!”

I had the impression he was talking about the missing women, so I pricked up my ears. Unfortunately, the conversation quickly wound down after that, and so before Clint discovered he was no longer alone, Dooley and I tip-toed from the room again.

Out in the corridor, Dooley said, “I think he was talking about the missing women, Max.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Does that mean he doesn’t know where they are?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I think we can put Clint’s name on our list of suspects.”

Though why the show’s producer would kidnap his own contestants was beyond me.

Chapter 18

That night, the first big event of the season had been announced and was to take place in the plaza, the central meeting place, and not coincidentally where the bar was located. Before Odelia had left for Thailand she’d watched a couple of episodes of the show’s previous season, conveniently taped by her grandmother, and it struck her that a lot of the ‘action’ appeared to take place in that very same plaza.

So it was with a slight sense of trepidation that she slid into the little black dress she’d selected for the occasion, slipped her feet into a pair of heels, and checked her reflection in the mirror. She’d applied minimal makeup, and her hair was a little frizzy, but she figured she’d be able to get away with it. After all, she hadn’t been cast as a seductress but as one half of a regular couple, and she looked about as regular as could be.

As she left the villa, she almost bumped into Tina, who was dressed to the nines, and looked absolutely terrified. “I’ve already downed two martinis and I still feel like I’m going to die,” the homely brunette confessed.

“It’ll be fine,” Odelia said, though she felt seriously nervous herself.

“It’s not the seducers I’m worried about so much as all those cameras. And the idea that millions of people will be watching my every move, and listening to every single thing I say. Can you believe a guy with a camera came into my bedroom just now, filming me? I kicked him out, of course.” She shook her head. “The gall of these people. Just because we signed up for their show they think they can do anything.”

“I had to get rid of a cameraman myself,” Odelia said. “Kept bugging me about removing my top.”

“We’re candidates, not strippers,” said Tina as she teetered on her high heels.

They passed a villa and a loud voice arrested their progress. “Hey, wait up!” The voice belonged to Jackie, and she looked absolutely gorgeous in a skintight red dress that showcased a sizable bust and a pair of long tan legs. She came tripping up, a look of excitement on her face. “I can’t believe the show is about to start and we’re in it!” she cried. “Isn’t that just amazeballs! Eeeek!”

“Eeeek!” Tina echoed, though it was clear her heart wasn’t really in it.

“Eeeeek!” said Odelia without much enthusiasm.

The fourth participant came walking out of her villa and smiled when she saw the three others waiting for her on the path.

“So this is it, huh?” she said. Joanna was dressed in a simple white linen dress, and looked the most normal of the foursome. Like Odelia, she hadn’t put on a lot of makeup, and it was obvious the pretty redhead wasn’t exactly the party girl. She heaved a little sigh. “Is it just me or do you guys just want this whole thing to be over?”

“It’s just you!” said Jackie, and squealed again. And as she slipped her arm through Tina’s, and started up the path, Odelia and Joanna fell back.

“You don’t seem like the Passion Island type either,” said Joanna. “Are you sure you’re in the right place?” She laughed deferentially. “I know I’ve had my doubts myself.”

Odelia experienced a pang of guilt for lying to these women. Still, she had to stick to her story. She couldn’t very well come out and tell Joanna she was there in an official capacity. “I don’t really care about the whole show element either,” she confessed, “but the prize money could really change my life. In my line of work 50.000 dollars is a lot of money. I’d have to work my whole life to raise that kind of cash.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a reporter for a small-town newspaper on Long Island. Lots of local events. You know the kind. Wedding anniversaries, library readings, a farmer’s chickens organizing the great escape. Not exactly Pulitzer-Prize-winning material. I love it, though.”

“I thought you were a vet or something,” said Joanna. “Because of the cats.”

“Oh, no. Though it’s true that I love my two fur-babies.”

“They are pretty cute,” said Joanna with a smile.

“How about you? What do you do?”

“I’m an accountant, and so is my Arthur. In fact that’s how we met. My parents are accountants, too. They run their own company, and Arthur was their first hire, so we ended up spending a lot of time together crunching numbers, and chatting around the water cooler. And one thing led to another and here we are.” She smiled. “Friends signed us up for Passion Island. They figured we could use a little excitement in our lives.”

“Oh, they did, did they?”

“Why is it that people always think accountants are boring?” asked Joanna, a tiny frown slicing her brow.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Odelia said with a smile. She liked Joanna. She was nice. “So do you think Arthur will be able to resist the charms of those seductresses?”

“Oh, sure. Arthur adores me. He told me we’d easily win this thing.”

They’d arrived at the plaza, and were greeted by a camera crew, bright lights competing with the natural light still being dispensed by a sun slowly sinking behind the horizon.

“Welcome, ladies!” Clint said, a toothy grin on his face. “Let me introduce you to your host: Francine Richter!”

Gasps of excited anticipation escaped four throats, even Odelia’s. Francine Richter, the famous show host, looked absolutely gorgeous. She was pushing fifty, but didn’t look a day over thirty-five. Not a hair of her platinum coiffure was out of place, her slender frame clad in a bright yellow dress was stunning, and her famous features were arranged in an appropriately welcoming smile.

“Hello, ladies,” she said in that deep voice instantly recognizable to viewers around the country. “So how are you feeling today? Are you excited to be part of Passion Island?”

“You bet!” Jackie cried, and the other three women all concurred, though in slightly less exuberant tones, due to being awestruck by the presence of network royalty.

And as Clint melted into the background, Francine expertly took control of the interview. For a couple of minutes she chatted easily and brightly with the four contestants, eliciting a few sound bites about their background and motivation to be on the show, and then it was time for the moment they’d all been waiting for: the introduction of the seducers.

Odelia swallowed. She wasn’t there for the show, really, but she still couldn’t help but be swept up in the excitement of the moment. She’d never been on TV before, and certainly never on a popular reality show.

Then, as music blasted from the speakers, lights flashed, and the smoke machine worked overtime, six men came strutting onto the dance floor and performed an exhilarating dance routine. They looked like the lineup of a Chippendales show, or that movie with Channing Tatum: steely-eyed looks, chiseled faces, granite jaw lines, gleaming rock-hard pecs, and bulging muscles, these men took their fitness routines seriously!

“Oh, my,” Joanna said next to Odelia, as a gasp escaped Tina, and Jackie screamed her head off with excitement.

Chapter 19

“Max?”

“Mh?”

“Why are those men so shiny?”

“Oil,” I said curtly. I would have said more, but just like everyone present I was transfixed by the strange spectacle of six grown men gyrating not twenty feet from where I was sitting, dressed like Tarzan and throwing glances that can only be described as lascivious at the four young ladies for whom this spectacle was clearly intended.

“Oil?”

“Oil.”

“But why, Max? Why are they dressed in oil and not much else?”

“I think their costume—or lack thereof—is designed to impress, Dooley.” And judging from the rapturous expressions on the faces of their audience it was clear their very particular dress code had hit its mark. Even Odelia looked as if she’d bitten down on a delicious piece of yummy chocolate and the taste had exploded across her palate.

“Why is Odelia’s mouth hanging open, Max?” Dooley continued his barrage of tough questions.

His powers of observation were excellent, though. In fact he was probably understating things, as our human’s jaw was practically on the floor now.

“She’s probably hot,” I said. It was pretty hot out, even though the sun was setting.

“I don’t think Chase is going to like this,” said Dooley. “I don’t think he’s going to like it that she’s looking at those men like that.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “She’s probably surprised, that’s all.” After all, it isn’t every day that all of a sudden, and quite out of the blue, six grown men of the Adonis type are suddenly performing a routine that’s usually reserved for the kind of clubs I’m sure Odelia doesn’t lend her patronage. “Besides,” I added. “It’s not as if Chase can see her. He’s on a completely different island, with no way of knowing what his fiancée is up to.”

Then my eyes shifted to the row of cameras filming every single moment of the sordid little scene and I gulped a little. Oops.

One island over, Chase Kingsley was not having a good time. If he’d hoped going undercover in the belly of the Passion Island beast would give him a wealth of clues as to the dark underpinnings of the reality show, and lead him to unmask the evil conspiracy at its heart, that hope had yet to be borne out.

So far all he’d done was chat with three rather obnoxious young men, whose only intention apparently was to have fun with as many women as possible before tying the knot with their ones and only, and watch those same men down copious amounts of alcohol to ‘get in the mood.’

He hoped Odelia was having better luck, because as far as he was concerned this operation so far was a bust.

He was seated at the bar, waiting for the moment of the big reveal—the introduction of the six seductresses, whose unenviable task it was to break up four happy couples.

It all sounded pretty immoral as far as Chase was concerned, and his low opinion of the show’s producer, Clint Bunda, was hitting new lows as he listened to the boasts and brags of his three co-contestants.

To Chase, relationships were a sacred bond between a man and a woman, and these Passion Island shenanigans were seriously getting on his nerves. To the extent he’d had to suppress a powerful urge to put these men in their place for being so cavalier.

“It’s happening!” suddenly declared Nick, a stringy young man whose hair hadn’t survived an attack of attrition. His betrothed was a girl named Tina, and according to his drunken braggadocio they’d made a secret arrangement that he could bed any seductress he wanted, as a way of sowing his wild oats one last time before entering a state of wedded bliss.

Chase had his doubts about this so-called arrangement, but hadn’t given vent to his skepticism. He didn’t want to blow his cover by going overboard on the heavy-handedness. He was, after all, one of the boys, though right now he felt more like an adult surrounded by a couple of rambunctious teenagers.

On the dance floor, the spotlights were showing off their stroboscopic prowess as four ladies sashayed onto the scene, all dressed in tiny thongs and even tinier string bikinis. All four were extremely tan, thin and showcasing the kind of physique only attainable with the assistance of a skilled plastic surgeon, personal trainer and stylist. To Chase’s dismay, they reminded him of life-sized Barbie dolls. Not exactly his dream dates, though judging from the uproarious grunts and howls from his co-islanders, they couldn’t have disagreed more.

And as they produced the kind of animal sounds befitting this jungle environment, the lanky cop expelled a tired groan.

“Hey, why are there only four?” asked Arthur suddenly.

Chase narrowed his eyes. The accountant was right. Six seductresses had been advertised, but only four were stalking across the platform.

“Oh, there they are,” said Nick.

And, much to Chase’s surprise, suddenly two more seductresses materialized—and they looked very familiar indeed.

“What the…” one of the men muttered.

Four jaws drooped, Chase’s included, as two mature ladies appeared. One was dressed in a pink tracksuit, and the other in a tiger-print catsuit.

They were Grandma Muffin and Scarlett Canyon.

Chapter 20

“I think we’re on the wrong island, sweetums.”

“Shush, Brutus,” said Harriet.

“No, but I mean it. We’re on the men’s island. We were supposed to be on the women’s island.”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“But it does, sugar plum. The women’s island is where it’s at. That’s where the investigation is taking place.”

“I’m going to be on camera whether they like it or not,” said Harriet, clearly not paying attention to a word her mate had said.

She had that resolute look in her eyes that Brutus knew all too well. It often spelled trouble, and already he was trying to anticipate Harriet’s next move so he could talk her out of it, but this time she was too quick, even for one as closely familiar with her wiles as he was.

Before he could stop her, she was already stalking off in the direction of the plaza.

“Harriet!” he called out, but the music pounding from the speakers was so loud even her fine feline sense of hearing couldn’t have picked up his cry of despair.

He watched helplessly as Harriet joined the lineup of six women and started a series of gyrations that could easily compete with those of the dancing Barbies.

Brutus shook his head in frustration. He knew how keen Harriet was to be part of Passion Island, but this was too much. If she kept this up she’d be booted off the island!

The men seated at the bar were all whooping and hollering, except Chase, who looked a little green around the gills.

It’s one thing to have to watch four would-be strippers, but another to see your future grandmother-in-law strutting her stuff like a seasoned Jezebel, along with her newly-found best friend, a seventy-year-old woman having squeezed her pneumatic frame into a much-too-tight leopard-skin excuse for a garment.

The four other women kept darting curious glances at Scarlett, probably wondering if that’s what they’d look like in another forty or fifty years, but Scarlett didn’t appear bothered. Quite the opposite. While the other women strutted their stuff in situ, she decided to venture out into the world and now approached the candidates, quickly curling herself around a large and portly one, much to the latter’s obvious delight.

Scarlett Canyon might have celebrated her seventh decade on this planet, but with all the work she’d had done she easily looked decades younger. And of course the men had been drinking steadily all evening, and the booze must have affected their eyesight.

Brutus eyed the spectacle of four Barbie wannabes, one Persian cat and one septuagenarian dressed like Estelle Getty with a jaundiced eye.

Things could only get better from this point onward. Couldn’t they?

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chase hissed.

“Oh, come off your high horse, Mr. Cop,” said Gran, waving away his objections. “Now what does a girl have to do to get a drink around here? Preferably one of them umbrella ones.”

They were seated at the bar, the show having ended when one of the producers had pulled the plug on the sound system and ordered the cameras to stop rolling. He’d looked on the verge of having a heart attack and had screamed something that sounded a lot like ‘Get rid of that darn cat!’

“You’re not seriously considering sticking around, are you?” Chase asked, incredulous.

“Of course I’m sticking around! I didn’t come all this way to get kicked off this island so soon.” She tilted her chin. “I have every right to be here, same as you.”

Chase couldn’t believe his ears. “But you’re a cheat!”

Gran had heard through the grapevine that two of the seductresses had had to drop out at the last minute and had sent in her and Scarlett’s applications to be their replacements. Only they hadn’t mentioned their ages, and they’d used pictures from a stock photo website. And since time was of the essence, they’d been quickly sent the go-ahead. Only when they’d suddenly appeared in the lineup had the production team realized that the two ladies they’d figured were part of the kitchen staff were in fact their much-sought-after new replacement seductresses.

“Look, I told that idiot that if he dares kick us off the island I’m going to sue him for ageism. It’s time that senior citizens get their due. It’s not fair that only the young get to have fun. He quickly backed down after that.” She smacked her lips as she bellowed, “Waiter! One of ‘em umbrella drinks for me! Yeah, the fruity ones!”

“You’re going to ruin this whole operation,” Chase said, as he rubbed his face.

“Nothing of the kind. I’m going to save your operation. You didn’t think this through, Chase. You and Odelia infiltrated the show as fake candidates—“

“Not so loud!” Chase hissed.

“But who’s infiltrating the seductresses, huh?” She thumped her chest. “Me!”

“Oh, God…” Chase muttered.

“You didn’t think, sonny boy! Where do you think the danger is coming from? Exactly those wily seductresses. They’re the ones setting up this whole kidnapping scheme. Listen, I’ve got it all figured out. The seductresses seduce the men, right?”

“Mh.”

“And of course they want to keep them once the show is over, cause these are some pretty fine specimens. Not the kind of guys who normally go for the stripper type, right?”

“Are you going somewhere with this?”

“Just listen! So once the show is over, and the cameras are gone, and the free booze, and the sun and the beach and the rest, these men of course land back in reality with a thud. Back to work on Monday. Back to their regular lives, with their regular fiancées.”

“If they’ll still have them,” Chase muttered.

“Of course they will. This is just one long stag party. But these women don’t want it to be over. They want to hook these men once and for all. So how to work it? By getting rid of the competition. They whack the future wives, step into their roles and bingo! A great life awaits. With a pretty boring husband, granted, but that’s why adultery was invented.”

“You’re forgetting one thing.”

“I doubt it.”

“The women are on the other island.”

“So? They don’t get abducted straightaway, do they? These women must have accomplices waiting until the candidates return to the States, and nab them first chance they get. Now where’s that drink? Hey, waiter! I can see what you’re doing, you sneaky little twerp! You’re serving the bimbos first! Wanna get sued for ageism? Cause I’ll do it! Thanks,” she added, and took a satisfied sip from her umbrella drink. “Aaah,” she said, closing her eyes. “Now that hits the spot.”

Chapter 21

That night, a first campfire was being held on both islands. As Kimmy had explained, the campfire was when the candidates were all gathered around a fire and shown footage of what their other halves were up to on the other island. It was usually a moment fraught with a certain measure of dread, as Clint liked to throw in a couple of grenades in the form of infidelities engaged in by the candidates and watch the fallout.

Odelia, as she took a seat, glanced at her fellow candidates. Jackie looked extremely jolly, as her blood was now presumably one hundred percent pure alcohol after having knocked back more G&T’s than probably was good for her. Tina was chewing her bottom lip, looking anxious, and Joanna was yawning, indicating it was way past her bedtime.

After the show had wound down, the six Chippendale wannabes had mingled with the contestants at the bar, and immediately one of them had hit on Odelia. She’d made it clear from the outset that she wasn’t interested, though, earning her a wounded look from the male model. The moment he’d vacated his seat another one had taken his place, and this one hadn’t taken no for an answer, and had spent the rest of the evening trying to break down her defenses, which of course was what he was being paid to do.

He wasn’t an unpleasant guy, though, so she’d endured his company, but had steered the conversation resolutely away from the more romantic topics.

Jackie, meanwhile, hadn’t been as reticent as Odelia, and had stuck so close to two of the seducers she could have described their physique with her eyes closed. Tina and Joanna had also spent the evening being wooed, though Odelia doubted with much luck.

Francine Richter joined them at the campfire, which was actually a black metal terrace heater. She was clutching an iPad, a look of significance in her eyes.

For Passion Island aficionados this was the highlight of the show.

“So this is it, ladies,” said the show host. “Are you ready for the moment of truth?”

“Please tell me nothing happened,” said Tina, having transferred her chewing activities from her lip to her fingernails.

“You’ll soon find out,” said Francine ominously, and swiped the iPad with a long-nailed finger.

The screen flickered to life and footage of a similar nature to what had happened on Koh Samui appeared: over on Koh Phangan the four candidates were seated at the bar, Chase amongst them, and then the seductresses arrived and the party started.

Odelia’s shocked gasp echoed the gasps of the other three contestants when Gran and Scarlett suddenly appeared in the lineup!

“What’s this?” asked Jackie. “Is this a joke?”

“Um, in the spirit of diversification we’ve decided to allow women of all ages to compete for the candidates’ attention,” Francine said, clearly lying through her teeth.

Odelia had no idea how Gran had pulled this off, but obviously she had!

“Nick likes older women,” Tina said miserably. “In fact he loves them.”

Odelia doubted whether even Nick would fall for the charms of Gran or Scarlett, but she rubbed Tina’s back consolingly. The latter gave her a watery smile in return, then fixed her eyes on the screen again for signs of her future husband’s infidelity.

“What’s that cat doing there?” asked Joanna.

And she was right: a cat was prancing around in front of the line of seductresses. And it was a cat Odelia knew all too well. It was Harriet!

“Passion Island is really going down,” said Jackie a little angrily. “First those two old biddies and now a cat. If I’d known…”

Her words stuck in her throat as her boyfriend Gary came into view. The builder was busily examining the tonsils of one of the seductresses with his tongue, and only came up for air when the camera was so close to his face he could probably feel the static electricity.

“Bastard!” Jackie cried. “The cheating bastard!”

Her fiancé had the gall to grin at the camera like a boy caught with his fingers in the cookie jar, then simply picked up where he left off and went right back to his deep space exploration.

“I’ll get him for this,” Jackie growled, balling her fists. “I’ll teach him a lesson he’ll never forget!”

“Strictly speaking he hasn’t cheated on you, Jackie,” Francine said. “We don’t count kissing as cheating, remember. Only when we catch a candidate in bed with a seducer do we strike the gong.”

BOOOOING!

Suddenly the sound of a gong reverberated through the resort. Someone had been caught cheating, and judging from the pitch, it was one of the male contestants.

“Oh, he’s done it now,” said Jackie, getting up. Then she screamed at the top of her lungs, “I’ll get you for this, Gary Goulash!”

She stomped off in the direction of the plaza, presumably to drown her sorrow.

“It could be anyone,” said Joanna. “It could be my Arthur.”

“We’ll find out tomorrow,” Francine assured them. “At the next campfire.”

Which meant that all day tomorrow Joanna, Tina and Odelia would be held in suspense, not knowing whether their significant other had been unfaithful or not.

Though Odelia was pretty sure it couldn’t have been Chase. He wasn’t that kind of guy.

Or was he?

Spend long enough on Passion Island and anything could happen…

Chapter 22

The sound of the gong had also had a powerful effect on the other side of the stretch of water. The male contestants were all gathered around a similar campfire, only no Francine Richter was in evidence but George Foulard.

Like Miss Richter, Mr. Foulard was a veteran broadcaster, with a long pedigree as a show host. His gray hair gave him that respectful look, but it didn’t fool Chase. The man was as cunning and clever as they came, and as George looked up when the gong was struck, his eyes glistened mischievously.

“Oops,” he said. “Now who could that possibly be?”

It wasn’t hard to guess, as only one man had failed to show up for their campfire tryst, that man being Gary Goulash. As Gary had been playing tonsil hockey with one of the seductresses all evening, he probably felt it incumbent upon him to carry on his efforts in the privacy of his own bedroom, where Clint’s cameras had caught him in flagrante delicto, hence the sound of the gong.

It made for a welcome change, as the campfire hadn’t supplied its promised excitement: even though the women had engaged with the seducers, and had stood them a couple for drinks, no improprieties had ensued, and even Jackie, who’d seemed like the type of girl to whom fidelity was an elastic concept, had merely danced with but not kissed her prince for the night.

Chase had watched with a certain measure of disquiet how Odelia had chatted with not one but two seducers, and when one of the latter had placed his hand on her arm had felt his blood go to a boil. The sudden powerful urge to wipe the man’s smirk from his face by means of planting his fist in his mouth was so overpowering he was already calculating how long it would take him to swim to the other island, the talk of dangerous currents and undercurrents and even potential sharks having been wiped from his mind.

“Looks like we’re the lucky ones,” said Joanna’s fiancé, clapping Chase on the back. “Just look at my sweet baby girl. Doesn’t even flinch when that tattooed fool flexes his ridiculously pumped-up bicep in her face.”

Nick, too, looked relieved. “Tina would never go for a guy like that,” he said, indicating the screen. “She’s more into the intellectual type, like me.”

If Nick was an intellectual, Chase was RuPaul, but he merely smiled encouragingly and unflexed his fists. He wasn’t fully sanguine, though. He knew Clint would do whatever it took to make the women fall for their seducers. After all, that’s why Passion Island had become the network’s top-rated show.

“So… Gran is on the other island?” asked Dooley.

“Yes. And so is Scarlett Canyon,” I said. “And Harriet and Brutus.”

“But… why? And how?”

“I have absolutely no idea, Dooley. But I’m sure we’ll soon find out.”

Odelia had slept but fitfully, tossing and turning all night. Dooley and I, ensconced at the foot of the bed, as is our habit, had watched it with a worried eye. Apart from the fact that I don’t like it when Odelia moves around, afraid she’ll kick me in the snoot and send me flying off the bed, I hate to see my human troubled, and troubled she clearly was.

So far she hadn’t been able to chat with anyone from the production team, and it was exactly those people she needed to get close to if she was going to uncover what had happened to those other women.

Unfortunately Clint had instigated a rule that his staff refrain from getting too close to the candidates the moment the show started. In previous incarnations some of the cameramen hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to schmooze with some of the seductresses, and some of them had even hooked up. So this year the staff kept to their own villa, while the contestants stayed in their own little bubble with the seducers.

Morning had finally broken, and we watched as Odelia opened first one eye then the other.

“Wakey-wakey, sleepyhead,” I said.

She groaned and buried her face in her pillow. “I dreamt I was home,” she muttered.

“Usually people dream of being on a tropical island, all expenses paid,” I pointed out to her.

“Yeah, but those people haven’t been asked to try and unmask some abductor of women,” she replied, then turned and rubbed her eyes.

“I think you should really try to enjoy yourself more, Odelia,” said Dooley. “Maybe forget about the investigation for a couple of days and have some fun?”

“Yeah, you could go for a swim,” I suggested. “The beach looks particularly beautiful. And I heard that today you’re all going jet-skiing, so that should be a blast, right?”

Being dragged at a high rate of speed behind a boat, only two thin slices of styrofoam between you and the raging shark-infested waters of a deep sea didn’t sound like something I’d enjoy, but then humans are strange creatures. Some of them even like to climb mountains, which is something I thought only a certain species of goats enjoy.

“Jet skiing,” Odelia muttered as she dragged herself from the bed. “Great. Just what I need. More attempts by Mike to try and get into bed with me.”

“Why does Mike want to get into your bed?” asked Dooley. “Doesn’t he like his own bed?”

Odelia smiled. “I guess not,” she said, then slouched out of the room and into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later she’d put on running shoes, and was dressed in a T-shirt and running shorts and looked a lot less like something Dooley or myself had dragged in.

“Let’s go, you guys,” she said, performing a strange movement known as jumping jacks.

And then we were off, for our first run.

It was seven o’clock in the morning and already it was heating up quickly. And Odelia had only run five minutes before a stitch in my side halted my progress.

Cats are built for sprints, you see, not marathons.

“You go on ahead,” I said as I pressed a paw to my side. “I’ll get there in my own time!”

Dooley, too, was out of breath already.

And as we watched Odelia disappear around a bend in the dirt path, we both settled down in the shade of a nearby palm tree, languorously lying in the tall cool grass.

And just as I was catching my breath again, who’d pass us by but a long, thin man with a nasty scar slicing his brow and a slight limp!

Chapter 23

“Let’s go, Max!” Dooley cried, and was up and running before the fact that Scarface had once again entered the picture had thoroughly registered in my mind.

It’s easy to say ‘Let’s go’ when you’re as lissome as Dooley, but a lot harder to accomplish when you’re blessed with big bones like me. By the time I’d managed to break the hold gravity held over me and was going well, a certain amount of time had elapsed.

So for the reader of these chronicles it might be a good idea to reiterate the state of affairs: there was Odelia, running like a young foal, eager to have speech with her fiancé, then Scarface, no doubt filled with nefarious thoughts of snatching young maidens in the bloom of their lives and doing God knows what with them, then Dooley, running full out, conscious of a strong desire to protect said maiden, and finally, at a distance, your correspondent, huffing and puffing in the morning heat, and perspiring like a long-distance runner about to pass mile twenty and moving into the home stretch.

My paws were killing me, and so was my belly which, for some inexplicable reason, kept flopping around as I pottered on. And it was as I was starting to see red spots moving into my field of vision that I caught up with Dooley, who’d caught up with Scarface, who’d caught up with Odelia, who was now glancing around furtively and entered a sad-looking little shack built next to a tall fence lining the resort’s domain.

Scarface had ducked behind a bush of uncertain antecedents, and Dooley had ducked behind another bush, so as to spy on the spy. I joined my friend in his bush.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I plunked down heavily. I had the feeling I was melting, as sweat dripped from my paws, the only area, I might add, cats can sweat through, and I was glad for the reprieve. Even though I dislike Vena Aleman, our designated vet, I had a feeling she would have looked at me askance right now, for exerting myself to this extent.

“Scarface is talking into his phone,” said Dooley. “And Odelia just went into that shack over there.”

“We should be in that shack,” I said, gulping like a fish on dry land, “finding out what’s going on with Chase and the others.”

“But if we go into the shack we can’t keep an eye on Scarface,” Dooley pointed out, and I had to admit he was right.

“I think it’s the heat,” I said, waving a paw in front of my face. “It’s starting to affect my mental faculties.”

Scarface was indeed talking into his phone, then held it up in the manner perfected by all amateur smartphone users in the direction of the shack. He was clearly filming Odelia again, which seemed to be some kind of obsession with this horrible man.

“He must be the guy who keeps abducting women,” I said after I’d filled my lungs with some much-needed oxygen.

“Do you think he wants to kidnap Odelia?” asked Dooley, sounding shocked.

“I think so. He broke into her room and filmed her sleeping, then tried to access her laptop and tablet computer, and now he’s filming her again. The guy is obsessed with her, that much is obvious.”

“We have to warn her, Max. The moment she comes out of that shack he’ll grab her.”

“I don’t think so. He could have grabbed her before, and he didn’t. He’s waiting for something. Watching and waiting.”

Dooley shivered. “It’s very creepy.”

“It is,” I agreed. “Come on. Let’s circle around and enter that shack from the back.”

I’d recovered enough to perform this feat, and soon we found ourselves at the other side of the shack, and to our elation managed to sneak inside through a crack in the dilapidated structure’s side.

“It’s one theory,” Odelia was saying, “though it sounds very unlikely to me, if I’m honest.”

“Yeah, it sounds pretty unlikely to me, too,” we heard Chase respond when Odelia put the phone in speaker mode.

“Gran thinks the seductresses are behind the kidnappings,” Odelia explained for our sake. “So they can marry their husbands,” she added when we stared at her, a lack of comprehension apparently written all over our features. “So how are you holding up?” Odelia asked now.

“I’m fine,” said Chase. “But can I ask you a question? Who’s the guy you were chatting with last night?”

Odelia smiled. “Oh, that’s just Mike. He’s harmless.”

“Mike, huh,” said Chase, and his voice betrayed his displeasure.

Odelia giggled. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Of course I’m jealous! I have to sit here while Magic Mike tries his best moves on my girl.”

“I can handle Mike, don’t worry. And I have no intention of causing the gong to go off,” said Odelia, sounding amused. “How about you? You were having a great time with some of those seductresses.”

“If you mean your grandmother, who I spent half the night talking to at the bar, I think it’s safe to say you have nothing to worry about.”

“No, I don’t mean my grandmother. I mean that blond bimbo who couldn’t stop staring at your butt.”

“Oh, Dina. She’s all right. I told her I’m not interested and she accepts that. She’s a Passion Island veteran. This is her third time as a seductress. So I hoped to squeeze her for information.”

“Just make sure she doesn’t squeeze you back.”

I’d been trying to catch Odelia’s attention, but she was so wrapped up in her conversation about Mike and Dina that she was steadfastly ignoring me.

“There’s a guy out there spying on you!” I finally blurted out.

She frowned and looked down at me and Dooley. “What? Who?”

“Scarface,” said Dooley. “He followed you from the villa and he’s out there filming.”

Odelia gulped a little, then glanced out through the small windows. “Are you sure? I don’t—oh, crap, I see him. Chase, Scarface is back, and he’s followed me down here!”

“Try to sneak out the back,” was the cop’s advice, “then alert security and tell them some creep has been following you around.”

She disconnected and I pointed at the broken plank that had facilitated our access. She took a good grip and pulled hard. It easily broke off, and she repeated the procedure with its neighbor. Now she’d created a hole wide enough to slip through, which she did, followed by Dooley and me.

And as she crawled through the undergrowth, thoroughly ruining her nice T-shirt, I stealthily returned to see if Odelia’s departure had been observed.

Scarface was still in position, though, and talking into his phone again.

I quickly made my way back to my human, and together the three of us circled around and started our way back to the compound.

The sun had crept a little higher across the horizon and the world was quickly heating up.

“Now I understand why I haven’t seen a single cat on this island,” I told Dooley. “It’s too hot for the likes of us, what with our thick coat of fur.”

“Maybe I should shave you guys?” Odelia suggested.

“Ha ha,” I said. “Over my dead body.”

We quickly arrived back at the site, and Odelia made a beeline for the villa that housed the staff. The first person we met was Kimmy, and Odelia quickly told the production assistant of our unfortunate encounter with Scarface.

Kimmy’s face took on a grave expression. “I’ll tell security. Hopefully they can still catch the guy.”

And as Dooley and I watched on, the villa came to life: beefy security men came hurrying out, then hopped into a jeep, and soon were off, after having received instructions from Odelia, detailing Scarface’s last known location.

“I hope they catch him,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, I hope so, too.”

“Though if they do catch him, our job here is done, right? And we get to go home again?”

“I think so,” I said.

He looked happy at the prospect, and I have to confess I felt happy, too. A cat is never happier than when close to home and hearth. It’s strange but true. After all, we’re not dogs. Dogs enjoy prancing around the world like hapless globetrotters. Us cats do not. We’re homebodies, and proud to be so.

I’d only been there a day and already I missed cat choir, and my friends, and my couch, and my daily routine.

Besides, I was way too hot—and not prepared to allow Odelia to shave me. Uh-uh. No way! I prefer to suffer in silence than to end up looking like a fool. Have you ever seen a hairless cat? They’re weird!

Besides, I love my blorange coat of fur. It’s part of my personality. It’s who I am.

So I decided to sweat, and not fret, and when ten minutes later the jeep returned, and I saw that they’d managed to capture the scar-faced man, I was over the moon.

Our adventure was over.

We were going home!

Chapter 24

“But he’s my gaffer!” Clint cried as he walked out of the villa to survey the scene. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, spying on my contestants!” he added with a good deal of ire.

Scarface had been deposited in front of the big boss, and Odelia, having crossed her arms and eyeing the man with no small measure of pique, had been joined by pretty much the entire contingent marooned on the island, fellow candidates and seducers included.

Scarface wilted a little under the attention, and seemed genuinely unnerved, like a man dragged before the police court after having been caught driving under the influence.

“I’m… a reporter,” he finally said, in a surprisingly reedy voice. “The name is Jack Davenport and I’m doing a piece on Passion Island for the National Star.”

“The National Star!” Clint, cried, throwing his hands in the air. “So you mean to tell me you’re not a gaffer?”

“An amateur gaffer at best,” said the man, looking distinctly ill at ease.

“But why did you break into my room and film me in my sleep?” asked Odelia.

“Plenty of these so-called couples aren’t couples at all,” said the guy with a shrug. “So my editor told me to try and catch you in the act, meaning sleeping apart. You guys are a real couple, though,” he said, offering Odelia a faint smile.

“So you spied on all of my candidates?!” thundered Clint.

“Yeah, and I gotta say all of them are for real, man.”

“Of course they’re for real!”

“My editor thought otherwise, so he sent me in to expose this show as a fabrication. But so far that hasn’t been my experience. Everything looks above board. Not a message my editor wanted to hear, mind you. I can tell you he was pretty disappointed.”

“Well, you can tell your editor he can go and boil his head!” Clint said, and stormed into the house. Then, apparently having changed his mind, he came storming out again. “On second thought, why don’t you stick around?”

“Stick around?” asked Jack Davenport.

“Stick around?!” asked Odelia, aghast.

“Yeah, if you promise to give the show a good write-up, you can stick around. If not, you can go to hell.”

“I’d rather stick around, sir,” said Jack.

“Great. I look forward to reading your article,” said Clint with a nod.

“You can’t do this!” Odelia cried. “He broke into my room!”

Clint shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Poole,” said Jack later, as he and Odelia were seated at the breakfast table. “I know your work and I’m a great admirer. So when my editor told me to film all the contestants in their sleep, I balked at the idea. But he told me that if I didn’t do it, he’d send someone who would. And I need the job. My wife is pregnant with our first, and I can’t afford to be out of work right now. You know how hard it is to be a reporter these days. Not a lot of jobs to go around.”

“I still think it’s a pretty crap thing to do,” said Odelia as she bit down on a chocolate croissant with cream filling. The food at the resort was amazing. If she wasn’t careful she’d go home ten pounds heavier than when she set out for Thailand.

“I hope you can forgive me,” said Jack.

“I actually thought you were a kidnapper.”

“A kidnapper!”

“Yeah, the way you came after me this morning.”

“I was just trying to get a couple of good shots for my article. And when I saw you take off running the opportunity was too good to miss.” He thoughtfully took a sip from his coffee. “What were you doing in that shack if I may ask? It almost looked as if you were on the phone with someone, which of course is impossible, since candidates aren’t allowed to have phones.”

Odelia studied the guy. Now that he’d told them his name, she knew who he was. She’d read his articles. He was a pretty sharp observer, and a great writer. What he was doing writing for a tabloid she didn’t know. Then again, as he said, it wasn’t easy finding work as a reporter these days. She wondered how much to tell him, then decided to trust her gut.

“I’m not here as a candidate, Jack. I’m here as a reporter. Some of the contestants from previous editions have gone missing, and I’m trying to figure out what’s going on.”

Jack whistled through his teeth. “Now that’s the kind of story I wouldn’t mind breaking. Missing, you say? How come I haven’t heard about this?”

“Because their families haven’t filed missing person reports. They’re still in touch with them, through email and letters and postcards. But it’s too much of a coincidence that five women, all of them former contestants, would take off like that.”

“Yeah, I’d say the odds of that happening are pretty slim.”

“My fiancé is a cop, and he’s on the other island checking things out over there, while I’m here, trying to see if I can find out what’s going on.”

“And you thought I was involved,” said Jack, nodding.

“Can you blame me?”

He shook his head and smiled, then fingered his scar absentmindedly.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” asked Odelia.

“I fell from my bike when I was five,” said Jack, anticipating. “The doctor who patched me up did a pretty lousy job and the wound got infected. I could get it fixed, but I’ve found that it actually helps in my line of work. The bad guys figure I’m one of them, and the good guys feel sorry and get gabby.” He grinned. “So I just leave it. I call it my lucky scar, and my wife doesn’t seem to mind.”

“You know?” said Odelia, throwing down her napkin. “We could team up. Whatever we discover, we share the credit. What do you say?”

“Oh, I’d love nothing more,” said Jack. “Spying on reality show participants isn’t as exciting as it sounds.”

They both laughed, and shook hands on it.

Chapter 25

“So we’re not going home?” asked Dooley sadly.

“We’re not going home,” I said, just as sadly.

We were both lying on the beach, watching the Passion Island contestants being dragged around the Gulf of Thailand on jet skis. And when I say we were on the beach, I mean, of course, on the edge of the beach, safely and comfortably nestled on the terrace of one of those beach restaurants that appear to infest beaches the world over, and offer refreshments, ice cream, and the opportunity for a sanitary break if so desired, though of course most beachgoers use the wide-open oceans or seas as their convenient latrine.

“Jack Davenport,” said Dooley, and in his eyes was a look that said what exactly he thought of this reporter.

It was the same thing I thought, namely that it simply wasn’t fair, pretending to be a nasty kidnapper and then coming out and revealing oneself as a mere reporter.

“So we’re still no closer to discovering who’s behind these kidnappings?”

“Not an inch closer,” I agreed.

“Too bad,” he said with a sigh.

For a moment we were both silent. On the water, Odelia was going under, having fallen off her skis for the third time. Surprisingly, Joanna was actually the only one who’d managed to stay upright so far. Must be all those books she balanced as an accountant. Clearly worked wonders for her sense of equilibrium.

“Maybe Harriet and Brutus will have better luck,” said Dooley.

“I doubt it,” I said. “I don’t buy Gran’s theory about the seductresses being behind this whole thing. No, the real culprit will be on this island, and so far I haven’t a clue who it could be.”

“It could be Clint Bunda himself.”

“But why? Why would Clint abduct his own contestants?”

“Maybe he collects them?”

“Collects them?”

“Well, some people collect stamps or baseball cards or comic books. Maybe Clint is the kind of man who collects reality show contestants?”

It was a thought, of course. Though it’s a lot harder to collect women than it is to collect stamps or baseball cards or comic books. Not to mention illegal. Then again, it takes all kinds of people to make the world go round, so maybe Dooley was onto something.

“Let’s take a closer look at his room,” I suggested therefore. Frankly there’s only so long you can watch people falling into the water and having to be rescued by the Chippendales.

So Dooley and I made our way to the staff villa, and entered unnoticed. The villa was pretty much emptied out, most of the technical crew at the waterfront, making sure the candidates’ escapades were captured in technicolor and perfect surround sound.

Once upstairs, we found that Clint had closed his door. We quickly found a workaround, though: we snuck into a neighboring room, and proceeded onto the balcony. Just like the first floor it was of the wraparound variety, and we easily moved from room to room, this time having more luck, as people tend to leave their windows open in these hot climes.

And it was as we arrived on the fourth balcony that we hit pay dirt. Actually we hit upon the producer himself, taking a nap on his balcony, his hat draped over his eyes.

So we snuck into his room and started our silent inspection. Unfortunately I didn’t find anything to raise a red flag that this man was our man: no strange communications or discarded messages indicating Clint had a secret and highly illicit hobby.

I even hopped onto his desk to inspect his laptop, but ended up scrolling through an endless list of emails, finding nothing particularly incriminating except a penchant for off-color jokes.

And just when I’d opened his Facebook, a knock sounded at the door, and Dooley and I quickly scooted under the bed.

“Mr. Bunda!” a voice called out. “Mr. Bunda, sir!”

“Grmbl,” was the response from the balcony. Moments later the big guy came stumbling in, still sleepy, and opened the door. “Oh, it’s you,” we heard him say, and I snuck a look from underneath the bed. It was a skinny, pale-looking guy with pockmarked face I thought I’d seen before. One of the technicians.

“There’s a problem with one of the feeds,” said the guy.

“Feeds?” grumbled Clint with the air of a man who’s just been roused from a relaxing slumber. I knew just how he felt, having been in the same position many a time myself.

“The feed from Jackie Copley’s bedroom,” said the techie. “It cuts in and out.”

“Well, then fix it,” said Clint irritably. “They’re all out on the water right now, so you better fix it before they get back.”

“It’s just that…”

“Just what?”

“What if Miss Copley walks in just as I’m fixing the cameras?”

“Ask Frank to go with you. Tell him to wait outside and watch out for Jackie. Tell him to whistle if she walks up.”

“Whistle, sir?”

“You do know how to whistle, don’t you, Rick? You just put your lips together and blow.” And to show what he meant, he proceeded to give us a demonstration. A copious amount of spittle proceeded from his lips, hitting his technician, but no sound came.

“I don’t think he knows how to whistle, Max,” said Dooley.

“No, I don’t think so either,” I said, thoroughly amused by the scene.

“Maybe I’ll tell Frank to make the sound of a bird, sir,” said Rick, who wasn’t convinced by this botched demonstration.

“Do whatever you like,” grumbled Clint.

“Do you know an indigenous bird, sir?”

“What kind of bird now?”

“Indigenous to these parts, sir? We don’t want to draw suspicion by making the sound of a bird that doesn’t inhabit these islands, sir.”

“Oh, go to blazes!” Clint barked, and slammed the door in the techie’s face, thus ending the conversation with the kind of finality the producer of a hit show likes to see.

It also ended Dooley and my excursion into the life of Clint Bunda, as I didn’t think the man was the kind of collector Dooley had taken him for. The only things the man seemed to collect were insults and naps, as he went straight back to his balcony, and moments later the telltale sound of loud snores told us the coast was clear, so we skedaddled, not exactly with our tails between our legs, but very nearly so.

When were we finally going to catch a break?

Chapter 26

When we arrived downstairs, we passed a room whose door was ajar. Inside, Rick was explaining to a guy I assumed was Frank of how they were going to go about restoring the camera feed from Jackie’s bedroom.

“So you hide in the bushes and the moment Jackie arrives you make this sound,” he said, then tapped a key on a computer and the sound of birdsong filled the air.

It was a strange, whoop-whoop-whooping kind of sound, like a cuckoo but different.

“It’s the mating call of the hoopoe,” Rick explained. “That way Jackie won’t suspect a thing. Now give it a try.”

Frank, a heavyset guy with no hair on top of his head and the fringes tied back in a ponytail, pursed his lips and tried to mimic the sound of the hoopoe. It wasn’t even close. In fact it sounded more like a kettle going on the boil.

“No, Frank. You’re not even trying,” said Rick.

“Why can’t I just whistle?” asked Frank plaintively.

“You can whistle?” asked Rick, sounding surprised.

“Sure. Who can’t?” And he produced a healthy whistle, this time without covering his colleague in a waterfall of spittle.

“Okay, I can live with that,” said Rick.

“Or I could do the Imperial March,” said Frank as he and Rick walked out. And without waiting for a response he started singing some bombastic-sounding snatch of music.

“No, no, no!” said Rick. “That’s not how it goes. John Williams specifically added those grace notes. Here, let me show you.”

And while the two geeks walked off, to make sure Jackie’s nocturnal escapades were picked up for the audience’s edification, if not titillation, Dooley and I snuck into the room and found ourselves gazing at a wall of screens, feeds visible from all over the resort. They were all neatly labeled, too: Odelia’s bedroom, Odelia’s bathroom, Odelia’s living room…

“Oh, my God,” I said. “This is a voyeur’s paradise. If Norman Bates saw this, he’d break into song and dance.”

“They’re filming everything,” said Dooley, awed by this flagrant intrusion of privacy. “They even film her when she’s in the bathroom.”

“I think there’s probably laws against that,” I said as I checked the other screens. All four candidates were there, but also the four male contestants, and all of the seducers and seductresses. And on top of that many public areas, too, like the plazas, the bars, the toilets behind both plazas, the beaches…

“This must be the main control room,” I said. “Where all the feeds come in.”

“There must be hours and hours of footage,” said Dooley.

“Must be a nightmare to edit.”

A scene attracted my attention. It was Odelia sitting on the beach with seducer Mike. And they appeared to be very cozy indeed.

Dooley must have seen it, too, for he said, “I don’t like that, Max. Odelia and this Mike guy? Soon she’ll dump Chase and Mike will move in with us. And what if he doesn’t even like cats?” A note of panic had entered his voice as he talked. “Maybe he’ll demand she get rid of us, and then where does that leave us? Out on the street. Or at the pound!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said soothingly. “Odelia is simply chatting with Mike, probably trying to find out what he knows about the missing women.”

“Look, Max!” Dooley cried, and pointed to another screen. It depicted Chase, also seated on the beach, over on the other island, chatting with a blonde of impressive measurements. “It’s happening, Max! Passion Island is breaking up our couple!”

“Not a chance,” I said, though I had to admit both Odelia and Chase looked very cozy chatting with people that weren’t their significant other. “I’m sure they’re just talking. And there’s nothing against talking, is there?”

On yet another screen, I saw Gran and Scarlett seated at the bar, chatting. I wondered what they were talking about. Possibly Gran’s theory about the seductresses being behind this whole kidnapping scheme.

“We’ve got to do something, Scarlett. I’m telling you, this whole thing is going to hell in a handbasket if we don’t interfere now!”

“Relax, Vesta,” said Scarlett as she sipped from her drink. “Mh. This stuff is pretty good. What’s in this, darling?” she asked the bartender, a handsome young man she’d taken a shine to.

“Banana rum, pineapple juice, Blue Curaçao and cream of coconut, ma’am,” said the kid.

Scarlett giggled and said, “Ma’am. Do I look like a ma’am to you?” She placed a hand on the man’s arm and squeezed his bicep appreciatively. “Call me Scarlett.”

“Um, all right…” said the kid, his eyes taking in Scarlett’s impressive bust.

“Scarlett!” said Vesta. “Stop trying to seduce that kid and listen to me. If we don’t get Chase out of the claws of that Donna person we’re going to lose him, you hear me?”

“Not a chance. That boy loves your granddaughter. He’s not going to risk it all just for the chance to dive into bed with that floozie.”

“That floozie’s got her sights set on him, and she’s working him for all she’s got. Men are weak, Scarlett. You know it and I know it. Remember Jack?”

“Oh, do I remember Jack!” said Scarlett with a grin. Then, as she saw Vesta’s thunderous expression, she dropped the smile. “Look, Chase is not like other men. He’s one of the good guys. He’s not going to cheat on your granddaughter. No way.”

“He doesn’t want to cheat, but he won’t be able to help himself. But I have a plan.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Here we go again.”

“Listen to me!”

“I’m listening, I’m listening!”

“We have got to make sure he doesn’t sleep with the woman, so here’s what we’re going to do.” And as she explained her plan in great detail, earning herself another eyeroll in the process, she couldn’t help but hope that on the other island someone was offering the same courtesy to Odelia, cause if she succumbed to the charms of this Mike guy Chase had mentioned, all was well and truly lost.

Chapter 27

In spite of the fact that she’d sucked in more seawater than strictly necessary, and had spent more time in the water than on her skis, Odelia discovered to her surprise that she’d had a good time. She wasn’t naturally inclined to try out new things, especially when they could potentially end in terminal consequences to life and limb, but the water skiing was a lot more fun than she’d anticipated.

Looking and feeling like a water chicken, she returned to her villa to wash the brine from her hair and skin, and get dressed for dinner. Francine had announced she had a surprise for them, and she had a feeling she knew exactly what this surprise entailed.

Date night.

And since the seducers were the ones taking the initiative she saw a late-night date with seducer Mike in her immediate future.

She reckoned she could have hit it worse. Mike was a nice guy. They’d chatted a little on the beach, after she’d finally decided she’d had enough of the water skiing experiment. He worked as a male model for a New York agency and had joined Passion Island to raise his profile with the company and land more lucrative gigs. He wasn’t necessarily a lady killer, though, and had admitted he actually had a girl back home, and she’d never forgive him if he hooked up with a contestant.

So she was pretty much safe with him, knowing he wouldn’t hit on her. Or at least not too hard.

As she walked up the path to her villa, she was waylaid by Jack Davenport, who’d clearly been lying in wait.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked, looking left and right as if expecting company.

“Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“Not here,” he said, and took her by the elbow, leading her behind the villa. “I disabled the feed before I came out here,” he explained.

Odelia had slung a towel around herself, but was eager to get inside and take that shower, so she said, “Better make it quick. I need to get ready for dinner.”

“Listen,” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s about Joanna.”

“Joanna? What about her?”

“You know how I spied on all of the candidates, right? Back in Bangkok? Making sure they were couples or not? So when I was checking up on Joanna and her boyfriend she slipped out of bed in the middle of the night to make a mysterious phone call in the bathroom. It was really annoying, cause I wanted to leave their hotel room and I couldn’t. I was hiding behind the curtains the whole time, and getting a crick in the neck.”

“What mysterious phone call?”

“I don’t know, but it was obvious she didn’t want her boyfriend to overhear her. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but with what you told me about women going missing…” He arched a meaningful eyebrow.

“You think she’s involved somehow?”

“It’s worth looking into, don’t you think?”

Odelia nodded slowly. “Thanks. I’ll try to bring it up with her.” She wondered how, though. She couldn’t very well confess that she’d made a pact with the intrusive tabloid reporter.

“Oh, and one other thing,” said Jack as Odelia started for the front of the villa. “Better watch your back. I looked into the profiles of the five women who disappeared and they all have one thing in common.”

“What?”

“They’re the spitting image of… you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

As Odelia luxuriated under the spray of the rainfall shower head, she mused on Jack’s words. He was right. Of all four candidates she was the only one who resembled the type the five missing women represented. Which meant that whoever this kidnapper was, he might come after her next. And in spite of the heat of the shower, she suddenly shivered, and wished Chase wasn’t on a different island, separated by a large swath of sea.

Now that she came to think of it, all of her allies were far away: Chase and Gran were one island over, Uncle Alec was in Hampton Cove, and her parents were in Europe.

Then, as she toweled then tied the towel on top of her head, she smiled when Max and Dooley came ambling into the bedroom.

At least she had two cats in her corner.

“So what did you guys get up to today?” she asked.

“Oh, this and that,” said Max airily.

“We saw you on the beach with Mike,” said Dooley, not so airily. “Are you and Mike getting married, Odelia? Is he moving into our house soon and is Chase moving out?”

Two pairs of cat eyes stared at her accusingly, and she laughed. “Oh, you guys. Of course not. Mike is just a friend. Well, not even a friend. More of an acquaintance.” She made a conscious effort not to move her lips too much, in case the cameras picked up on it. “Shall I let you in on a little secret?”

Both cats nodded eagerly.

“Mike is engaged to be married. He only took this job to improve his chances to land better jobs back home so he can get married to his high school sweetheart. So there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

They both heaved sighs of relief, especially Dooley, who was something of a worrywart sometimes. “I really thought he was moving in!” Dooley cried, now also smiling. “And I figured that if he doesn’t like cats he’d kick us both out and we’d have to spend the rest of our days at the pound!”

“No pound for you, my sweet,” said Odelia, and finished dressing. She told the cats about her meeting with Jack, and they offered to spy on Joanna to see what she was up to. She decided not to mention she fit the profile of the abducted women to a tee. No need to get them all worked up about it.

“You should have seen the setup these people have,” Max said as he stretched out on the bed. “An entire bank of screens, wall to wall, showing footage from dozens and dozens of cameras planted all over the two resorts.”

“Yeah, they can see everything you do,” Dooley chimed in. “It’s a little creepy.”

“It’s very creepy,” Odelia said.

“Jackie’s camera broke,” Max continued. “And two technicians named Rick and Frank had to go and fix it before tonight. It seemed like a big deal to Clint.”

“I think they’re expecting fireworks tonight,” Odelia said as she checked herself in the mirror. She’d opted for a simple floral dress that made her look less like a femme fatale and more like the girl next door. She figured she was done playing the perfect candidate and was going to be more herself from now on.

“We’re having fireworks tonight?” asked Dooley, surprised. “I don’t like fireworks. It makes me want to pee.”

“I don’t mean actual fireworks,” she said, wondering what to do with her hair. “I mean…” She directed a glance down at Dooley, who was eyeing her intently. “Um…”

“What Odelia means to say is that Jackie and the boy she likes are probably going to spend some time together,” said Max, treading carefully. “Because they like each other so much.”

“But doesn’t Jackie like her own boyfriend anymore?”

“Well, her own boyfriend has been very naughty over on the other island and he’s been, um… kissing another girl. So now Jackie is upset and she’s decided to, um…”

“Kiss another boy,” said Dooley, nodding. “To get even.”

Odelia gave Dooley a look of surprise. “Correct,” she said.

“I watch a lot of soaps with Gran,” Dooley explained. “Women on General Hospital do that kind of thing a lot. But sooner or later they forgive their boyfriends and then they get married. So I’m sure that’s what’ll happen with Jackie and Gary. When the show is over they’ll kiss and make up and live happily ever after.”

Somehow Odelia doubted whether Dooley’s rosy world view would come true for Jackie, but she nodded. “I’ll bet you’re right, Dooley.”

“Of course I’m right. Though there’s also a small chance Jackie will end up getting pregnant and discover that Gary isn’t the father but Gary’s long-lost twin brother is, and she’ll end up drinking a lot of alcohol and crashing her car and needing plastic surgery and falling in love with the trauma surgeon over at the hospital who’ll turn out to be her father.” He shrugged. “Happens all the time.”

Odelia frowned and reminded herself to tell Gran not to watch her soaps in front of Dooley again. It clearly was having an adverse effect on the poor cat.

Chapter 28

That evening, dinner wasn’t the usual laid-back affair. Instead, different nooks had been arranged, where different seducers sat down with the four contestants for their first date night. Which seducer got to date which contestant had been left to the show’s producers to decide, and in Odelia’s case Mike was the lucky boy. Or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it.

Dooley and I had taken up position nearby, making sure nothing untoward was happening. You could call us our human’s keepers. Odelia may have told us she wasn’t interested in dating this male model, but that didn’t stop us both from worrying.

For once I heartily agreed with Dooley that he had reason for concern. I liked Chase, and didn’t enjoy the prospect of Odelia performing a switcheroo and replacing him with this Mike character.

“He doesn’t look like a cat hater,” said Dooley as we closely observed the man.

“Appearances can be deceiving, Dooley,” I reminded him. “He could be on his good behavior now, but the moment he moves in with Odelia he could turn out to be some kind of Cruella De Ville, only in his case out to skin cats not Dalmatian puppies.”

“You’re right,” said my friend. “We have to watch him like a hawk. Did you know that hawks can spot a prey from a hundred feet? Amazing creatures, hawks. They eat mice.”

Dooley watches a lot of Discovery Channel, which is preferable to watching Gran’s batch of daily soap operas. It sometimes leads to strange interludes in our conversations, though.

“Speaking of mice,” I said, “did you ever find out why Hector prefers our basement over Marge’s?” I couldn’t help but think back to those halcyon days when we were still blissfully unaware of Passion Island and missing women, the days before Kimmy had entered our lives and dragged us out to Koh Samui Island with its palm trees and scorching heat.

“Odelia says it’s because they know we won’t harm them,” said Dooley.

“Brutus and Harriet wouldn’t harm them either,” I said, frowning. I didn’t like these disparaging notions about my mouse-hunting prowess being bandied about so loosely.

“No, but Harriet at least tried to catch them once, remember?”

“That wasn’t Hector and Helga. That was a different family of mice.”

“Odelia thinks mice talk. And word must have spread about Harriet being the kind of cat who doesn’t waste time hunting any rodent intruder.”

“Mh,” I said dubiously.

“It’s a good thing, Max,” said Dooley. “If the mice of Hampton Cove all think you’re a softie, it says a lot about you. You should take it as a compliment.”

“I’m not sure that a reputation of being soft on mice is necessarily a good thing, Dooley. What if all the mice of Hampton Cove decide to come and live with us? Where would that leave us? Out on the street, probably.”

He threw me a worried glance, in between his stares at Mike. “In that case I hope the house won’t be overrun with mice by the time we get back.”

“Uncle Alec said he’d drop by once a week to water the plants,” I reminded him.

We both shared a look of concern now. Uncle Alec isn’t exactly the most conscientious homeowner. His own place is usually a mess of epic proportions, so his promise to watch Odelia and Marge’s houses was probably not such a good thing.

“Look, we made a pact,” I reiterated a point I’d had to explain to a lot of cats since its inception. “And Hector is not the kind of mouse who’d renege on a promise once given.”

Though truth be told his kids didn’t always seem to adhere to the pact, judging from the food that kept disappearing from Odelia’s fridge and pantry at regular intervals.

“Max!” suddenly Dooley cried. “He’s going in! He’s going to try and kiss her!”

Dooley was right. Right before our very eyes Mike was leaning across the table, which was set for a romantic dinner for two, complete with candles and the resort’s very best china, a string quartet’s gentle tones oozing from the speakers.

“As we practiced, Dooley,” I said crisply. “On your mark—ready, set, GO!”

And as one cat we jumped on top of the offending lover boy.

Odelia had to admit that Mike made for good company. Frankly she was feeling a little drowsy. She still hadn’t fully recovered from the jet lag, and spending the afternoon on the water practicing a sport at which she was an absolute novice had made her particularly sleepy. But Mike was easy to talk to, and funny to boot. And when she told him she was going to turn in early he didn’t mind one bit.

“It might earn me a pretty harsh rebuke from Francine but I don’t care,” he said as he held his glass of wine and clinked it against hers.

“Rebuke? Why?”

“The whole idea of this dinner is that it ends in a win for Team Seducers,” he said with a grin. “And it would earn me a pretty hefty bonus.”

“This show is really immoral on so many levels,” said Odelia, a little disgusted. “They’re actually paying you money if you manage to get into bed with me?”

“There’s a bonus system,” he explained. “First base nets us a cool hundred, second base two hundred, and so on and so forth. It’s pretty elaborate.”

“How much for nookie?” she asked.

“A thousand. Two for a repeat performance and another two for every night after that. So you see, it adds up.”

“That’s pretty sick,” she said, shaking her head. “Like legalized prostitution.”

“Yeah, if I’d known about it I probably wouldn’t have signed up. Problem is, they don’t tell you from the beginning. They only let you in on the bonus system once you’re already here and fully committed. It’s tough to walk out if you’ve gone to all the trouble of putting your life on hold for the duration of the show.”

“Well, I’m very sorry, Mike,” said Odelia. “But you’re not going to win anything by going after me. Not one cent, I’m afraid.”

“And like I said, that’s perfectly fine with me. I’m not here to cash in. Besides, I don’t want to lose the respect of my girl. She’ll be watching this and so will her family, and mine. Do you want a refill?” He leaned over to grab the bottle, and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, two furry fiends came flying, and attached themselves to Mike. One furry fiend jumped on top of his head, while the other hit his chest like a cannonball.

Uttering a loud scream, Mike toppled over and fell to the floor.

“Max! Dooley!” Odelia cried, springing to her feet. “Get off him!”

“But he’s trying to kiss you!” Max yelled, seated on the unfortunate seducer’s chest.

“He wasn’t. Now get off!”

They did as they were told, and Odelia helped Mike to his feet. He looked more startled than hurt, though his nose was bleeding where apparently Dooley had bitten him.

“What was that?!” he yelped.

“My cats. They must have thought you were trying to, um… Well, they’re very protective.”

“They’re crazy!” he squealed, checking his chest for puncture marks. “Crazy cats!”

And with these words, he walked off, a little unsteadily.

“I’m sorry!” she yelled after him, but he was mumbling to himself under his breath.

“We thought he was moving in for a kiss,” Max explained.

She sat down and arched an eyebrow in her cat’s direction. “I guess I should praise myself lucky that you never took a dislike to Chase. You might have killed him.”

“We would never attack Chase,” said Dooley earnestly. “We like Chase. Chase is great.”

In spite of the ruinous ending to her evening, she smiled. “Your intentions were good, but next time please don’t attack my dates.”

“There will be others?” asked Max, startled.

“After this? Probably not.”

Members of the production team came running now. They must have seen everything on their monitors. In the distance she could see Mike receiving first aid, and Kimmy was by her side, fussing over her and asking if she was all right.

“Did you get all of that on tape?” asked Odelia.

Kimmy grinned. “Oh, yeah. I have a feeling your cats are going to be pretty famous after this.”

“You hear that, guys?” asked Odelia. “You’re going to be famous. They’ll turn you into memes.”

Dooley’s eyes went wide. “But I don’t want to be turned into memes! I want to live!”

Chapter 29

Over on Koh Phangan, the men’s island, things weren’t progressing quite as Harriet had anticipated. She’d hoped to get a lot of screen time, and had positioned herself in the picture as much as felinely possible.

While the men were frolicking in the pool with the seductresses, she’d stuck close to the cameramen, but they’d roundly ignored her attempts to strut her stuff. One had even had the gall to kick in her direction and utter the one cry cats hate more than anything: ‘Shoo!’

Wounded to the core of her immortal soul, she’d retreated to her lodgings, which were also Chase’s lodgings, and Brutus’s, the latter telling her not to take these things personally, as cameramen will be cameramen and apparently this one was as anti-cat as they came.

During the campfire, she’d positioned herself on Chase’s lap, and had remained there throughout, until Chase had become all agog at the sight of Odelia sitting on the beach in her bikini chatting with a hunk in trunks and Harriet had been flung from his lap when he’d started gesticulating wildly.

And during Chase’s dinner date with Donna, she’d managed to walk into the picture a couple of times, until one of the producers had bodily grabbed her and deposited her elsewhere.

“The gall of these people!” she cried. “To manhandle me. Me!”

“Yeah, that wasn’t nice,” Brutus agreed.

They were back in Chase’s room, where they’d returned after this most recent and infuriating incident.

“I’m going to tell Chase to write a strongly worded email to the producer that this kind of thing can’t go on. This island is full of cat haters and something must be done.”

“At least they can’t cut you from the frame, sweet puss. Or else they’ll have to cut Chase, too, and they’re not going to do that.”

“They can edit me out. These people can do anything. Edit me in or out as they see fit. Just like Stalin.”

“Stalin?”

“He used to edit people out of his pictures all the time. At least that’s what Dooley told me.” She frowned darkly. “If this keeps up I’m going to be deleted from history completely. As if I was never even here!”

“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” said Brutus soothingly.

“I wouldn’t be too sure. These people are capable of anything, even feline deletion!”

Just then, Gran and Scarlett both came bursting into the room.

“Harriet, Brutus!” whispered Gran, as if afraid she might be overheard. “How did Chase’s date go?”

“Yeah, how did it go?” Scarlett echoed.

“They kicked me out,” said Harriet. “Can you believe it? There I was, strutting my stuff for all I’m worth, and some minion came and grabbed me and told me in no uncertain terms to get lost.”

“Huh,” said Gran, not really showing the kind of compassion a cat scorned likes to see in her human. “So was there any kissing going on? Things heating up between Donna and Chase?”

“No kissing,” said Brutus categorically. “I checked.”

“Good,” said Gran, satisfied. She turned to her friend. “No kissing,” she explained.

“Doesn’t mean anything,” was Scarlett’s prompt response. “They could be kissing up a storm right now, and heading this way for some after-dinner nookie.”

“Over my dead body,” Gran growled. “Harriet, Brutus. New mission. The moment Donna sets foot in this villa you have my permission to do whatever it takes to get her out again.”

Harriet perked up at this. In every cat lurks a touch of the wild. They may have allowed themselves to be domesticated but, unlike the canine species, have managed to retain the hunter’s instinct their ancestors possessed. Under normal circumstances a cat tamps down on its primeval instincts, but to give it permission to unleash these urges is like giving a pyromaniac a set of matches and telling him to go and build a nice bonfire.

“Anything at all?” asked Harriet, sheathing and unsheathing her sharp claws.

“Whatever it takes,” Gran repeated. “That campfire was a disaster, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Chase decided to get some of his own back after watching Odelia schmooze with that musclehead.”

“I thought he was very handsome,” said Scarlett. “In fact I wouldn’t mind making his acquaintance one of these days.”

Scarlett had lamented on more than one occasion that the four candidates weren’t much to write home about, and she’d much rather have a go at the seducers over on the other island instead. But since beggars can’t be choosers she’d decided to help Gran.

“You and I are going to hide under the bed,” said Gran now.

“Wait, what?!” cried Scarlett.

“That way we can make sure Chase doesn’t do anything stupid. Like cheat on Odelia.”

“I’m not crawling under that bed,” said Scarlett.

“Fine. You can hide in the closet then.”

“How about I hide in the bathroom? When they catch me I can always tell them I got confused. These villas all look the same anyway.”

“It’s either the closet or the bed. You choose.”

“Oh, all right. I’ll take the closet. But I’m not staying in there all night. I need my beauty sleep.”

“It won’t take long, believe me,” said Gran with a resolute look on her face.

“So if Chase and Donna walk in, we pounce?” asked Harriet eagerly. “Go for the jugular?”

“Take it easy, princess,” said Gran. “We want to scare the woman, not create a bloodbath. No, when they walk in, you create a big fuss. And when that doesn’t work, Scarlett and I will come out of hiding and try to talk some sense into the guy.”

“It will be hard,” said Scarlett. “By the time Chase walks in with Donna he’ll be so hot and bothered he could get belligerent when he doesn’t get what he wants.”

“That’s where Brutus comes in.” Gran crouched down, causing her knees and hips to creak dangerously. “Brutus, you hit Chase with anxious puss face. You know, like Puss in Boots from those Shrek movies.”

Brutus frowned.

“No, not like that.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen that movie,” he said, looking a little confused.

“Brutus doesn’t really do anxious,” said Harriet. “He does scary very well, though.”

“Fine, you do scary and Harriet, you do anxious puss.”

“I don’t do anxious either,” said Harriet haughtily. “It isn’t in my repertoire, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, fine! So you both do scary.” Gran then slid underneath the bed. “The things I do for my granddaughter,” she muttered.

Scarlett disappeared into the bathroom and Vesta yelled after her. “Where are you going?”

“Touch up my makeup. I want to look good for the cameras.”

“Get back here.”

“Yes, boss,” said Scarlett, tripping back into the room.

“Now into the closet with you, and be quick about it!” Vesta barked.

Scarlett giggled. “This is so exciting!”

And thus the scene was set.

Now all it took was for Chase to walk in with Donna and the show was a go.

Chapter 30

I was feeling slightly embarrassed about the predicament we’d landed our human in. Mike apparently had been spooked to such an extent he wanted to go home, and even Clint had come down to declare the plaza and its surroundings off-limits for cats from now on. And since Dooley and I were the only cats on the island that clearly meant us.

Odelia herself wasn’t mad. I think she was even proud of the protective instincts that had guided our misguided attempt to make her remain faithful to her chosen one.

She was also very tired, though, so she’d turned in for the night the moment Mike had been patched up sufficiently and the date had officially been written off as a total loss.

So it was with mixed emotions that I walked into Odelia’s villa, Odelia pretty much dead on her feet and Dooley still speculating whether Mike had worn a toupee or not.

“I felt his hair shift when I landed on top of his head,” he repeated. “I’m sure he’s wearing a hairpiece, Max.”

“It could be a weave,” I countered. “A hairpiece would have come off when he was on that speedboat dragging Odelia behind him on her water skis.”

“Not when he’s glued it in place.”

“You don’t glue a hairpiece in place, Dooley,” I said. “You loosely attach it to your scalp and hope the wind won’t pick it up and deposit it on your date’s plate.”

All this talk of weaves and hairpieces didn’t appear to capture Odelia’s attention, for she headed straight for the bathroom, fully intent on getting ready for bed.

“I still think it was a toupee,” said Dooley.

“Must have been a weave,” I argued.

The thought then occurred to me that there was only one way to settle the argument once and for all: we could simply go over to Mike’s villa and see for ourselves. It’s a rare man who sleeps with a toupee, as it tends to shift when he turns in his sleep. A weave, on the other hand, stays firmly stuck in place.

And as we walked back out of the villa, I briefly wondered if we weren’t forsaking our sacred duty as Odelia’s watch-cats. Then I figured that with all the cameras watching her every move, it would be a very dumb kidnapper indeed to try and snatch her now.

Five minutes later Dooley and I were gazing in through the window to see if Mike the seducer was a toupee man or a weave man.

As luck would have it, he came walking out of the bathroom just when we arrived. And much to my surprise, he was rocking a Jason Statham, cleanly shaven dome and all.

“See!” said Dooley triumphantly. “It was a toupee!”

“Touché,” I murmured, gracious in defeat.

And just as we were about to hop down from the windowsill, much to my surprise a second person came walking out of the bathroom. It was Jackie, and she was only wearing a towel, and as she dropped it, she was wearing even less.

I gulped, and so did Dooley.

“Oh, my,” I said. “Looks like our friend Mike has gotten over his cat-induced trauma pretty quick.”

And as Jackie joined Mike in bed, I gulped some more, and then, for some reason, my right hind leg suddenly developed a cramp and shot out, neatly hitting Dooley in the buttocks and sending him flying off the windowsill. These kinds of R-rated scenes were not fit for the likes of him.

“What happened?” he asked, having neatly landed on his feet.

“I don’t know,” I said, joining him on the deck. “I got a sudden cramp in my leg.”

The sound of the gong echoed through the air, but judging from the giggling sounds inside the room, Mike nor Jackie seemed to mind.

“We better get back to Odelia,” I said, before Dooley could hop onto that windowsill to watch the sequel.

Dooley immediately picked up on my hint. “You think she’s all right?”

“Let’s go and find out,” I said, and soon we were trotting back to our own villa.

We hadn’t even set foot inside when a loud scream rocked me to the core, and we covered the last couple of yards in a flash.

Inside the bedroom, Odelia sat up, looking dazed. Next to her, I recognized one of the other seducers. I think his name was Fred.

Fred was grinning, even as Odelia was looking at him as if she’d just discovered dog poo on her shoe.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” she cried.

The anatomically gifted young man grinned even wider, then shrugged. “I just figured, with Mike out of the way… Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?”

“Wrong,” said Odelia decidedly, and slapped the guy across the face so hard the sound echoed through the room and made even me wince at the impact.

“Hey! What did you have to go and do that for!” Fred yelled.

“Out!” said Odelia. “Get out!”

“Hold your horses,” said the guy, but did as he was told. “If you didn’t want to hook up why did you sign up for the show?” he grumbled.

“Out!” she repeated, her voice ringing in my ears.

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said, and headed for the door. Before walking out, though, he turned and said, “This could have been a night you’d never forget, babe. Your loss.”

Odelia picked up the first object that was available and threw it across the room. Unfortunately for Fred it was the iron she’d used to iron her dress earlier in the evening. It hit the guy in the face with a clunking sound and he went down hard.

“Oops,” said Dooley, when the avid seducer didn’t come up.

“Looks like this will be a night he’ll never forget,” I said.

Just then, a loud gong sounded, reverberating through the room. It was the second gong of the night, and I had a sneaking suspicion it was triggered by the presence of Fred in Odelia’s bed. Even though nothing had happened—apart from him getting knocked out cold—according to the rules it was still a breach.

Looked like Odelia wasn’t going home with an extra 50.000 in her bank account.

Chapter 31

Vesta wasn’t exactly feeling on top of the world. In fact she was feeling at the bottom of the world, or at least the bed. Dust bunnies tickled her nostrils, and she wondered briefly if the dark shape she saw near the wall could be a dead cockroach or, worse, a live one.

The closet creaked open, and Scarlet loudly hissed, “He’s taking his sweet time, that grandson of yours!”

“He’s not my grandson yet!” she hissed back.

And she was starting to wonder if Chase was really worth the aggravation. He was a great guy, sure, but there were lots of great guys in the world. And if Chase and Odelia couldn’t be trusted with an island full of seducers and seductresses maybe their bond wasn’t to be and she was simply wasting her time trying to protect him from making a mistake.

Suddenly she heard the sound of voices approaching. “Get back in your closet, you!” she loud-whispered, and Scarlett did as she was told and closed the door again, but not before emitting an excited giggle. Clearly she was loving every minute of this.

The door to the villa opened, and she heard the telltale sound of shuffling feet. They’d arrived. Now all she needed to do was wait until they were both in bed and then she was going to pop out from underneath and give Chase a good talking-to.

“Ooh, Chase, you’re so sweet!” a woman cooed, and Vesta pressed her lips together.

“It’s Donna!” Scarlett said, opening the closet a crack. “I knew it!”

“Get back in there!” Vesta returned.

“Can I offer you something?” Chase was saying. “Wine, beer… something stronger?”

The son of a gun! Shamelessly liquoring up his conquest!

She had half a mind to crawl from under the bed and leave them to it. He didn’t deserve Odelia, that much was obvious.

The sound of voices continued, and as Vesta tried to pick up words, she was also keenly aware of the passage of time, as it seemed to take Chase an awfully long time to make his move. Unless he planned to conclude his business on the living room couch. She didn’t think so. Chase had always struck her as an old-fashioned kind of guy, and old-fashioned kind of guys still preferred bedding their conquests in their actual beds.

She must have dozed off, then, for when she woke up, the room was awfully quiet, and she wondered if she’d missed her window of opportunity.

She directed a glance at the closet, but of course she couldn’t see if Scarlett was still in there or not.

“Harriet!” she whispered, but Harriet was a no-show. “Brutus!” she tried, but once again there was no response.

Dang it. What was going on? Had she slept through the whole thing?

She decided to find out the only way she knew how: by checking the bed for signs of Donnas.

So she crawled from under the bed with some effort, probably covered in dust bunnies from head to toe, and raised her head to check the bed. There clearly was someone asleep in there, and possibly two.

Her face set, she took executive action and jumped into bed, intent on catching the lovers in the act.

“Gotcha!” she yelled.

“Eek!” Chase screamed.

“Gotcha!” Scarlett cried as she hopped into the bed from the other side.

“Eeeek!” Chase yelped, and turned on the light.

Vesta, blinking against the sudden blaze, searched around for Donna.

“Where are you hiding, you trollop!” she said. “Come out now!”

“Yeah, come out now!” Scarlett echoed, clearly having a ball.

“What are you doing?!” Chase said, looking startled as he wrapped the sheet closer to his chest, staring at the two old ladies having hopped into bed with him out of the blue.

“Where is she?” asked Vesta, wagging a menacing finger in the cop’s face.

“Yeah, where is the floozie?” asked Scarlett.

“What floozie? What are you talking about?!”

“Donna. I know you’re hiding her somewhere,” said Vesta.

“Donna? There is no Donna. I sent her home after her third martini and after pumping her for information on the missing women. She was best friends with one of them so I figured she might know what happened to her friend.”

Vesta stared at the guy, a little dumbfounded. “You mean you weren’t planning on sleeping with the woman?”

“What?! Of course not! I’m in love with Odelia. Why would I want to sleep with Donna?”

“Oops,” said Scarlett, making herself comfortable on her side of the bed.

“Yeah, oops,” said Vesta, also settling back against the backboard.

Then, as they sat side by side, two seductresses and one contestant, suddenly a loud gong sounded. It was the third gong of the night, this time announcing that one of the men had been unfaithful.

“I think that was your gong, Chase,” said Vesta, a little sheepishly.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Scarlett.

Chase heaved a deep sigh. “Guess I’m not going home with that big prize after all.”

“At least you found out something about the missing women, right?” said Gran.

“No. Donna didn’t know anything about that.”

“Too bad,” muttered Vesta.

“We’re famous now,” said Scarlett. “Most famous trio in the history of Passion Island.”

Chase groaned and buried his head in his hands.

Chapter 32

I was starting to get the sense that Passion Island wasn’t the kind of place a young and innocent mind like Dooley’s should necessarily be subjected to. People were jumping into bed left, right and center, and if they weren’t huffing and puffing under the cover of a single sheet they were hotting up the dance floor, or steaming gently in the sauna or coming to a slow boil in the jacuzzi. It’s one thing to be my friend’s keeper, but another to have to labor under circumstances that are a lot less than ideal.

So I had half a mind to tell Odelia to call the whole thing off and return to the safety and comfort of Hampton Cove, if it weren’t for the fact that Odelia is one of those people that hates to leave a job before it’s well and truly done.

She hadn’t yet gotten to the bottom of this baffling mystery of the disappearing women, and so prematurely leaving the island simply wasn’t in the cards.

Once again half the production crew had come running the moment they saw Fred take an iron to the noggin and go down for the count.

“What happened?!” Kimmy asked as she surveyed the scene.

“He tried to seduce me,” said Odelia simply.

Kimmy’s jaw dropped, then she spoke the immortal words, “Are you planning on taking out the entire field of seducers or do you want to leave a couple for the competition?”

“It was an accident,” Odelia explained, looking appropriately mortified.

“An accident is when you slip on a bar of soap,” said Kimmy. “This?” She gestured to the fallen seducer, who was being tended to by the team’s nurse. “This is overkill.”

Odelia winced at the mention of the word kill. “I’m sorry. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I guess I got a little upset, so I just reached for the first thing I could find.”

“Good thing it wasn’t a knife or he’d be dead.” Kimmy then broke into a wide grin. “I have to say I admire your touch, honey. If every guy who doesn’t take no for an answer took an iron to the head the world would be a better place. And a lot safer for women.”

“Did you hear that gong earlier?” asked Odelia. “Was that the men’s gong?”

Kimmy nodded. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, but I’m afraid the gong sounded for your boyfriend.”

“Oh, no!”

Kimmy’s smile didn’t diminish. Quite the contrary.

“Why are you smiling! Chase just cheated on me!”

“Technically, yes, but I think you’ll find that actually he didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he was caught in bed with your grandmother and your grandmother’s friend, and from what I understand it was all one big misunderstanding. They were trying to catch him in the act with Donna, and ended up getting caught in the act themselves—the act of giving him a tongue-lashing, that is.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. I saw it with my own eyes. The techies were laughing so hard they were practically rolling on the floor.” She rubbed Odelia’s back. “I gotta tell you, this is shaping up to be the most interesting season yet, and it’s all thanks to you and Chase.”

“Kimmy, can I ask you something?”

The production assistant turned serious. “Did you discover a lead?”

“Well, Jack claims that Joanna could be up to something.” And in a few words she explained what Jack had discovered.

“I’ll look into it,” Kimmy promised. “Keep up the good work—though try not to knock out all of our seducers. We still need them.”

Odelia sank down onto the living room couch, as we watched the nurse rub something under Fred’s nose. He woke up with a start.

“Wha-wha-wha…” he said, then caught sight of Odelia and his eyes widened considerably. “Get away from me!” he cried, scrabbling to his feet.

“Easy, buddy,” said the nurse. “Let me check those pupils.”

“She tried to kill me!”

“That’s what you get from crawling into a woman’s bed without being invited,” said the nurse, who was the stern and implacable kind. “Look into the little light. That’s it.”

And as she examined the guy, he kept darting nervous glances to Odelia, which told me he was A-okay. Apparently it took more than a blow to the head to give him pause. He did need stitches, though, which was a pretty gruesome sight to behold, I must say.

“So your gong was a false alarm, and Chase’s gong was a false alarm,” I told my human when all the hubbub had finally died down and it was just the three of us again. “Which means you still have a shot at winning this thing.”

“I’m not interested in winning this thing, Max,” said Odelia. “All I want is to figure out who’s kidnapping these women. And I’m still nowhere on that.” She yawned. “But tomorrow is another day, and maybe Kimmy will have some luck with Joanna so I’m not going to start despairing just yet. No, sir, I am not.”

And with these words, she stumbled into the bedroom, tumbled into the bed, and was soon snoring away like a lumberjack—a fine-boned, fair-haired lumberjack, that is.

And since Passion Island was oddly devoid of cats of any persuasion, and I didn’t feel like hanging out with the local creatures of the night, Dooley and I hopped onto the bed and turned in for the night as well.

Like Odelia said, tomorrow was another day, and maybe it would bring us closer to the truth.

And if it didn’t, there were still four seducers left for Odelia to take a whack at.

Chapter 33

It took our human some little while to get out of bed and ready for action. As I’ve indicated before, Odelia is never at her best in the early morning, and usually needs a strong dose of caffeine to get her system into gear. Now, after last night’s events, and less hours of sleep than is her custom, she looked like a shadow of her usual chipper self.

Still, her phone call with Chase was waiting, and she didn’t want to miss it for the world, so on her feet she was, and staggering toward the bathroom for a refreshing shower.

“At least today we won’t run into Scarface, aka Jack Davenport,” I told Dooley as I attended to my morning toilette, which consists of applying my raspy tongue to every part of my physique I’m able to reach, while Dooley did the same. He usually finishes quicker, as he doesn’t have quite as much acreage to cover. Or maybe his tongue is bigger.

“I wonder what Harriet and Brutus have been up to,” said Dooley, proving once again that members of a species are mainly interested in what members of the same species are up to. Cats like to know the latest gossip about other cats, and the same goes for humans.

“I believe Harriet isn’t interested in solving this mystery as much as securing herself a part in Cat Passion Island,” I said. “Though if she really thinks Clint is crazy enough to create a reality show featuring cats, God help poor Brutus.”

It just showed you how far my relationship with Brutus had progressed. When first we met, he’d been a grade-A bully, breezing into our lives with all the cockiness of a cop’s cat. Now, after having spent a couple of years as Harriet’s helpmeet, he was as docile as a newly born lamb, and even a little catpecked. Or a lot.

“I think Brutus would have preferred to be on this island,” said Dooley. “So he could hang out with us.”

“Too bad cats don’t swim,” I said. “Otherwise he could have made the passage and joined us.”

“And Harriet, too,” said Dooley.

“And Harriet,” I agreed after a pause. To be honest there are times when I can do without Harriet’s company. She’s a dear friend but can be a touch overbearing.

Odelia came out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her slender frame and another towel like a turban around her hair, and started going through her closet in search of something suitable to wear.

“No jogging today?” I asked, surprised.

“No, I’m frankly beat,” she said. “If anyone catches me I’ll tell them I’m going for my morning walk.”

It definitely suited me a lot better than the running thing. I really don’t see what’s so appealing about the concept of jogging. It makes one sweat profusely and turns one’s face beet-red. A very unhealthy habit, if you ask me, and even potentially deadly.

Finally having settled on a simple ensemble of jeans shorts, crop top and ball cap, we were off to find Chase at the end of our journey.

Once again, we passed through peaks and vales, languidly watched over by the island’s tallest mountain, named Khao Pom, and finally arrived at our destination without a hitch or a Scarface arresting our progress.

We all moved into the shack, and Odelia took out her phone and waited until the clock struck seven. On the dot, the gizmo started to vibrate happily.

“Hey, babe,” Chase’s sonorous voice sounded, and Odelia smiled.

“Hey, Chase. I missed you.”

“How are things going over there?”

“Pretty okay, though I managed to bean one seducer last night, and another was attacked by my cats. So I guess it’s two-nil for Team Odelia.”

“You beaned a seducer? Not the one you were gabbing with on the beach?”

“No, he was jumped by Max and Dooley. But how did you know I was talking to Mike on the beach?”

“Campfire,” said Chase curtly. “They made a big production of your tête-à-tête. So was it? A big deal, I mean?”

I could tell that Chase was trying to sound casual, but that watching Odelia chat up one of the seducers must have hit him hard.

“We were just talking,” said Odelia. “Mike isn’t interested in me, Chase. He’s engaged to be married and this is just a way for him to further his modeling career.”

Chase blew out a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad we have these daily phone calls. I don’t know what I’d do. They make it look as if you and this Mike are practically an item.”

“It’s what they do,” said Odelia, nodding. “It’s how they make people lose their heads and do foolish things they later regret.”

“I hate this show. I think there should probably be a law against this kind of thing.”

“So Kimmy tells me you and Gran and Scarlett had a great time last night?”

Chase uttered a groan. “Two seductresses in my bed, and a gong. My night was a big hit.”

“I got a gong, too, only my seducer needed stitches after the stunt he pulled.” And in a few words she regaled Chase with the story of seducer Fred and his injudicious initiative.

“Wait till I get my hands on that sneaky little—“

“He’s learned his lesson,” Odelia said with a laugh. “In fact I have a feeling the entire contingent of seducers will run a mile when they see me coming. Word spreads pretty fast around here.”

“Good,” said Chase decidedly.

The topic of seducers and seductresses exhausted, they turned the conversation to the topic of the missing women. And Odelia had just started telling Chase what Jack Davenport had said about Joanna, when suddenly a loud banging sound interrupted us.

The door to the shack flew open and revealed Clint Bunda, looking appropriately aggrieved, and accompanied by no less than two cameramen, both pointing their cameras at Odelia, who was holding the phone.

“Chase?” she said now. “I’m going to have to call you back.” She carefully hit the disconnect button, then sheepishly grinned at the producer. “Hi, Clint. You’re up early.”

Chapter 34

After the producer had confiscated her phone, and escorted her from the shack, he gave her a thorough dressing-down.

“I could have you sent away for this,” he growled, hands on his hips and looking like a disappointed parent. The words ‘I’m not angry but I’m disappointed’ clearly trembled on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” said Odelia, looking as contrite as she could manage. “I miss Chase, and these daily phone calls keep me going.”

“The whole point of the show is to keep you separated from your boyfriend!”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she repeated, hanging her head.

“Look, I’m going to give you a pass,” said Clint. “Just this once. And only because you’re our most popular contestant.”

Odelia looked up at this. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been posting snippets of the footage we’ve shot so far on social media and our YouTube channel, whetting the public’s appetite for the upcoming season, and your clips are consistently number one. In fact the clips of your cats clobbering Mike and you knocking out Fred have gone viral. People can’t wait to see you in action, Odelia!”

“Um, that’s great, I guess,” she said, not knowing exactly how to feel about this.

“So I want you to continue—but no more secret phone calls to the boyfriend, okay?”

“I promise, Clint. I’ll be good from now on.”

Unless Kimmy had another spare phone she didn’t have a lot of choice, did she?

“Listen,” he said as he placed a hand on her shoulder and started steering her away from the shack. “If you could keep this up, there might be a bonus in it for you.”

“Keep what up?” she asked.

“The public loves what you’re doing, so if you could do more of it, they’ll lap it up.”

“You mean knock out more seducers?”

“No, no, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, yeah, maybe. I don’t know. Just do what you do, and I’ll make sure you get the best coverage. I’m talking prime placement on the network’s website, paid ads, the works. If I’m not mistaken—and I rarely am—you’re going to be this season’s star, sweetheart. And we’re going to milk it for all it’s worth.”

She gave the producer a watery smile. She hadn’t exactly come to Thailand to be a star, and she had a feeling all this attention might even be detrimental to her chances of solving this case. Detectives rarely work well when placed under the limelight. Being in the shadows, unnoticed, working away in the background is more their thing.

“That’s great,” she said, without much excitement. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.” And with a pat on the back, he was off, leaving her to consider her new role as Passion Island’s rising star.

Max and Dooley had come trotting up, and they looked as surprised as she was.

“So you’re going to be a reality star now?” asked Max. “Like Kim Kardashian?”

“I doubt it,” said Odelia as she started the hike back to the resort at a slower pace than the producer, who’d already disappeared out of sight. “I’ll get my fifteen minutes of fame and that’ll be it. And a good thing, too. I don’t think I’d like that kind of scrutiny.”

“You could start your own show,” Dooley now suggested. “Keeping Up with the Pooles. I’m sure lots of people would be interested.”

“No, thanks,” said Odelia. “People don’t want to see me talking to my cats and sniffing around town for obscure clues and suspects.”

“Gran would like it,” said Max. “In fact I’m pretty sure she’d love it.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. But I’d hate to live my life under a magnifying glass, a bunch of people with cameras filming every second of it.”

“You do know that reality shows are completely scripted, right?” said Max. “You show the public whatever you want to show. None of it is even remotely real.”

“Still, I think I’ll pass,” she said. Just the thought of her family being on national TV gave her the creeps. Though, as Max had said, Gran would probably love it, and so would Harriet. “Look, we’re here to solve a case,” she reminded her feline friends. “Not to become famous. So let’s focus on figuring out what’s going on, shall we?” She had a jacuzzi meeting with the three other contestants scheduled after breakfast, and she hoped to pump her fellow candidates for information, especially Joanna.

“Maybe you can drop by the main villa again,” she suggested. “Keep your ears to the ground and see if you can’t pick up something valuable.”

“Will do,” said Max promptly.

It was too bad that she wouldn’t be able to coordinate her investigation with Chase, but that couldn’t be helped. She did wonder how Clint had found out. She’d been so careful. Then again, he might have simply decided to have her followed, in an attempt to get some extra footage of the show’s breakout star.

They’d arrived at the resort, and she decided to head straight to breakfast. She wanted to talk to Kimmy before the others arrived, and tell her what had happened.

She found Kimmy chatting to one of the servers. It was the production assistant’s task to make sure the candidates were being treated like royalty, and part of that task was to ensure they were properly fed.

She gave Kimmy a sign and the assistant immediately took the hint and came over.

“I just got busted,” she said under her breath, and explained how Clint had confiscated her phone.

“That’s bad,” said Kimmy. “That means they’ll probably send you home for breaking the rules.”

“No, they won’t. Apparently I’m too popular to kick me off the show.”

Kimmy’s eyebrows shot up. “Huh. That’s a first. Clint has never allowed anyone to get away with such a serious breach before.”

Odelia stared at the other woman. “He probably never kept a candidate after she incapacitated a seducer either, right?”

Kimmy slowly shook her head as the significance of Odelia’s words sunk in. “You think Clint himself could be involved?”

“You tell me. You’ve worked with the man for, what, six years?”

“He seems hell-bent to keep you in the show.”

“And everyone tells me I’m the spitting image of the five women who went missing.”

Kimmy flung a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes,” said Odelia, grim-faced. “It would be so easy for Clint to select a certain type of woman for his show.”

“And so easy to make them disappear.”

“But why? Why would Clint kidnap the contestants of his own show?”

“I have no idea. But I’ll tell you what. His wife is also blond and slender, so he’s definitely into the type.” Her face displayed a horrified expression. “Oh, God. I’m working for a pervert, aren’t I? He kidnaps women he likes and does whatever with them.”

“We don’t know that for sure, Kimmy,” said Odelia. “But I do know your boss makes for a very credible suspect.” She suddenly got an idea. “Can’t you, you know, sneak into his office and check his laptop or something?”

She didn’t mention Max had already sifted through the man’s emails and hadn’t found anything suspicious. But he’d only had a very narrow window of opportunity to work with. A more thorough search could reveal something incriminating.

Kimmy nodded, looking worried as she clasped her clipboard to her chest. “I’ll try to sneak a peek when he’s taking his after-lunch nap.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe this. Clint Bunda. A criminal.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” said Odelia, placing a comforting hand on the young woman’s arm. “We need proof before we start throwing around accusations. By the way, have you talked to Joanna yet?”

“No, haven’t had the chance.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“How will you bring up the subject?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll think of something.”

Chapter 35

Chase frowned at his phone, as if it had personally insulted him. All he could think was that another seducer must have thrown himself into Odelia’s arms to try and break down her defenses and in the process of fending him off she’d dropped her phone.

Odd, he felt. Ominous. And as he set foot for his villa, only a short walk from the beach where he liked to conduct these early morning phone calls that did so much to cheer him up, he was thinking dark thoughts of Mike and Fred and the other seducers.

He glanced in the direction of the other island, and not for the first time wondered if he shouldn’t brave the heaving seas and simply make the swim down there.

He was greeted at the breakfast table by Vesta and Scarlett, who looked a lot rosier and healthy than they had any right to, considering their age and lack of sleep.

“And? All is well on the women’s island?” asked Gran.

“She hung up on me,” he grumbled as he took a seat. “Probably trying to fend off more seducers. Those guys are on her like bees on a pot of honey.”

“So what about the gong?” asked Scarlett.

“And that second gong?” Gran added eagerly.

“First gong was for Jackie, the second was a false alarm. Odelia found a guy named Fred in her bed and kicked him out, then beaned him in the head with an iron. Guy needed seven stitches.” He smiled at this. For some reason the image of a seducer named Fred needing to be stitched up bucked him up in no small measure.

“Seven stitches?” said Scarlett, then whistled.

“Yeah, the guy wasn’t happy when she turned him down.”

“Remind me never to get on your granddaughter’s bad side,” said Scarlett.

“So you see?” said Vesta. “Nothing to worry about. Your fiancée can handle herself, like I always knew she would.”

“I feel like we’re wasting our time here,” said Chase as he directed a listless glance at Gary, Arthur and Nick, who looked like they hadn’t slept a wink last night. Probably too busy entertaining their respective seductresses. “The real action is over on the other island, not here. And Odelia is all alone, facing not only a gang of seducers but probably a dangerous criminal, too.” He slammed the table with his fist, causing his fellow contestants to look up in surprise. “I should be over there, dammit!” he growled.

“Odelia isn’t all alone. She’s got Kimmy,” said Vesta. “And she’s got Max and Dooley.”

“What good are two cats against an army of seducers and a kidnapper?!”

“I’ve known Odelia all her life,” said Scarlett now. “And if there’s one thing I know it’s that she can look after herself. Don’t you worry about her. She’ll nail that bastard.”

“And if you’re really that worried, we could always take the boat and pay her a visit,” Vesta remarked as she eyed her omelet suspiciously, as if expecting it to come alive.

Chase looked up at this. “Boat? What boat?”

“The same boat that brought us here,” said Vesta. “They make the trip every morning. Probably to bring in supplies and stuff. Is it just me or does this omelet smell funny?”

“It’s just you,” said Scarlett.

“Why didn’t you tell me before!” Chase cried.

“I thought you knew,” said Vesta, giving him an owlish look. “You’re the big detective guy, aren’t you? I always figure you know everything.”

Chase threw down his napkin. “Show me.”

“Not where there are cameras!” Scarlett said indignantly.

“The boat!”

“Oh.” the older lady sounded disappointed, then sighed. “Very well. Come along.”

“Where are they going?” asked Brutus as they watched Chase, Gran and Scarlett leave the breakfast table.

“Probably back to the villa for a conference,” said Harriet.

They were both lazily luxuriating on the edge of the dining room, which wasn’t a room as much as an area covered with a thatched roof supported by wooden beams.

Even though it was still early, the temperatures were already rising.

“This ocean breeze is so great,” said Harriet with a happy sigh. “I could get used to the climate. Rain is very bad for you, Brutus.”

“It is?” asked Brutus.

“Oh, sure. Bad for the bones, and joints, and probably a lot of other things, too.” She sighed again. “Maybe we could somehow convince Odelia to move to Thailand?”

“I think I’d miss Hampton Cove.”

This surprised Harriet, as Brutus hadn’t even known Hampton Cove existed a couple of years ago.

“You’d miss Hampton Cove?”

“Yeah, I would,” he confessed. “It may be rainy and cold in the winter, but it’s home. It’s where my friends are, and… my family.”

She smiled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Even though I can kick Shanille’s butt sometimes, and strangle Kingman with my bare paws, and I’m not even going to mention Clarice, who frankly scares the living daylights out of me half the time, it’s still home.” She looked up. “I kinda miss Max and Dooley. I mean, I know they’re only one island over, and we see them all the time, but I still kinda miss them being around, you know.”

“Yeah, me, too,” said her mate.

They were both quiet for a moment, then Brutus said, “I think I heard them say something about a boat. You don’t think they’re planning on leaving this island and ferrying over to the next one, do you?”

This had Harriet jerk up. “And leave us behind? Stranded? No way!”

“Pretty sure I heard the word boat.”

Harriet’s happy mood vanished. “Come, Brutus,” she said, and got up.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re catching that boat. If they think they can just leave us behind like this, they’ve got another thing coming.”

And then they were hot in pursuit of their treacherous humans.

Chapter 36

Walking back to her villa after breakfast to get changed, Odelia almost bumped into a chunky-looking individual with thick-rimmed glasses who made a strange bird-like sound. The moment she came face to face with him, he grimaced as if he were suffering from acute toothache, then scooted off in the direction of the staff villa.

And as she walked in, she caught a man crawling out of her bedroom window, looking flustered. He was carrying a small toolbox in one hand while he tried to negotiate the window with the other.

When she entered the bedroom, he froze, eyes wide, and broke into a stream of apologies.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Poole. I was just in here to fix one of the cameras. The one in the corner of the room. I’m not supposed to be caught by the contestants, or there will be hell to pay, so if you could please, pretty please, not tell Clint, I’d be so grateful. He doesn’t like it when the candidates are reminded this villa is chockablock with cameras in every nook and cranny, filming their every move, which is why we try to keep out of sight, but the darn feed dropped away this morning so I thought now would be a good time while you were having your breakfast.”

“It’s fine,” she said, laughing as she held up a hand to stem the flow of words. “I know you have a job to do, so just go ahead and do it.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Miss Poole,” said the man, who was skinny, and pale with pretty bad skin. “I hadn’t finished when my buddy gave me the alarm but I guess you were too quick for him.”

“Oh, so that’s what that was, huh? I was wondering why he would be making that strange sound.”

“It’s the sound of the hoopoe. I’ve been trying to teach him. I figured people wouldn’t notice when we used it. It’s the hoopoe’s mating cry,” he added helpfully as he crawled back in and made for the bed. Frowning, Odelia watched as he stepped on top of the bed and started unscrewing what looked like an innocent circular ornament from the ceiling.

“Is that… a camera?” she asked.

“Um, yeah. Offers a great view of the bed.”

“Oh, my God,” Odelia muttered.

“See, this is why Clint doesn’t want us in here when you guys are watching. He figures you might get upset when you realize how many cameras are rigged up in here.”

“Well, Clint is right. It is a little upsetting.”

“Fixed,” said the guy, sounding apologetic. “I’ll be out of your hair now, Miss Poole,” he added, and crawled down from the bed again. “Have a nice continuation of your day.”

And with these words, he was gone.

Odelia heaved a deep sigh, then headed to the bathroom to get changed for her jacuzzi date with the other contestants.

Now this was exactly why she didn’t want to become a reality star. She didn’t think she’d enjoy being scrutinized on a daily basis.

Walking out again, this time dressed in a bikini, she walked down the path on her flip-flops and headed for the spa area.

“Wait up!” suddenly spoke a voice behind her. Turning, she perceived it was Joanna, looking flustered.

“Ready for some jacuzzi fun?” asked Odelia.

“Not really,” said Joanna. “I woke up with a headache this morning and had half a mind to stay in bed today.”

“The jacuzzi will do you good,” said Odelia. “It might release some of the tension.”

The soft-spoken redhead fell into step next to her. “Is it true that you knocked out a seducer last night?” she asked, her eyes wide and wondering.

Odelia smiled and nodded. “I found him in my bed, if you can believe it.”

“Oh, I can. I found a seducer in my bed, too. I didn’t try to kill him, though I had a good mind to.”

“Who was it?”

“Antonio, the Italian stallion.”

“He’s very pushy, isn’t he?”

“They’re all pushy,” Joanna lamented.

“I guess it comes with the territory.”

“Don’t they realize that kind of behavior won’t get them anywhere? On the contrary, it’s a real turnoff for most women.”

“Not for everyone,” said Odelia as they passed Jackie’s villa.

“No, I guess not.”

“Listen, I happened to be talking to one of the techies this morning, and he told me you were caught cheating on Arthur.”

Joanna turned to her, looking shocked. “What?”

“Yeah, in Bangkok. He says you slipped out of bed in the middle of the night and went to visit another man in the next room.” It was a long shot, but she felt it might do the trick.

“I did not!” Joanna cried, indignant.

“So you didn’t crawl out of bed in the middle of the night?” asked Odelia pointedly. “Cause this guy swears up and down they filmed you.”

“They were filming us at the hotel?”

“Yeah, I guess they were.”

Joanna didn’t speak for a moment. She seemed to consider this. “Well, if they had caught me, don’t you think they’d have kicked me out of the competition even before it got started?”

“Good point,” Odelia agreed.

Joanna swallowed. “I did sneak out of bed that night, but not to visit another man.” She eyed Odelia keenly. “Promise you won’t tell Arthur?”

“I promise,” said Odelia.

“His thirtieth birthday is coming up, which is a big deal, and I’m organizing a surprise party. I’ve been making arrangements for weeks now. It’s supposed to take place when we get back from Thailand. I just wanted to make some final arrangements before they took away my phone. I’m arranging it with Arthur’s baby sister, and she can be a bit wishy-washy, so I wanted to have everything nailed down before we left.”

“Oh,” said Odelia, strangely elated. She’d quietly hoped Joanna was innocent.

“Arthur doesn’t suspect a thing. It’s going to be a big surprise. I even hired his favorite singer Jimmy Buffett, the Margaritaville guy.”

“That sounds great, Joanna,” said Odelia. “I think he’ll be thrilled.”

“Yeah, I hope so. It’ll be his last birthday before we tie the knot, and thirty is a big deal, right?”

“Oh, sure,” said Odelia. She was relieved Joanna wasn’t involved in some kidnapping ring, but also disappointed she’d lost another promising lead. It meant her only suspect now was Clint Bunda, the guy up top.

They’d arrived at the building where the spa was located and walked in. Tina and Jackie were already in the jacuzzi so they joined them. It would have been fun, having a soak with the contestants, if it hadn’t been for the three guys filming the whole thing.

How people managed to be spontaneous while being filmed was beyond her. There was probably a trick to it, but so far she hadn’t yet mastered it. And neither had the others, as the conversation was wooden and proceeded haltingly along familiar topics like the weather and the quality of the seducers.

And all the while Odelia’s mind kept drifting back to Clint.

His words to her that morning suddenly sounded more ominous than before: how she was his new star now. His favorite.

In other words, ripe to be kidnapped!

Chapter 37

As Odelia had instructed, Dooley and I snuck into the villa where the production team had set up shop, and started snooping around. Frankly I didn’t have high hopes that this time would be different than last time we’d inspected this place. Then again, the work of a detective, even a feline one, often consists of small repetitive tasks, not unlike that of a gold digger, who keeps sifting mud until finally one day he hopes to strike gold.

“Do you really think Clint is our guy?” asked Dooley.

Odelia had intimated the producer was her most likely suspect, and for us to look at him with renewed attention.

“I don’t know, Dooley, but he is the one who ultimately selects the candidates, so if he’s the kidnapper, that would make sense in that he can personally guarantee he’ll get what he wants.”

“But why would a man kidnap so many women, and all of them so similar? What does he do with them?”

I wasn’t prepared to lay it all out for him. It was obvious, though, what a man like Clint would do with all of those women. At least if he was the kind of man Odelia thought he was.

And as we walked into the villa, once again we passed the control room.

“Is it fixed?” asked the man named Frank.

“Yeah, it’s fixed all right,” said Rick. “No thanks to you, though. You couldn’t have given me the signal sooner, could you? She caught me crawling out the window.”

“She surprised me! She’s a fast walker.”

“You were probably playing Pokémon on your phone again,” Rick said as he surveyed the wall of screens.

Every single one of the screens was now displaying the jacuzzi, and as I watched in surprise, I saw that most of them were featuring one particular candidate: Odelia. That’s what you probably get when suddenly you’re deemed the star of the show.

Rick’s phone started belting out a tune. I recognized it as the same sound he’d produced before: the mating call of the hoopoe. The guy really had a thing for birds.

We decided to leave them to it. We had other fish to fry, so we repaired upstairs, and once again tried every door until we found one that was unlocked. Soon we were out on the balcony, traipsing past room after room.

“Maybe we should search every room,” Dooley suggested.

“Odelia told us to focus on Clint,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but what if Clint is innocent? Odelia has been wrong before.”

He was right. Odelia has been wrong more times than she’s been right. So I shrugged and we entered the first room we found. If we were going to do this, we might as well go about it in a methodic fashion.

The first room told me that whoever stayed there was not a fan of cleanliness and hygiene, as the place was a big mess. Clothes were strewn about all over the place, wet towels covered the furniture, candy wrappers littered the floor, and in all of that mess there wasn’t a single sign of a laptop, cell phone or tablet computer. Probably the guy or gal who occupied the room liked to keep these possessions close to their person.

We did find a crumpled up note in the wastepaper basket. It appeared to be some kind of sweepstakes: the names of all of the candidates had been written on the left, and on the top of the page a series of names I didn’t recognize, except for Rick and Frank. Underneath these names, scores had been awarded each candidate. When tallied, Odelia’s name had received the highest score.

“This is a little thick,” I said when the significance of the document hit me. “These people are actually holding a wager, presumably putting money on the contestants.”

“You mean they’re gambling on the show’s outcome?” asked Dooley, surveying the document.

“Looks like it,” I said. “And Odelia’s name is at the top of the list. Meaning they figure she’ll probably succumb to the wiles of the seducers more likely than the others.”

“Was this before or after she hit Fred in the head?” asked Dooley pointedly.

I smiled. “Probably before. Looks like this person, whoever he is, lost a great deal of money betting on her to fall for Fred’s charms.”

“Or Mike’s charms,” Dooley added as he took a tentative sniff at a piece of underwear, then crinkled up his nose when its sheer rankness hit him.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said. “Plenty of rooms to check and only so much time.”

Unfortunately that first room was a harbinger of things to come. It soon became clear that every single member of Clint’s team engaged in betting on the candidates’ likeliness to fall for this or that seducer or seductress, and the pool must have been a pretty large one, judging from the numbers scribbled on the documents we found in most rooms. It was also the only clue we found, and not the kind of clue we were looking for. And when finally we made our way to Clint’s room, the man in charge, we were none the wiser.

We snuck into the big guy’s room and were surprised to see it occupied by none other than… Kimmy, eagerly going through the man’s personal affairs. She didn’t see us come in, as we treaded as softly and surreptitiously as usual, but we saw her clear as day as she dug through Clint’s laptop, darting anxious glances at the door from time to time.

“What is she doing?” asked Dooley as we hunkered down behind a chair near the window.

“Spying on her boss,” I said.

She probably shouldn’t have done that, for at that moment footsteps sounded in the corridor, and suddenly the door swung open and Clint walked in.

Kimmy, an athletic lass, leaped behind the bed, then rolled underneath before Clint caught sight of her. And as she did so, she saw us looking at her, and pressed her index finger to her lips. I nodded once, which appeared to surprise her greatly.

“Now where did I leave the darn thing,” Clint muttered as he rooted around his desk. “Ah, there it is,” he murmured as he grabbed his laptop. His phone chimed as he opened the door.

“Who is this?” he boomed after a moment’s pause. “Her uncle! A cop! Are you kidding me!”

He closed the door again and started pacing the room.

“No, I didn’t know Odelia Poole’s uncle was a cop. Someone could have told me!” he said, still speaking in that booming voice of his.

The person on the other end must have said something to upset him, for suddenly he sank down on the bed, making it creak. “She did what?!” he bellowed.

“Uh-oh,” I said. “Looks like Odelia’s cover is blown.”

“We have to do something, Max!” said Dooley. “Clint is going to try and grab her!”

Dooley was right, so we snuck from behind the chair posthaste, then out onto the balcony.

We had to warn Odelia before it was too late!

Chapter 38

Odelia had just stepped out of the jacuzzi when there was a sort of commotion nearby. When she glanced over, she saw that Max and Dooley were running full tilt in her direction, but so were Clint and Kimmy. All of them were screaming something she couldn’t quite catch.

“What’s going on?” asked Tina. “Why are your cats being chased by Clint?”

“Probably stole a fish,” Jackie sneered. “Isn’t that what cats do? Steal things?”

Obviously Jackie didn’t know Max and Dooley very well, Odelia thought. And then she caught what her cats were yelling.

“He knows!” Max cried. “Clint knows about you!”

“Oh, darn,” she muttered, and blinked. Clint wouldn’t dare grab her with all these witnesses around, would he? There was a reason those women had only been kidnapped after their return from Passion Island. So she decided to bear the brunt of the man’s displeasure bravely.

“Help me out here, girls,” she said. “I think Clint is about to blow his top.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” said Tina. “We’ve got your back.”

“Yeah, us girls have to stick together,” said Joanna.

Only Jackie wasn’t in a solidarity frame of mind. “What did you do?” she asked.

But then Clint was upon them, and he was looking like a steam engine about to explode.

“You’re a cop!” he screamed accusingly. “You’re a damn cop!”

“No, I’m not a cop,” said Odelia calmly as she came face to face with the women snatcher. “But my uncle is, and he’ll be very interested to know what kind of operation you’re running here, Mr. Bunda.”

“Oh, so now suddenly it’s Mr. Bunda, huh?” He grabbed Odelia’s arm. “Come. All of you. You, too, Kimmy.”

“Yes, sir,” said Kimmy quietly.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” said Odelia defensively as she yanked her arm free from the man’s grasp.

“I’ve got them all lined up and we’re going to get to the bottom of this thing once and for all,” said Clint.

“Lined up who?” asked Tina.

“All of my people, who do you think? One of them must be involved in this thing, and I wanna know who. I wanna know who’d betray me like this!” he screamed, raising his fists to the sky and shaking them violently.

The man was losing it, Odelia thought, and she was starting to get a little scared.

But Clint was already heading back to the main villa, and Kimmy was shrugging her shoulders. She clearly didn’t see a way out either.

“Where’s the boat?” asked Odelia. “There’s got to be a boat we can take to get off the island.”

“It’s not what you think it is, Odelia,” said Kimmy, quite surprisingly. “Your uncle called Clint just now, telling him the whole story.”

“What?!” Odelia cried.

“Yeah, I was hiding under the bed, and I heard the whole thing. Alec even told him about my involvement. He says he’s found the women.”

“My uncle has found them?”

“Apparently the FBI got wind of the affair and got in touch with Alec, and together they managed to convince the families that something very bad was going on. They finally managed to track down all five women. They’re safe now.”

“But… Clint?”

“Clint’s got nothing to do with it. But someone on the team does. And he’s going to try and figure out who it is.”

Odelia glanced down at her cats, who both shrugged. “Okay,” she finally said, and joined Kimmy and the other three women in pursuit of Clint, whom they could hear screaming all the way to the jacuzzi as he made his way back to the main house.

“What’s all this about kidnapped women?” asked Joanna.

“I’ll explain later,” said Odelia.

“You’re a cop?” asked Jackie, sounding distinctly unhappy.

“No, I’m a reporter.”

“I asked Odelia to come and look into a possible kidnapping ring centered around Passion Island,” Kimmy explained, drawing gasps of shock from the other three women.

But by then they’d arrived at the villa, where Clint was pacing in front of his collected staff, all gathered in front of the main house.

“Someone here has been working against me!” he announced. “One of you has decided to use my show—MY SHOW—for nefarious purposes! And I want you to step forward right now and reveal yourself!”

Odelia had crossed her arms in front of her and stood watching the scene with some trepidation. She didn’t know what to think. She’d figured Clint was the man behind the kidnapping ring, but apparently her uncle didn’t think he was, and Uncle Alec was a smart cookie, so he probably had his reasons.

“No one?” asked Clint. “All right. So be it.” He picked his phone from his pocket and quickly dialed a number.

“What’s happening?” asked Tina, as bewildered as the rest of the small crowd that had gathered in the rising sun.

“No idea,” said Odelia truthfully.

“Alec? Yeah, nobody’s talking. So you do as we arranged. Yeah, you place that call now.” He disconnected, then let his gaze rake across the faces of his people, none too friendly. If looks could kill, they’d all have fallen to the ground, dead.

Suddenly, a ringtone pierced the silence—it was the sound of birdsong.

“You’re busted!” Clint bellowed. “Busted!”

Everyone looked around with consternation written all over their features, as Clint dove into the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea before Moses. And there, on the ground, was a phone, buzzing away, still blasting out a steady whoop-whoop-whoop.

Clint picked it up. “Who does this phone belong to! Who, dammit!”

Eyes swiveled, and heads turned left and right, but whoever the phone belonged to didn’t make themselves known, causing Clint to stomp the ground like a petulant child. “Reveal yourself!” he demanded heatedly.

“It belongs to Rick,” said Max. “I’d recognize that ringtone anywhere.”

“It belongs to Rick,” Odelia echoed.

“Oh, crap,” the pale techie muttered, and suddenly broke into an awkward run!

“Stop!” Clint screamed. “Stop that man!”

But since everyone was gathered around him, there was no one left to stop Rick, as the skinny techie disappeared around the bend.

“After him!” Clint ordered. “Whoever catches that bastard gets a fat bonus!”

As one man, all of those gathered now moved off in a minor stampede, all in pursuit of the man named Rick, whom Odelia had recognized as the guy who’d installed a camera right above her bed.

She joined the runners, as did everyone else. No one wanted to miss the grand finale to this very strange and unexpected drama. Even the cameramen, who’d dutifully filmed the entire scene, broke into a jog, and kept right on filming.

They finally arrived at a small dock, where a boat was moored. Rick, who had secured himself a nice head start, was already climbing aboard, and throwing off the moorings.

“He’s getting away!” Clint cried. “Stop him!”

But it was obvious they’d never get there in time. As they neared, Rick was pushing the boat away from the dock, and had started up the engine. He was going to make a clean getaway while they all watched.

And he was waving at them, looking pretty triumphant, when suddenly a second boat appeared out of nowhere. And as Rick was looking in their direction he never noticed the other boat sailing alongside and a tall, lanky figure leaping from boat to boat, like a regular Jack Sparrow, though minus the funky eyeliner.

“It’s Chase!” Odelia cried happily, and she now saw two more familiar figures on this second boat: Gran and Scarlett!

“Gotcha!” Clint yelled, shaking his fist. “Well done, son! Well done!”

Chase had managed to capture the errant technician, and was now steering the boat back to the dock, leaving the other boat drifting aimlessly, and Gran and Scarlett looking a little ill at ease at the prospect of soon becoming prey to the Gulf of Thailand’s relentless currents and ending up in the Philippines.

But before long, several people had jumped into the water, and were making their way over to assist Chase in subduing Rick, while others swam over to the second boat and managed to bring it to the dock in next to no time, no doubt earning them a debt of gratitude, and a kiss from Scarlett, the oldest seductress in Passion Island’s history.

“Why!” cried Clint as soon as Rick had been brought safely to shore. “Why did you do it!”

Rick shrugged, and didn’t look entirely happy, faced with a minor mob and several cameras pointed at his pockmarked face. “For the money, what do you think?”

“So you’re behind this kidnapping business?” asked Chase.

“I’m just a minor cog in a big wheel,” said Rick. “I’m the guy who sends the footage, and arranges for the personal information of the candidates to be sent to the potential buyers.”

“Potential buyers?” asked Clint, making a powerful effort not to smack the man in the face.

“Yeah, you’d be surprised how many people out there are willing to pay through the nose for the privilege of acquiring one of Passion Island’s contestants,” said Rick. “I’m talking millions.”

“People are buying Passion Island contestants?” asked Tina, shocked.

“Yeah, five of them,” said Chase.

“They’ve all been found,” Clint assured them. “And I swear I didn’t have a clue.”

“You could have taken the reports that those women were missing a little more seriously, though,” said Kimmy accusingly.

Clint, perhaps for the first time in his life, contrived to look moderately contrite. “Yeah, I probably should have done that little thing,” he confessed.

“Instead you wanted to keep the show running, and didn’t care one hoot that you were putting people in danger,” Kimmy continued.

“I didn’t know, okay!”

“So who are these buyers?” asked Odelia.

Rick shrugged. “Russian oligarchs, Arabian billionaires, Chinese mobsters… Passion Island isn’t just wildly popular with your regular audience, but with the criminal element, too, and those with enough money to burn decided they wanted a piece of the action—literally—and so a couple of very enterprising people set up a business to give them what they wanted.”

“This is sick,” said Joanna, looking nauseous.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” said Clint. “They only targeted blondes. Like Odelia.”

Chase then strode forward and gave the producer a single punch to the face. It was enough to land the man on the sandy ground, wondering who’d turned off the lights.

Loud cheers and applause broke out amongst Clint’s staff.

Apparently the man wasn’t as popular as he thought—nor as free of responsibility in the drama that had just unfolded.

Next to Odelia, Tina heaved a little sigh. “I guess this is the end of Passion Island.”

“I think so,” Odelia admitted.

Tina broke into a smile. “Good. I was fed up with being stalked by seducers anyway.”

Chase walked up to Odelia, and grabbed her into his arms for a bone-crushing hug.

“I missed you, babe,” he breathed passionately.

“And I missed you,” she said.

And then they kissed, and more applause broke out.

They might not have won that fifty grand, but they had caught their guy.

Epilogue

“I’ve never been contacted by the FBI before,” said Uncle Alec, sounding particularly proud of the fact. “So when they told me they’d freed the women and arrested the bad guys, all I needed to do was call Clint Bunda and get him to play ball. The feds had the number of the kidnappers’ contact on the island but didn’t have a name, so I placed the call, and the rest is history.” Next to him, Charlene Butterwick was beaming, clearly proud of her man, as evidenced by the fact that she kept patting his hand.

“You did a wonderful thing, Alec,” said Hampton Cove’s mayor. “A wonderful, wonderful thing.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Uncle Alec, modestly plucking an imaginary piece of lint from his polo shirt. “Some people call me a hero, others call me a savior. I just like to think I did my duty, same as anyone would.”

We were finally home again, after a long journey, and not a moment too soon. Traveling by plane and car, I was happy to be back, and so were my friends.

Harriet and Brutus, who’d risked life and limb by traveling on that boat with Chase and Gran and Scarlett, had had the scare of a lifetime when Chase had steered the vessel straight into Rick’s boat. For a moment, Harriet had told me, she’d feared the boat would be lost with all hands—and paws. Luckily that hadn’t happened, but she’d been happy to feel terra firma under her shaky paws, that’s for sure.

As for Rick, he’d been collected by the police and locked up with the rest of the human traffickers. The women had been freed from the clutches of the rich men who’d had them snatched for their own personal enjoyment, and justice had finally prevailed.

As far as Passion Island was concerned, the network had decided to take the show off the air, as well as every other reality show like it. Lawyers would presumably have a field day working out culpability, as the families of all five women had decided to sue.

“It’s a pity that they canceled the show, though,” said Gran, offering the contrarian view as usual. “I think it had potential. Especially with Scarlett and myself on board.”

“Yeah, I think we could have taken that show to the next level,” Scarlett agreed, as she subjected the sausage Tex had deposited on her plate with a touch of suspicion. Like the proverbial pit, it was black from pole to pole, and didn’t look fit for human consumption.

Tex and Marge had returned from their trip the moment they heard what danger their daughter had escaped from. They’d missed a big chunk of their European vacation, but had vowed to make up for it next year, turning this travel bug into a regular thing.

“If I’d known how much trouble you were putting yourself in I’d never have allowed you to go through with it,” Marge said censoriously, clucking like a worried mother hen. “Promise me you’ll never put yourself in danger like that again, Odelia. Promise me now.”

“I promise,” said Odelia, but I could see she was crossing her fingers behind her back.

“What is she doing, Max?” asked Dooley, gesturing to the strange custom.

“She’s lying to her mother,” said Harriet. “Making promises she won’t keep.”

“You mean she’d go through the Passion Island ordeal again?” asked Dooley, surprised. “Willingly?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Brutus. “Let’s face it, though. She was never in any danger.”

We’d all heard the reports of the unmarked vans snatching the five other women off the street, their takers setting up an elaborate ruse to make the families believe they were all right—four to get married to the men of their dreams, the fifth on a spiritual kick. What had tipped off the FBI was that one of the women had managed to escape, and had started a chain of reactions leading to the arrest of Rick on Passion Island.

Tex, working relentlessly at the grill, was happily flipping burgers like a pro again, providing his family sustenance. If anything, though, his very particular set of skills was getting worse, which seemed impossible. Usually humans get better with practice, but not our good doctor Poole. Still, he was clearly having a ball, and that’s all that matters.

“So when is the show coming out?” asked Scarlett now. “I can’t wait to see myself in action.” She preened a little as she spoke the words.

“The show isn’t coming out, sweetheart,” said Gran. “The show has been canceled. As in buried deep within the archives of the network, never to be seen again, except maybe by wizened old scholars working on a dissertation on reality show history.”

“But… what about all that footage?”

“Buried. Deep,” said Gran. “Like Indiana Jones’s Ark of the Covenant.”

“So I worked my seductive ass off for nothing?!” cried Scarlett, visibly upset.

“The joy is not in reaching your destination, but in the journey,” said Charlene, earning herself a scathing look from Scarlett and wisely shutting up. A good politician knows when to speak, but also knows when to be quiet.

“I’m glad Odelia wasn’t kidnapped,” said Dooley. “I don’t think she would have liked to spend time with a Russian oligarch, an Arabian billionaire or a Chinese mobster. And I don’t think we would have liked it either.”

“They wouldn’t have kidnapped us, Dooley,” Harriet said. “They would have snatched Odelia, not her cats.”

“But… they’d have simply left us behind?” He looked shocked at the prospect.

“These people aren’t exactly cat lovers, Dooley,” said Brutus. “Probably they like dogs, though. Big, mean, tough canines. Not sweet pussies like you and me.”

“Or me,” said Harriet.

“Or me,” I said, nodding.

Dooley shivered visibly. “Imagine. Having to spend time with a mean dog when you’re a cat person like Odelia. The horror.”

I shared a look with Brutus and Harriet, and we were in silent agreement that we weren’t going to tell Dooley that when being kidnapped by a human trafficker to be traded to a rich pervert having to spend time with dogs probably wasn’t the worst part.

Instead, I snapped a piece of steak out of the air that Odelia threw me. She’d already cut off the burnt parts, and had saved only the succulent center. I nodded my thanks and gulped the whole thing down eagerly.

For a moment, only the sound of chewing filled the air, as four cats devoured their portions. Then, Harriet said, “You know? Being on Passion Island has really made me think.”

“Oh?” I said, swallowing with relish.

She gave me a sweet smile. “I missed you guys. I mean, I know we don’t always get along. And I know I can be something of a pain in the patootie sometimes—“

“Oh, no,” I began to say, but she stopped me with a gesture of her paw.

“No, it’s true, Max. But deep down you know that I love you guys, right?”

I nodded, swallowing again, only this time it wasn’t a tasty morsel of meat but a lump in my throat.

“I love you guys, too,” said Brutus a little gruffly. “And if you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

“I love you guys so much!” said Dooley, sniffling unabashedly.

And thus ended our Thai adventure. And as a mild summer rain suddenly started falling from the sky, instigating a mad dash for the great indoors from all those present, and a mad scramble from Tex to safeguard his grill, I smiled. After the sweltering heat of the Thai isles, and the hair-raising antics of Passion Island producers, a light drizzle was just what we all needed.

And when I jumped off the porch swing and padded into the backyard, to sample some of that soft rain on my skin, I was accompanied by my three friends. The scent of summer and fresh grass tickled my sense of smell, and I whooped with joy. The humans, all ensconced on the porch now, probably thought we were crazy, but for once we defied the old adage that cats hate to get wet.

I was getting soaked and I loved it.

Home sweet home!

A Purrfect Gnomeful

The Mysteries of Max - Book 24

Chapter 1

In spite of the fact that it was a glorious morning—one of those mornings that makes you happy to be alive—I was brooding. Yes, brooding. Now I know what you’re going to say. Why would a cat who has everything his little heart desires be spending precious time brooding, when he could use that time to rejoice and count his blessings instead? Well, I’ll tell you why. Or in fact I might as well show you. Show, not tell, right?

Here, let me take you by the hand and accompany you from my perch on the couch to the kitchen. Do you see that fridge? That’s my human Odelia’s fridge. And do you see the trail of leftovers leading all the way from the kitchen to the living room and beyond?

Mice did that. Or more specifically, the colony of mice that has been using our basement as its refuge, and our fridge as its main source of nourishment.

I could also point out the fact that my bowl was now devoid of kibble, and so were the bowls of my friends Dooley, Harriet and Brutus. Or I could have led you into the pantry, where Odelia and her boyfriend Chase like to stock their stuff, and which was also a mess now.

The thing is, I recently negotiated a peace treaty with the mice, ceasing all hostilities, and in exchange Hector and Helga gave me their solemn word they wouldn’t treat the house as their personal Walmart. Unfortunately it would appear they had a hard time keeping their offspring in check, and the upshot was that both Odelia and Chase were starting to lose their patience… with me!

Yes, the mice were misbehaving, but yours truly was taking the rap.

That’s what you get when social media is filled with story after story extolling the so-called mouse-capturing capabilities of your common domestic short-haired feline.

Fake news, I say, and it’s high time the owners of those social media sites did something to stem the flow of this false and frankly misleading information.

No, not every cat is a ruthless killer.

No, not every cat likes to eat mice for breakfast.

And no, not every cat is a Tom, eager to catch himself a Jerry.

So I watched the carnage and heaved a deep sigh. I’d been out last night, you see. Cat choir, if you must know. And by the time I got back, Hector and Helga’s offspring obviously had been at it again.

The pet flap flapped and Dooley walked in. When my friend caught sight of my careworn expression, he immediately came tripping over, concern written all over his features.

“Max!” he said, a generous dose of sympathy lacing his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you really have to ask?” I asked.

He studied me for a moment, then nodded seriously. “It’s cancer, isn’t it? Don’t worry, Max, we’ll find you the best doctor money can buy.”

I stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s just like in that movie I saw last night with Gran. About a man who only has three months to live. And he looked just like you. Round-faced and orange, I mean. I cried a lot. Gran didn’t. But then Gran never cries, except when one of her soap stars dies.”

I held up a paw, for Dooley has a tendency sometimes to go off course. “About that man. The one who looked like me. And by the way I’m not orange, Dooley—I’m blorange. And I’m not round-faced—I’m just naturally furry. So what happened with that man?”

“Oh, when all else failed his dear old mammy advised him to try laughter therapy. And it worked! He laughed himself back to health, Max, and I’m sure you can, too. So start laughing and start healing.”

I shook my head. I’m sure Dooley meant well, but laughter therapy wasn’t going to solve the mice issue.

“A priest, a rabbi and a hippopotamus walk into a bar,” said Dooley, undeterred. “The hippopotamus says, ‘What does a hippopotamus have to do to get a drink around here?’ And the bartender replies, ‘Find religion!’” He laughed loudly, but when I didn’t join him, he stopped. “Max, you have to laugh. You’re my best friend and I don’t want you to die.”

“I’m not going to die in three months, Dooley.”

“You could die in one month. The guy in the Lifetime movie didn’t know he was going to die at first. It was only when he lost feeling in his patootie that he figured something was wrong.” He gave me a slight tap on the patootie. “Can you feel that?”

“Yes, I can feel that. And the reason I’m not my usual sunny self is not because I only have three months to live but because the mice made a terrible mess again last night, and the moment Odelia walks down those stairs she’s going to be very upset with me.”

“Why? It’s not your fault the mice are making a mess, Max,” he pointed out, and very sensibly, too, I thought. But I was afraid Odelia wasn’t going to see it that way.

“Yes and no. Rightly or wrongly she feels that with a house full of cats she shouldn’t have to worry about a mice infestation.”

Just then, and right before our eyes, two small mice came tripping past us into the kitchen. Moments later they returned, both carrying large chunks of cheese. When they saw us gaping at them, the first mouse, presumably the leader of this small battalion, gave us a toothy grin and said, “Hiya, fellas. Almost forgot I dropped this last night.”

“You’re not supposed to do that, you know,” I said, righteous indignation making me quiver. “It’s not okay.”

The mouse took a nibble from the cheese. “Tastes okay to me, bud.”

“No, I mean—it’s not okay that you would steal my human’s food.”

“It’s not stealing when it’s just lying around,” argued the mouse, whose brother or sister had already disappeared down the basement stairs. “In fact your human should thank us. If not for us this cheese would go to waste. At least now it’ll end up feeding at least a dozen…” He took another big bite. “Or half a dozen…” He devoured the last of the cheese. “Well, at least one mouth.” He glanced back to the kitchen, clearly still hungry.

“Don’t you dare,” I said, taking a step closer.

The mouse held up its tiny paws. “All right, all right. Cool your jets, you big pussy. The way I see it? Us mice provide a vital and important service.”

“And what service would that be?”

“This place could be crawling with beetles and roaches. Can you imagine?” He gave us a cheeky wink. “Think about that.” And with a cheerful wave of the paw, he was off.

After a moment’s silence, as I slowly came off the boil again, Dooley said, “He’s right, you know. If not for Hector and Helga and their kids Odelia’s house could be swarming with beetles and roaches. And maybe even spiders and other creepy crawlies.”

It was a point to take into consideration, though secretly I doubted whether Odelia would take this benign view.

Just then, the pet flap flapped again, and Harriet and Brutus came walking in, both looking highly perturbed.

“Something needs to be done,” said Harriet, a gorgeous white Persian. “This simply cannot go on.”

“But they keep out the beetles and the roaches,” I pointed out, earning myself a look of confusion.

“What are you talking about, Max?”

“The mice. I’m starting to think they just might be one of those necessary evils you hear so much about.”

Harriet tsk-tsked freely, and shook her head. “I’m not talking about the mice, Max. I’m talking about the gnomes.”

“Someone stole Tex’s gnomes last night,” Brutus said. He’s Harriet’s mate, and a butch black cat of particularly shiny hue.

I silently wished that whoever had stolen Odelia’s dad’s gnomes would steal Odelia’s mice instead, but obviously Harriet didn’t share my preoccupation with the murine colony.

She frowned, and so did Brutus, clearly thinking hard thoughts about the gnome thief, while I was frowning because of my recent encounter with one of Hector and Helga’s offspring. The only one who wasn’t frowning was Dooley. And to show us his mind was otherwise engaged, he suddenly burst out laughing, then said, “Stop me if you’ve heard this one before, but a priest, a rabbi and a donkey walk into a bar.”

And he probably would have gone on to tell us all about this exciting event, if not the glass sliding door had slid open and Gran walked in, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Where’s Odelia?” she asked.

“Still in bed,” I said. “Why?”

“Odelia!” Gran bellowed at the foot of the stairs. “Get down here now!” And her eyes shining, she announced, “The crime of the century has just been committed, so Scarlett and I are launching a neighborhood watch, and I want you guys to join us!”

Chapter 2

“What are we looking at here?” I asked.

Gran had led us into Tex and Marge’s backyard and triumphantly waved her arm at… nothing in particular. The lawn could use a trim, and the big cherry tree probably needed pruning, but apart from that I saw no sign of anything out of the ordinary.

“Can’t you see?” asked Gran, her voice rising as it often did when she was in the throes of excitement. “They’re gone!”

“Who’s gone, Gran?” asked Dooley.

“The gnomes! Someone took the gnomes!”

“Oh, the gnomes,” I said, deflating a little. Why did everyone and his grandmother keep harping on about gnomes, when it was mice that were the main issue here.

“Yes, Max, the gnomes,” said Harriet. “Why, isn’t this mystery big enough for you? Or important enough to occupy your highly intelligent mind?” Since she made air quotes and rolled her eyes, I guess she didn’t think all that highly of my mind—such as it was.

“No, it’s not that,” I was quick to assure her. “It’s just that…”

“Max has mice on the brain,” Dooley explained.

“Oh, God, when are you going to stop talking about your mice!” Harriet cried, even going so far as to stomp her paw on Tex’s semi-smooth lawn.

“They’re not my mice,” I said. “And they pose a big problem. They keep eating our stuff.”

“Probably because they ran out of beetles and roaches,” Dooley said, nodding in my direction. “Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Look, can you guys please focus on the problem at hand?” Gran said, starting to get a little impatient. All this talk about mice and roaches clearly wasn’t gripping her. “This is a serious problem and I think it’s the perfect first case for our neighborhood watch, of which I’m the founding mother and you’re now the founding cats.”

I didn’t really want to be the founding cat of anything, but I had the distinct impression I didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. When Gran’s mind is made up about something it’s very hard to dislodge the idea.

“I’m also nominating Scarlett, of course,” she said. “And maybe Rock and Dick.”

“What’s the big to-do?” asked Marge, stepping into the backyard from the house. She was dressed in her dressing gown and looking a little disheveled, with bed hair and sleep wrinkles on the side of her face. Like her daughter Odelia, Marge is fair-haired and slim, and a genuinely good and kind person. Her eyes now widened as she took in the backyard, and she actually clutched the sides of her head. “Oh, no—the gnomes!”

“Yes, the gnomes,” said Gran grimly. “Tex is not going to be happy.”

“Happy about what?” asked Tex, as he joined the conference. He dragged a hand through his white mane as he took in the crowd that had gathered in his backyard. He was smiling, probably the only member of the Poole family who’s always in a happy mood, even when just having rolled out of bed and not having had his morning coffee.

“Your gnomes, Tex,” said his wife of twenty-five years. “Someone took your gnomes.”

Tex’s amiable face fell, and his lower jaw drooped. “My gnomes!” he cried. “Oh, no!”

Honestly I couldn’t really see what all the fuss was about, but then humans often develop these strange attachments to inanimate objects. And it was just such a case with Tex, who’d suddenly gotten it into his nut that collecting garden gnomes was a good idea. I didn’t see the attraction, and even found the colorful little fellas slightly creepy, but humans will be humans, and clearly gnomes held a certain kind of strange fascination, as Tex wasn’t the only one who liked to litter his backyard with the quaint creatures.

“What’s going on?” now asked Odelia as she and Chase stepped through the hole in the hedge. Odelia was looking even more frumpy than her mother, and Chase was dressed in boxers and a T-shirt as usual, showcasing his muscular physique.

“Someone stole your father’s gnomes,” Marge said.

Chase suppressed a smile, indicating he didn’t think the news was especially worrisome, but quickly rearranged his features in the recommended look of concern your small-town copper knows how to perfect when faced with these trifling matters that are nevertheless of great concern to the ordinary citizenry that pays his salary.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Tex,” said Gran, clapping her son-in-law on the back. “I’m launching my new neighborhood watch, and your gnomes are my first case.”

“A neighborhood watch?” asked Marge. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. With this crime wave sweeping our town I think it’s high time someone stepped up and did the right thing.”

“I think you’ll find that the police department has matters well in hand, Vesta,” said Chase, who clearly wasn’t a big fan of Gran’s new initiative.

“I’m doing this to help you, young man,” said Gran, taking the diplomatic approach for once. “I know you have your hands full and this will take some of the pressure off.”

“Mh,” said Chase, not convinced.

“Oh, and I’ve recruited your cats,” said Gran, addressing her granddaughter. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“By all means, recruit away,” said Odelia, yawning. Then she crooked a finger in my direction and said, “Max? A word, please?”

Meekly, I followed her back through the hedge and into our own backyard.

She crouched down next to me, not looking entirely happy. I could already tell what was going on before she opened her mouth. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

I nodded guiltily. “The mice,” I said quietly. “They were at it again last night.”

“This can’t go on like this, Max,” she said. “You have to do something. Because if you don’t, I’ll be forced to take steps, and you know what that means, right?”

I nodded once more. “Traps,” I said, even more quietly than before.

“Humane traps, of course, but traps all the same.”

“I tried to talk to them,” I said. “But they’re not listening. They feel they’re actually doing us a favor.”

“By plundering the fridge and cupboards?”

“They feel their presence keeps the real pests out, like beetles and, um, roaches.”

Now that I was repeating the mouse’s words I could hear how lame it all sounded.

Odelia made a face. “Look, this has got to stop. So either you make them behave, or I’m going to have to get rid of them.”

“Where will you take them once you’ve caught them in your traps?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about that. But far enough so they won’t come back.”

“They’re not going to like it,” I murmured.

“Well, too bad. No one believes me when I tell them I’m dealing with a mouse infestation. ‘Don’t you have four cats?’ they ask me. ‘Yes,’ I tell them. ‘Four cats and a mouse colony in my basement.’” She rubbed my back and I heaved another deep sigh.

See what I mean? Humans simply don’t understand that not all cats are natural-born killers. Some of us are more the peaceable kind. Still, she had a point. Something clearly needed to be done, and the onus was on me to come up with a plan of campaign.

A plan that involved making a colony of mice behave, not like squatters, but like perfectly decent house guests.

Talk about a tough proposition!

Chapter 3

As Odelia walked to work, putting some pep in her step, she thought about the look on Max’s face when she gently scolded him about the mouse issue. She felt sorry for her precious blorange feline, but she also felt strongly that it was his job to keep the house free of mice or, in case they decided to stay, to make them behave.

God had given her the rare gift of being able to talk to cats, but that gift unfortunately didn’t extend to other species of animals. Max, on the other hand, could talk to anyone, and so she’d relegated the task of disciplining the mice to his capable care.

She’d hate to have to put the mice out of the house, as she was a feeling young woman, and loved all creatures great or small. Still, she had to draw the line somewhere.

In her mind, she went over the tasks that lay ahead. Dan, her editor, had assigned her the unenviable task of covering the upcoming pigfest, where the biggest porker and its keeper would fetch a nice prize, and of course there was the summer ball to think about.

Dan himself had been engrossed in the Maria Power retrospective at the Seabreeze Music Center. Maria Power was one of Hampton Cove’s most famous residents, but also its most elusive one.

The world-renowned actress, now in her seventh decade, had been a star of the silver screen for decades, until her retirement ten years before, at which point she’d disappeared from the public eye. She steadfastly refused to be interviewed, even by Dan, one of her biggest fans and the head of one of the two fan clubs Hampton Cove boasted, but now that she was turning seventy, and Hampton Cove was the scene of an elaborate celebration of her illustrious movie career, Dan had been doing everything in his power to land that exclusive interview with the grande dame of American cinema.

Now that was the sort of article Odelia would have liked to write, instead of pigfest.

She arrived at the office and walked in. She passed Dan’s office and called out her usual morning greeting. When her greeting wasn’t returned with a hale and hearty ‘And a good morning to you, sunshine!’ she retraced her steps and glanced into his office. And that’s when she saw it. Or rather… her.

On the floor, in the middle of Dan’s office, the body of a woman lay spread-eagle.

Odelia swallowed, and squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if she was seeing things. Spend enough time investigating murders and that kind of thing is bound to happen.

But as she opened her eyes again, the body was still there, lying prone on the floor, a halo of blond hair spread out around her head, a spot of crimson at the center of that glossy blond mane. Next to the woman, a garden gnome of sizable proportions lay.

Odelia felt nauseous for a moment, then took out her phone and called the police station switchboard.

Dolores picked up at the first ring.

“Dolores, it’s Odelia. You’re not going to believe this, but I just found a dead woman in Dan’s office.”

“Oh, I believe it, sweetheart,” Dolores rasped in her characteristic smoker’s voice. She sounded completely unfazed by this development. “I’ll send in the cavalry, shall I?”

Odelia nodded, her eyes transfixed on that awful spot of crimson. It was still glistening, which told her that whoever had murdered the woman had done so recently.

Just then, the outer door to the office opened and Dan walked in. “Someone yanked off my windshield wipers,” he grumbled. “Can you believe it? Vandalism, if you ask—” He halted when he came upon Odelia, standing over the dead woman. “What the…” he began, then exclaimed, “Oh, dear Lord!” when he took in the shocking scene.

“I called the police already,” said Odelia. “Do you know her?”

“She must be my eight thirty,” said Dan, his white beard waggling distractedly.

“Your eight thirty?”

“Yeah, some woman called me yesterday. Said she wanted to see me about something. So I told her to come in at eight thirty. If that’s her, she must have been early.”

“Who is she?”

“She said her name was Heather Gallop. That’s all I know.”

“So you stepped out before she came in, is that what you’re saying?”

“Uh-huh. I got a call just after eight that someone was vandalizing my car, so I hurried out to go check. And sure enough both windshield wipers had been yanked off.”

Odelia checked her phone. It was eight fifteen. “So whoever killed her must have done it in the past ten minutes, right after you walked out and just before I walked in.”

“You didn’t see anyone?” Dan was licking his lips, looking distinctly ill at ease.

“No, I didn’t see anyone,” she said, studying the editor closely. “Looks like they used a gnome as the murder weapon.”

The editor cursed under his breath. “I can’t believe they’d use Gnomeo.”

“Gnomeo?”

“Yeah, it’s named after Romeo and Juliet. A gnome played a big part in the movie.”

“You’re talking about Gnomeo and Juliet? The kids’ movie?”

“Not the kids’ movie. Maria Power’s film debut. She played Juliet and had long and animated conversations with a gnome, her constant companion.” He looked pained.

As he took a step into the room, Odelia stopped him at once. “Better not touch anything,” she advised him.

“No,” he said, startled. “No, of course.”

In spite of her long acquaintance with her boss, or maybe because of it, she couldn’t help but feel he was acting a little strangely. Then again, people all react differently to murder, and in spite of the fact that Dan had been the Hampton Cove Gazette’s editor for forty years, he’d probably never had a dead person lying in the middle of his office.

But before she could ask him any further questions, the door swung open and Chase walked in, followed by Odelia’s uncle Alec, who was also Hampton Cove’s chief of police.

“Holy crap,” was her uncle’s first reaction. “Now why did you go and do that for, Dan?”

“What?” said the editor. “I didn’t kill her, Alec!”

“Then what is she doing in your office, her head bashed in with your pet gnome?” asked Alec sternly.

“I had nothing to do with it, I swear!” said the editor, and somehow Odelia had the feeling Dan’s sufferings had only just begun.

Chapter 4

“But Vesta, what does a neighborhood watch actually DO?” asked Scarlett.

Scarlett Canyon was looking her usual outlandish self: short-short skirt, sexy top that revealed far too much of her provocative cleavage, and stiletto heels that would have given Vesta vertigo had she chosen to wear something similar, which she hadn’t. On the contrary, she was wearing her usual blue tracksuit and her sensible white sneakers.

There had been a time, not all that long ago, when the mere sight of Scarlett would have made Vesta’s blood pressure spike to dangerous heights, and made her break out into a stream of vituperative a gangster rapper could learn something from, but those days were over. She and Scarlett had reconciled, and had become, much to everyone’s surprise, close friends.

No one in Hampton Cove would have believed it possible for two women as different as these two to become friends, but there they were, standing in line at the pharmacy on Downing Street and not even pelting one another with pots of moisturizer or tubes of hemorrhoid cream the way they used to in the old days.

“Well, a neighborhood watch fights crime,” Vesta explained. “But most importantly they make people feel safe. Make them feel as if someone is watching out for them.”

“But… isn’t that what the police do?” asked Scarlett. “Isn’t that exactly the sort of thing we pay them for?”

“Now see, that’s the beauty of it. The police can only do so much, so while they focus on your real hardened criminals, we patrol the streets and watch out for the small stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like people not cleaning up after their dogs, or littering, or young punks spraying graffiti or keying cars. You know, stuff like that. Plus…” Her eyes glittered as she said this. “Being in a neighborhood watch gives you permission to do what we do best, darling.”

Scarlett’s face lit up, and her cat-like eyes flashed. “Flirting with the hot guys!”

“Even better. Snooping around!”

“I like to snoop,” said Scarlett, nodding and pursing her plumped-up lips. “In fact I live to snoop. Not in a bad way, though. Strictly in a good way.”

Though Scarlett didn’t define what a good way of snooping could possibly be, Vesta understood. She, too, felt that only a community where people looked out for one another was a community where life was worth living. And how else can you look out for one another if not by knowing all there is to know about everyone?

“Do we need some kind of permission to launch this neighborhood watch?” asked Scarlett.

“Yeah, you have to be registered with the local police, but I’m sure my son will arrange all of that.”

“It must be so easy to have a son who’s a cop,” said Scarlett admiringly.

“Sometimes,” said Vesta, “it is and sometimes it isn’t.”

The line had moved and it was Vesta’s turn. Rory Suds, the grizzled pharmacist who looked like a stick figure, eyed her expectantly. “Vesta? What can I do for you?”

“It’s not about what you can do for me, Rory,” she said, “but what I can do for you.” She gave him her most engaging smile, which made her cheeks hurt. She wasn’t used to smiling, and it didn’t exactly come natural. “Scarlett and I are launching Hampton Cove’s first neighborhood watch, and we’d like you to be one of our informers.”

Rory blinked. “Is that so?” he said cautiously.

“Yeah, that is so,” said Vesta, losing the smile. She liked to see nothing but excitement about her new endeavor, and the pharmacist’s guarded expression told her he was anything but excited. “Look, it’s pretty simple. If you see or hear anything that strikes you as odd, you tell us. We all want Hampton Cove to be a safe and pleasant place.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” said Rory, nodding as his eyes shifted between Vesta and Scarlett, as if unsure of what he was seeing and hearing right then. “So it’s true, then, is it?” he asked.

“What is true?” asked Vesta, massaging her cheeks and slightly displacing her dentures.

“You two are friends now?”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” said Scarlett. “In fact Vesta and I are best friends.”

Rory grinned. “It’s just that… frankly I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Well, you saw the day,” Vesta snapped. “Now are you going to help us or not?”

Rory’s smile disappeared and he swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”

As Vesta and Scarlett exited the pharmacy, Scarlett said, “That went well.”

“I was expecting more excitement,” Vesta grumbled. “He didn’t look excited.”

“Not everyone has a penchant for fighting crime,” said Scarlett. “They’re not all cut from the same cloth as you and me.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. So who’s next?”

Scarlett pointed in the direction of Main Street. “Wilbur Vickery. Nothing happens in this town that Wilbur doesn’t know about.”

“I swear to God, if he starts hemming and hawing I’m gonna smack him in the snoot.”

“Better not,” said Scarlett. “People don’t like it when you smack them in the snoot, even if you’re doing it for all the right reasons.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Vesta grumbled.

They passed the offices of the Gazette, and Vesta was surprised to see an ambulance parked out in front and a stretcher being carted in by two paramedics at a gallop. Immediately her attention was snagged. Galloping paramedics had that effect on her.

“Now what the hell is going on over here?” she asked.

“Let’s find out,” said Scarlett, as chipper as a newly self-appointed crime fighter could be.

“Hey, you!” Vesta yelled to the driver of the ambulance. “What’s going on?”

“Lady was killed,” he said, only too eager to spill the beans. Now that kind of behavior was what Vesta liked to see. Not Rory Suds’s annoying reticence. “Head bashed in with a garden gnome if you please,” the guy added with a wide smile. “Ain’t that something?”

“Head bashed in with a garden gnome?” asked Scarlett. “Isn’t that the kind of thing the neighborhood watch should get involved with?”

“Nah, we don’t do murder and mayhem. That’s for my son and granddaughter.”

They both watched as Alec and Odelia walked out, along with Chase Kingsley. The three of them looked appropriately concerned, and when finally Dan Goory joined them on the sidewalk, it was obvious something had rattled the editor to the bones. He looked even more gaunt than usual, and his face had taken on the same pallor as his beard.

“What happened?” asked Vesta, unable to restrain herself. She might only be in the habit of fighting the softer types of crime, but couldn’t resist finding out about the tougher stuff as well.

“Yeah, what happened?” asked Scarlett, tripping up on her high heels. “As neighborhood watchers we have a right to know what’s going on in our town.”

“A woman was murdered,” said Odelia. “And that’s pretty much all we know right now.”

“So you don’t know anything,” Vesta said. “You disappoint me, honey.”

The paramedics came galloping out again, this time carrying the victim on their stretcher. Vesta caught a glimpse of some hot young blonde, looking decidedly dead.

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” asked Alec a little gruffly. “Like at the doctor’s office?”

Vesta made a dismissive gesture of the hand. “Tex doesn’t need me. Besides, making sure Hampton Cove is crime-free is more important than playing receptionist. So do you want my professional opinion?”

“No, but I have a feeling you’re going to give it anyway,” said Alec with a sigh.

“Crime of passion,” said Vesta, gesturing with her head to Dan, who stood talking into his phone now, presumably to secure himself a good lawyer.

“What are you talking about?” asked Odelia.

“Old guy like Dan and a hot young bimbo like that? She probably dropped by the office to tell him she was finished with him on account of the fact that she found someone better than that old fart.”

“A young fart,” Scarlett added, nodding.

“So Dan flew into a rage and whacked her over the head with his gnome. End of story. Lean on him hard enough and I’m sure he’ll confess. Now if there’s nothing else, we’ve got people to see and crime to fight so adios.”

And with these words, she and Scarlett took off.

“Are you sure Dan killed her?” asked Scarlett.

“Of course. Old guys like Dan fly off the handle when they get dumped. Can’t take the rejection. If I’ve seen it happen once I’ve seen it a hundred times.”

“Oh, sure,” said Scarlett, nodding. “Remember that time I dumped Leo’s ass? His face got all red and splotchy and for a moment there I thought he was gonna have a stroke.”

“You dated Leo?”

“I thought you knew. Why? You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted.

“No need to be jealous, sweetie. I only dated him to spite you. But that’s all in the past now.”

“All in the past,” Vesta echoed.

“I’m so glad we’re friends again. Aren’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, though sometimes she wished Scarlett was a little less… Scarlett.

Chapter 5

Dooley was seriously worried about his best friend Max. Max had been behaving strangely all morning. For one thing, he wasn’t his usual self. Perhaps it was too much to say that Max was a cheerful cat, but he wasn’t uncheerful either. Dooley thought Max was probably semi-cheerful. But all that morning Max had been looking distinctly down.

He claimed it was because of the mice. That he didn’t know what to do about them. But Hector and Helga and their little ones had been there for weeks, and during all this time Max hadn’t been particularly worried. He was worried now, though. Very worried.

And so Dooley was worried, too.

Dooley loved his friend. He figured he was the luckiest cat in the world for having a friend like Max. Honorable, wise, very smart and very brave, and extremely kind, too.

And as he and Max ambled along the sidewalk heading into town as they did most mornings, to talk to their friends and snoop around, Dooley couldn’t help but think that Max was hiding something.

It had to be cancer. It simply had to be.

Max was sick and dying, and being the wonderful friend that he was he didn’t want Dooley to worry.

Oh, no, Dooley thought as tears formed in his eyes at the thought of losing his best friend. Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.

He decided to launch another joke. It was important now to make his friend laugh. To make him laugh and laugh and laugh until he was feeling much, much better, and that nasty cancer was simply driven out of his body and replaced with good, healthy cells.

“Did you hear the one about the one-armed sailor who took a job as a window cleaner?” he asked now, arranging his features into an expression of jollity, designed to inspire happiness and laughter in his friend.

“No, I haven’t,” said Max, a little grumpily.

“Well, he didn’t get the job.” He waited for Max’s pleasant laugh to ring out, and when it didn’t come, he decided to set the example and produced the kind of laugh a hyena would approve of.

Max frowned and said, “I don’t get it.”

Oh, dear. Clearly Dooley had to up his game. Come up with better material.

“Um…” he said, thinking hard. “A priest, a rabbi and an assface walk into a bar. And the assface says to the priest, ‘Have we met before?’ And the priest says, ‘No, I don’t think so. I’d remember a face like yours.’”

He waited for Max to laugh uproariously, but nothing came. Not even a chuckle or a chortle. So once again he decided to show his friend how it was done and guffawed loudly and with solid conviction.

“I didn’t want to tell you this, Dooley,” finally said Max, after giving him a curious look—exactly the kind of look a doctor would give a patient before having him admitted to Bellevue, Dooley imagined. “But your jokes need work. A lot of work.”

“What kind of work, Max?” he asked. Your up-and-coming comedian likes to take these little criticisms on board.

“Well, for one thing your jokes aren’t funny.”

“Mh,” Dooley said, nodding. “I see your point,” he said, filing Max’s comment away for later use.

“What’s going on over there?” asked Max now, and gestured to the offices of the Hampton Cove Gazette. It was where Odelia worked, and a very nice office it was, too. With a very nice boss named Dan Goory. He looked like Santa Claus, only without the pleasant rotundity. Or the red-cheeked cheerful face. Or the bag of presents and the use of a stable of reindeer. On second thought Dan didn’t look much like Santa Claus at all.

Dooley looked over to where Max was pointing. Odelia was there, and so was her uncle and her boyfriend Chase. And when Dooley saw the ambulance, his heart skipped a beat. Or two.

“Oh, no! An ambulance! Maybe Dan died!”

“Dan didn’t die,” said Max. “He’s standing right there, talking to Uncle Alec.”

“Oh, so he is,” said Dooley, much relieved. He quickly checked off the names of potential victims in his head and came to the reassuring conclusion that all the people he loved and cared for were alive and accounted for. Which begged the question: “So who died?”

“Let’s go and find out,” Max said, and they headed on over to dig deeper into the mystery of the ambulance standing in front of Odelia’s workplace.

“What happened?” asked Max as they sidled up to Odelia.

Odelia looked left and right—she didn’t like to be seen talking to her cats for some reason—and said, “According to Dan the victim’s name is Heather Gallop. She contacted him yesterday and made an appointment. And then afterward she sent him a one-word text that read, ‘Gnomeo,’ so Dan thinks it’s got something to do with Maria Power.”

“Who’s Maria Power?” asked Dooley immediately. He’d discovered that when he didn’t ask questions immediately he often forgot to ask them later, so better do it now.

“She’s a famous movie actress from the seventies and eighties who lives in Hampton Cove. Dan is a big fan. He’s also the president of the official Maria Power Fan Club.”

“So this Heather Gallop is dead?” asked Max, getting to the heart of the matter as usual.

“I’m afraid so,” said Odelia.

“How did she die?” asked Dooley. He darted a worried glance at his friend. “Was it cancer?”

“She was hit over the head with a garden gnome,” said Odelia.

“Murder,” said Max, nodding.

“Murder!” Dooley cried. “In your office!”

“Dan’s office, actually,” said Odelia.

“Did Dan have something to do with it?” asked Max.

“If so he’s not admitting it,” said Odelia, and rose from her crouch to rejoin the conversation between her uncle, Chase, and Dan. The latter didn’t look happy, which was understandable. If someone murders one of your visitors with a garden gnome, it probably comes as something of a shock. Plus it might scare away future visitors.

“Let’s go inside and have a look,” Max suggested, and padded into the Gazette building and then straight into Dan’s office.

There wasn’t all that much to see, as the body had already been removed, probably by those nice people that drove that big shiny ambulance with the flashing lights. People dressed in white were combing the office for traces of things murderers sometimes like to leave behind, whether they want to or not, and the county coroner, a thickset man named Abe Cornwall, was muttering something to himself as he studied the room.

Max paused in front of a glass display case in a corner of Dan’s office and Dooley joined him.

“What are you looking for, Max?”

“Gnomes,” said Max.

“Gnomes?” asked Dooley, wondering if the tumor that Max was suffering from was one of those brain tumors. He’d seen a documentary on the Discovery Channel about brain tumors, and they sometimes did very strange things to people’s brains. It kinda displaced them, squished them so hard they stopped working like they should.

“Looks like Tex isn’t the only one who collects the horrible things,” Max remarked.

Dooley followed his gaze, and saw to his relief that the display case was filled with gnomes. So the gnomes were real, and not merely a figment of Max’s diseased brain.

In the same display case a collection of pictures had been placed, all of them depicting the same woman.

“Maria Power,” said Max, masterfully reading Dooley’s mind before he’d even uttered a single word. It just goes to show how Max and Dooley were attuned. How their minds worked as one mind. Though of course minus the brain tumor in Dooley’s case.

“I wonder what the connection between these gnomes and this Maria Power is,” said Dooley.

“It says right there in that framed article,” Max pointed out.

And indeed he was right again. The title of the yellowed newspaper article—possibly from Dan’s very own newspaper—was ‘Gnomeo and Maria: a most lovely pairing.’

“Gnomeo and Maria,” said Dooley, then got the joke and laughed heartily. “It’s just like Romeo and Juliet, isn’t it, Max?”

“Yes, it is,” said Max, displaying a slight smile of amusement. “It seems like today gnomes keep popping up wherever we go.”

With the swiftness of motion that was his hallmark, in spite of his size, Max turned on his heel and made for the door, Dooley right on his tail.

“Do you think Odelia is going to ask us to assist her in cracking the case?” he asked.

“Pretty sure she will,” said Max. He turned and smiled. “Doesn’t she always?”

To see that smile on his friend’s face warmed Dooley’s heart to such an extent he had to wipe away a tear. Max might be dying of cancer, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

Maybe a good murder case was exactly what he needed to lift his spirits.

Even if it was his last one…

Chapter 6

As Dooley and I walked out of Dan’s office, I couldn’t help but pick up a very distinct but pleasant scent. It clearly belonged to a human and it wasn’t Dan or Odelia’s. I figured it might belong to one of Dan’s frequent visitors, or one of those strange people dressed all in white going over the crime scene with a fine-tooth comb.

But then, just as we were leaving, I noticed a second glass display case. This, too, was dedicated to Maria Power, and contained a plastic mannequin dressed in a very nice green silk dress with sequined bodice. At the foot of the mannequin a picture had been placed showing the real Maria Power wearing that self-same dress.

I studied the picture for a moment, and saw she was a very handsome woman indeed.

She had those high cheekbones some men go all gaga over, shiny auburn tresses, a wide mouth and remarkable green eyes. She was smiling in the picture, and judging from the background had every reason to: I could see palm trees, a nice beach, and those clear azure waters you find in your better-quality beach resorts.

And as I took another sniff I finally decided the distinct scent had to come from the dress. And it was with a little sigh that I left the office. Humans sometimes smell very nice indeed.

“So who do you think did it, Max?” asked Dooley as we were once again walking along the sidewalk.

“I have no idea, Dooley,” I said. “Which is why I suggest we tap all of our usual sources and do it quickly, too.”

“Why quickly?”

“Because I have a feeling Odelia’s boss is in big trouble.” I’d picked up a few snatches of the conversation between Uncle Alec, Chase and Dan, and it seemed to me that the police officers had already decided who the killer was and were now only waiting for the results of the forensic investigation to strike.

We’d arrived at Wilbur Vickery’s General Store, and I saw that our friend Kingman was already in pole position to spy on the fine female felines that prance up and down Main Street on any given day.

“Hey, Kingman,” I said by way of greeting, but he was momentarily distracted by a strikingly handsome Persian sashaying past the store and giving Kingman the eye.

“A woman has been murdered,” Dooley said, clearly taking my advice about moving quickly to heart. “And Max thinks that Uncle Alec thinks that Dan did it.”

“Mh?” said Kingman, finally becoming aware of our presence. “Oh, hiya, fellas. What was that about a murder?”

“A woman has been found murdered in Dan’s office,” I explained. “And we were wondering if you heard something.”

He frowned, dragging his mind out of the gutter. “Um…”

“It happened just now,” I said. “So chances are slim you would have heard anything, but just in case you have…” I raised a questioning eyebrow, signaling to my friend how important this case was.

Indeed if Dan was charged with murder it would effectively mean the end of the Gazette, and Odelia’s job. It was perhaps a little selfish of me to think along these terms but there you have it. No job for Odelia also meant no more money coming in, and no money meant no food for me, unless Odelia’s parents jumped in to give her some much-needed financial support—and Chase, of course. Though I doubted whether a policeman’s salary would allow for the kind of lifestyle to which we’d become accustomed.

“What’s going on?” asked Buster, who was passing by.

“A woman was murdered in Dan Goory’s office,” Kingman explained. “And Max is wondering if I’d heard something, which I’m afraid to say I haven’t.”

Buster frowned. He’s a Main Coon belonging to Fido Siniawski, the barber, and as such a valuable source of information for Dooley and me—and by extension Odelia.

“When was this?” asked Buster.

“Just now,” I said. “Maybe half an hour ago or so?”

“I did see a UPS guy head into the Gazette,” said Buster. “And just before that I saw Dan hurry out, looking rattled. He had a big frown on his face and was talking to himself.”

“So Dan walked out as the UPS guy walked in?” I asked, making sure I got the sequence of events just right. “So did they meet?”

“Nah. Dan walked out and then the UPS guy walked in. I have to admit I didn’t see him walk out again. Missy came in with Garvin and I got distracted. I did see your Odelia walk in, though, and then later the shit hit the fan: ambulance, police—the works.”

“So who was the woman that died?” asked Kingman.

“A Heather Gallop,” I said. “One of Dan’s visitors. She called him yesterday and told him she wanted to meet. She also sent him a text with the word ‘Gnomeo.’”

“Probably some kind of code,” said Buster with a grin.

“Code for what?” I asked.

Kingman and Buster shared a look. Clearly their minds were now both in the gutter.

“Naughty Dan,” said Kingman, proving that my assessment was right on the money. “First hanky-panky and then murder. And all this during office hours, huh? What a guy.”

“I’m sure it’s not like that,” I said, but I had a feeling my words fell on deaf ears. Soon the story would do the rounds that Dan had accidentally murdered his lady friend in some kind of sordid sex game gone terribly wrong. And it had involved a gnome.

“I wonder what he did with the gnome,” said Buster, sniggering delightedly.

“Or maybe it was her that handled the gnome,” said Kingman, snickering uncontrollably.

“Sticking it where it didn’t belong,” said Buster.

“Until he’d had enough and knocked her over the head with it.”

“I don’t think this is a laughing matter,” I said sternly.

“Yes, it is!” said Kingman, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “I’ve heard of a lot of things, but a garden gnome? Never!”

“Humans,” said Buster, shaking his head. “They never cease to amaze.”

“Endless source of entertainment,” Kingman agreed.

And as Buster and Kingman discussed the logistics of hanky-panky with the assistance of a garden gnome, I decided it was time for Dooley and me to take our leave.

“So we probably have to find the UPS guy, don’t we?” asked Dooley.

“Yes, we do,” I said. “He might be able to tell us if the victim was still alive when Dan left the building. And if she was dead already…”

I didn’t finish the sentence, as the prospect of Dan being locked up for murder was too horrible to contemplate.

Chapter 7

Harriet was sniffing around the backyard. She and Brutus had officially been recruited to join Gran’s neighborhood watch and she was a cat who took her responsibilities seriously.

“Anything?” asked Brutus.

“Nothing so far,” she said sadly.

Even though she possessed a keen sense of smell, and had hoped to pick up the trail of the culprit or culprits who’d dared invade the sanctity of Tex and Marge’s backyard and abscond with Tex’s treasured gnomes, so far she hadn’t picked up the scent yet.

“Maybe we should call in the dogs,” she suggested with a sigh. It was hard for her to admit, but it was true that dogs’ sense of smell was even better than cats’. And since Ted and Marcie next door had recently gotten a dog, it would be a cinch to enlist Rufus, who was a large and fluffy sheepdog.

“A dog?” Brutus cried. “Never!”

“But sweetie pie, dogs do have a superior sense of smell.”

“No, they don’t,” said Brutus. “Our sense of smell is just as good as Rufus’s, no doubt about it.”

“If you say so,” said Harriet with a sigh. That was the trouble with men: oftentimes ego trumped common sense, and when it did, it hindered rather than aided in their investigations.

“Did I hear my name?” suddenly asked a voice from across the fence.

Harriet smiled and trotted over. There was a small hole through which she could see Rufus’s friendly face. Even though she’d never been a big fan of dogs—most cats aren’t, and for good reason, too—she’d come to like and appreciate Rufus, who was one of those big kind-hearted dogs. The proverbial gentle giant.

“Hey, Rufus,” she said. “Maybe you can help us out here.” She ignored Brutus’s hissed, ‘Don’t!’ and proceeded to explain the situation to the big dog.

Rufus’s eyes narrowed as he took this in. “So you’re saying someone stole Tex’s garden gnomes last night? But that’s terrible! Who would do such a thing?!”

“He’s not happy about it. Tex loves those gnomes and he’s pretty upset.”

“I can only imagine,” said Rufus, nodding. “So how many gnomes were stolen?”

“All of them,” said Harriet. “And he must have had a dozen.”

She had no idea how it was even possible to love a garden gnome, of all things, but she’d long ago stopped being surprised about the strange and curious behavior of humans. How anyone could collect terra cotta lawn ornament figurines was frankly beyond her, but obviously plenty of people did, or else they wouldn’t have been stolen.

“Hey, Brutus,” said Rufus good-naturedly.

“Grmbl,” Brutus said in return, which elicited an eye roll from Harriet.

“You’ll have to forgive Brutus,” said Harriet. “He got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. So to speak.”

“Ha ha,” said Rufus at this quaint conceit. Then he frowned. “You guys have your own beds now?”

“It’s just a manner of speech,” Harriet said. “We usually sleep at the foot of our human’s bed.”

“Oh, nice,” said Rufus. “I sleep at the foot of the bed, too, though sometimes my humans kick me off. They say I’m too big to sleep there, but I don’t think so.”

Harriet could only imagine how much acreage the big dog would occupy, and mentally commended Ted and Marcie for their tolerance. “So you didn’t see anything last night?” she asked, returning to the topic under discussion.

“No, I’m sorry to say I didn’t,” said Rufus ruefully.

“Thought so,” Brutus grumbled.

“Maybe if you could sniff around you might be able to pick up the thieves’ scent?” Harriet suggested.

“Harriet!” Brutus cried, then added between clenched teeth, “We can’t allow dogs in OUR backyard!”

“Oh, I’d love to,” said Rufus, ignoring Brutus’s outburst, which he must have picked up loud and clear. Dogs not only have a superior sense of smell, their hearing is pretty solid, too. “Just give me a mo,” the big dog said, and as Harriet stood back, Rufus effortlessly jumped on top of the garden table, then on top of the fence, and straight into their backyard, much to Brutus’s horror.

“You’re not using my litter box!” the cat yelled.

“Oh, don’t worry, Brutus,” said Rufus with a pleasant smile. “I won’t.”

There had been a time when all the neighborhood dogs had started using cats’ litter boxes, but luckily that folly had been short-lived. Now they did their doo-doo on the sidewalk again, as before, with their humans picking up after them. It wasn’t ideal, but it was still preferable to having to share a litter box with every deserving canine.

“So let’s do this,” Rufus muttered, and began to sniff around to his heart’s content.

“I swear, if he so much as lifts his hind leg and pees…” Brutus said under his breath.

“Oh, don’t be such a grinch, Brutus,” said Harriet. “Rufus is helping us out, so you should be nice to him.”

“Grmbl,” was Brutus’s response.

“So weird,” said Rufus after having sniffed his way all around the backyard and returning to where Brutus and Harriet sat near the fence.

“What is?” she asked.

“Well, I’m picking up the same scent that I’ve been picking up in my own backyard the last couple of days. And I’ve been wondering where it comes from. I don’t recognize it as belonging to either Ted or Marcie or any of their friends. So it must be a stranger.”

“You mean someone’s been in your backyard, too?” asked Brutus, momentarily forgetting his antipathy at this startling revelation.

“Yeah, two distinct scents belonging to two distinct individuals. I picked them up for the first time about a week ago, and now again here.”

“These must be the thieves,” said Harriet slowly. “They must have passed through the Trappers’ backyard before jumping the fence and coming here to steal the gnomes.”

“But why?” asked Rufus. “They could easily have come in through the field.”

They all stared at the field in question, which was located behind both their backyards and Odelia’s, too. It was a piece of land covered in brambles and overgrown weeds and nettles, and provided the perfect access and egress into all of their backyards.

“Nothing was stolen from your place?” asked Brutus, taking the case in paw.

“Nothing as far as I know,” said Rufus.

“Weird,” said Harriet. “Very weird.”

“Say, listen,” said Brutus, clearing his throat. “Um… you’ve got a pretty solid sense of smell on you, right?”

“I can’t complain,” said Rufus with a smile.

“Well, um… well, see, the thing is, Gran and her friend are launching a neighborhood watch. And so I was wondering…” He coughed nervously. “See, the thing is… we could use someone like you on our team.”

Harriet smiled. It surprised her that her dog-hating mate would suddenly display such a change of heart, but it most definitely pleased her. “Great idea, snuggle bug,” she said. “Brutus is right, Rufus,” she added. “We could use a dog like you on our team.”

“Neighborhood watch, eh?” said Rufus, giving this some thought. “Well, why not,” he said finally. “I’ve always wanted to be a cop dog, and this is probably as close as I’ll get.”

Brutus grinned, and so did Harriet. This was great news. Cats and dogs, fighting crime together as a team. Which reminded her of another idea that had hit her shortly after Max and Dooley had set out for their morning stroll.

“Say, Rufus, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Shoot,” said the amiable dog.

“The thing is, you know that Odelia has mice, right?”

“Yeah, you guys told me about that.”

“Well, they’re making an awful mess of the house, and Odelia is fed up and frankly so are we. So I was wondering… Could you drop by one of these days and have a word with them? They don’t seem to respect cats, but maybe they do dogs. Especially as you’re so big and strong and all?”

Rufus grew a few inches as she spoke, and she could have sworn he was blushing. “No, of course,” he said. “If you think it’ll make a difference I’d be more than happy to help.”

“Great,” she said, well pleased. “That’s settled then.”

After Rufus had returned to his own backyard, Brutus turned to her and said, a slight hint of suspicion in his voice, “Why did you ask Rufus to take care of the mice? I thought Odelia had asked Max to deal with them?”

“It’s obvious Max can’t cope, wuggle bear,” she said. “And neither can Dooley. So I thought maybe we should lend them a helping paw. After all, that’s our house, too.”

Brutus didn’t seem to agree. “I still think asking a dog to do a cat’s job is simply wrong. Besides, we’re going to owe him big time. And I hate to be indebted to a dog.”

“Oh, don’t be such a prig, Brutus,” said Harriet. “Dogs are God’s creatures, too, you know. And Rufus is a nice dog, as dogs go.”

“He is nice,” Brutus agreed, then gave her a curious look. “Maybe a little too nice.”

She stared at her mate, then broke into an incredulous bark of laughter. “Brutus, you’re not jealous, are you?”

“Of course not,” he said gruffly, staring at the ground.

“You are! I don’t believe this. Jealous of a dog!”

Brutus shrugged. “So what if I’m jealous? Clearly that dog likes you.”

“He doesn’t like me like that, you fool!” she cried, but felt touched by Brutus’s behavior. So she planted a gentle kiss on his brow, which was puckered with worry. “Oh, sugar plum,” she said. “I only love you, you foolish tomcat. Don’t you know that by now?”

“I guess sometimes I don’t,” he murmured.

“Here, look at me,” she said, and tilted his head. “You’re the only one for me, cuddle cakes.”

He smiled then, and they kissed.

Chapter 8

Marge was leafing through a Jackie Collins book, to see if there weren’t any pages ripped out or remnants of food left when old Mrs. Samson walked into the library, carrying her usual shopping bag full of books.

Mrs. Samson was a little old lady and one of Marge’s regulars. She came in almost weekly, and judging by the number of books she read probably did little else but read.

“All finished already, Mrs. Samson?” asked Marge pleasantly.

“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Samson, twin blushes on her cheeks as usual. She preferred to read the saucy romance novels—in fact the saucier the better. “Anything new?”

“I put a couple of books aside for you that I think you might like.”

“Oh, goodie,” said Mrs. Samson, and followed Marge to the counter.

Marge dove underneath her desk and brought out a nice pile of books she hoped would satisfy her customer’s voracious reading appetite.

Mrs. Samson picked up the first book and studied the bare-chested male on the cover. Her blush deepened. “Now doesn’t this look nice,” she murmured. “Is it very steamy?”

“As steamy as it gets,” said Marge with a smile. She was well aware of the woman’s predilection by now, and since she always feared she’d run out of books for the old lady to read kept stocking up on the more steamy segment as much as her budget allowed.

“Thanks, Marge,” said Mrs. Samson, displaying a toothy grin. Then she placed her bag on the counter and Marge proceeded to scan the books while Mrs. Samson disappeared between the rows of bookcases in search of more reading material.

And as Marge placed the books Mrs. Samson had checked in on the book cart, her mind returned to the topic that had been engaging her for the last couple of weeks: her daughter’s upcoming nuptials.

The topic had created a certain amount of tension between mother and daughter. Marge wanted to organize a big wedding for her only child, while Odelia herself, and her future husband, wanted to keep things small. They only wanted to invite a couple of friends and their nearest relatives and have them all over for dinner at the house.

At the house! Marge had already explained to Odelia how they couldn’t possibly all fit, but her daughter insisted they could, at least the number of people she had in mind.

Marge, on the other hand, wanted to do things in style and hire a wedding planner and book a nice venue. Though how they were going to get a good place this late in the proceedings was beyond her. She’d advised Odelia and Chase to put the wedding off until the spring, or even the summer, and take their time to do things properly.

Odelia wouldn’t hear of it, though, and said she’d always dreamed of a small affair with only her nearest and dearest.

And while Marge could see where she was coming from, she insisted they needed to involve the town. She hoped and prayed that Odelia would only marry once, and she wanted to make it a day to remember. If they did things Odelia’s way she feared her daughter might regret it later, and Marge wanted to avoid that at all cost. Well, not at all cost, necessarily, but still. She’d talked it over with Tex and they were prepared to pay for the whole thing. It had created another point of contention, as Odelia didn’t want to hear of it. She and Chase were going to pay and no one else.

Marge sighed as she placed a book on wedding etiquette on the cart and started pushing it in the direction of the racks of books. And she’d just started replacing the books in their designated spots when the library doors swung open and Vesta and Scarlett walked in.

Even though Marge had welcomed the fact that her mother had reconciled with her friend, sometimes she wondered if this newfound friendship wasn’t actually a bad thing. Vesta by herself could do a lot of damage, and now that she’d found herself a partner in crime things could be exponentially worse.

“Marge!” Vesta yelled. “Marge, show yourself. Oh, there you are. Trouble in paradise, honey. It looks as if Dan killed some woman—probably his secret girlfriend. And you know what that means, don’t you? Doom and gloom.”

“What?” Marge cried, as she almost dropped a copy of Miss Marple’s complete short stories. “What are you talking about?”

“A woman was found murdered in Dan’s office,” Scarlett explained with visible glee. “And your brother seems to think that Dan did it.”

“Yeah, and if Dan is sent up the river that’s the end of the Gazette I would think, which means your daughter will be unemployed.”

“And with her wedding coming up the timing couldn’t possibly be worse,” concluded Scarlett with relish. “She’ll be out of a job, without a paycheck, and will have to postpone the wedding. Terrible, terrible news.”

“The worst,” Vesta agreed.

“Oh, God,” said Marge, sinking down onto the cart and upending a stack of books about women doing naughty things with wolves. “I don’t believe this. Dan? A murderer?”

“I always thought there was something fishy about that man,” said Vesta. “Haven’t I told you there was something fishy about that man, Scarlett?”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Marge, bringing a weary hand to her brow, which was now bedewed with nervous sweat. The word picture her mother had painted was not a pretty one.

“Which means Odelia has been working for a killer all this time,” Vesta continued her tidings of doom. “It’s a miracle he never killed her.”

“Probably a liaison that ended badly,” Scarlett opined. “You know what old men are like. She probably came to end things, and he took it badly so he bashed her head in.”

“He bashed her head in!” Marge cried, upending another stack of books featuring women doing naughty things with vampires.

“With a garden gnome,” said Vesta, a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Not one of Tex’s garden gnomes,” said Marge, horrified at the implication.

Vesta shrugged. “Only time will tell. But it wouldn’t surprise me. Dan probably plundered Tex’s collection of gnomes last night, and this morning used one to murder his girlfriend.”

“But why?” Marge cried.

“Because he’s a murderous brute, that’s why,” said Scarlett. “These people don’t need a reason to do what they do. It’s in their blood.”

“Not Dan Goory. We’ve known Dan for years.”

“Which just goes to show you can never tell,” said Vesta with satisfaction. “I’m sorry about the wedding.”

“Yeah, that’s too bad about the wedding,” Scarlett agreed, though she didn’t look disappointed at all, and neither did Vesta.

“Well, I can’t stand around here yapping all day,” said Vesta. “Let’s get out of here, Scarlett.”

“Where are you going?” asked Marge, still recovering from the shock.

“Now more than ever it’s important we get this neighborhood watch up and running,” said Vesta.

“Make sure this kind of thing never happens again,” Scarlett pointed out.

“Killers like Dan Goory should be stopped in their tracks. And we’re going to make sure they are—isn’t that right?”

“Damn skippy,” Scarlett agreed.

Marge watched both ladies walk off. Next to her, Mrs. Samson had appeared and had stooped down to pick up one of the books Marge had dropped. It was a book with a bare-chested man on the cover with fangs and drops of blood on his six-pack. “This looks nice,” she murmured, and dropped it into her basket. She then glanced up at Marge. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” she said, and shook her head, little white curls dangling gently as she did. “I don’t believe for one minute that Dan is a murderer. Not one minute.” And with a sweet smile she patted Marge on the arm. “You hang in there, sweetie. Your daughter is a lot smarter than your mother. She’ll find the killer—just you wait and see.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Samson,” said Marge, touched by the woman’s words.

The old lady’s smile widened. “Mark my words, your daughter’s wedding to that hot young cop will go off without a hitch. And before you know it they’ll be at it like bunnies, making you, my dear Marge, a very young granny indeed.”

It was with mixed emotions that Marge checked out Mrs. Samson’s latest haul. The prospect of Odelia and Chase’s wedding going off without a hitch was a pleasant one—the thought of becoming a ‘young granny’ a lot less!

Chapter 9

The investigation was picking up pace and Dooley and I were in the thick of it as usual. After talking to Kingman and Buster we’d returned to the Gazette in the hope of finding Odelia there. As I’d surmised she was engaged in conversation with Chase inside, in her own office, devising a plan of campaign. So when I told her about the UPS guy she actually picked me up (with some effort, I might add) and planted a kiss on my head!

“That’s great news, Max,” she said. She immediately related my words to Chase, who nodded. He was in full detective mode now, judging from the stony look on his face.

“We have to find this UPS guy,” said the cop. “Hopefully he’ll be able to tell us more about what happened.”

“One thing’s for sure. Heather Gallop’s visit to Dan is connected to Maria Power.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The message she sent Dan. Gnomeo?”

“Could have been related to the Gazette.”

“According to Dan, Gnomeo refers to a movie starring Maria Power that has been lost for years.”

“A lost movie!” Dooley cried. “So romantic!”

“Yes, it is,” said Odelia with a smile. “So Maria Power’s very first movie, back when she was a complete unknown, was also the last movie made by Rupert Finkelstein.”

“I think I’ve heard of him,” said Chase, his brow creasing as he searched his memory.

“Rupert Finkelstein was the most successful and famous director of his time. He made half a dozen movies that are considered masterpieces today. But when he made a version of Romeo and Juliet, a whimsical farce, the movie ended up costing so much money the studio fired him from his own production. In retaliation Rupert quit the business, but not before destroying every last copy of the movie.”

“So the first movie of Maria Power never came out?”

“No. But the studio rumor mill had it that Maria’s performance was the best thing about the whole project, and soon her name was on everyone’s tongue, Hollywood’s hottest new property. Her career really took off then, and she was in hit after hit.”

“All based on a movie that no one ever saw.”

Odelia nodded, and chewed her bottom lip. “Dan thinks that maybe this mystery guest, this Heather Gallop, was going to offer him a copy of the movie—hence the message.”

“So... Gnomeo refers to this mystery movie?”

“Yeah. Maria’s character spends a lot of time talking to a gnome.” When Chase crooked an eyebrow she shrugged. “I told you it was a whimsical farce.”

“More like a whimsical flop if you ask me. No wonder the studio shut it down.”

“So Dan thinks Heather Gallop had a copy of the movie?” I asked.

“But I thought the movie doesn’t exist?” asked Dooley.

“If it does exist, it’s probably worth a great deal of money,” said Chase.

“Oh, it’ll be priceless,” said Odelia. “Absolutely priceless.”

“How can something be priceless, Max?” asked Dooley. “Doesn’t everything have a price?”

“Some things are so valuable it’s impossible to put a price on them,” I explained.

“But why come to Dan?” asked Chase. “Because of the Gazette?”

“No, because of the Gnomeos,” said Odelia, and laughed when Chase made a face.

“What are the Gnomeos, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I have no idea,” I said. “But I have a feeling we’re about to find out.”

“The Gnomeos is what the members of the official Maria Power Fan Club call themselves,” Odelia explained. “There is a second fan club, though, run by a man named Jack Warner: the Maria Power Society. But Dan is founder and chairman of the first one, the original. And in his capacity as club leader he’s in charge of the Maria Power retrospective, organizes exhibitions dedicated to her life and career, publishes a monthly club newsletter and much, much more. It’s one of his biggest passions in life.”

“So if our mystery woman had a copy of this lost movie in her possession somehow…” said Chase slowly.

“She would take it to Dan in his capacity as leading expert on all things Maria Power,” said Odelia, nodding.

Chase’s phone rang out the A-Team tune and he picked up, walking into the corridor.

“Do you think Dan is a killer?” I asked.

“Absolutely not,” said Odelia. “Dan is one of the kindest people I know. He’s not a killer.”

“Did you find this Gnomeo movie on Heather Gallop’s person?”

“Nope. And neither did we find her phone, which I think is very suspicious.”

I nodded. Odelia was right. What person doesn’t take their phone nowadays? For most people the tiny gadget is practically glued to their hands. “Is it possible that the killer phoned Dan to lure him away and then entered the building and struck?”

Odelia smiled. “Exactly what I was thinking.” Her smile disappeared. “Though my uncle doesn’t seem to agree with me. He seems to think Dan is Heather’s killer.”

“Your uncle has been known to be wrong before,” I pointed out.

Chase had returned and said, “They found the victim’s hotel room. She was staying at the Star.”

It was our cue to hurry out of Odelia’s office and head over to the Hampton Cove Star, the town’s premium hotel. Odelia and Chase hurried over, with Dooley and I following at a slower pace.

“A priest, a rabbi and a woolly mammoth walk into a bar,” said Dooley, and I eyed him strangely.

“Dooley, what’s with you and these lame jokes?” I asked.

“Do you really think my jokes are lame?” he asked, looking a little hurt.

“Well, they’re definitely not funny.”

“Oh, but Max, you have to laugh. It’s very important. Maybe we shouldn’t even be involved in this murder case. Murder is not a laughing matter, and you should be laughing, laughing, laughing!”

Now I like to laugh as much as the next cat, don’t get me wrong, but this obsession with jokes that Dooley was displaying frankly struck me as unhealthy.

“Look, if you want to laugh, Dooley, maybe we can watch a funny movie tonight. I’m sure Odelia and Chase would love nothing more than to sit down after a long day and watch something funny.” Because in that respect Dooley was right, of course: murder is not a funny business.

“Oh, that would be so great,” said Dooley, cheering up considerably. “We could watch funny movies every day from now on. It’s very important.”

We’d arrived at the hotel, and walked in. A police car was parked right in front, and all we had to do was follow Abe Cornwall into the elevator to be taken to the right place.

Abe, whose hair was pointing in every direction as usual, eyed us with amusement. “Why is it that wherever Odelia is, you guys are hanging out there, too?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question, I presumed, for Abe doesn’t exactly speak our language.

The elevator jerked to a stop and we got out. Abe heaved a weary sigh. “You know, this murder business is getting old,” he said, even though I assumed he didn’t think we’d understand. “Why do people insist on killing each other? Why can’t they just get along?”

“You’re absolutely right,” I responded. “It is getting old.”

My words made the coroner look down at me in wonder. Then he laughed. “For a moment there I thought you knew what I was talking about!”

And shaking his grizzled head he walked into a room whose door was open, and where plenty of people were milling about. And the moment I entered there was that pervasive scent again: the one that was also in Dan’s office. And it only took me a moment to know why: on the little desk, a nice collection of garden gnomes had been placed, and behind them a large, signed and framed picture of Maria Power.

Chapter 10

Odelia glanced around the room. Whoever this Heather Gallop had been, she wasn’t one of those people who make a mess of their hotel rooms. The woman’s clothes were meticulously hung in the closet, and as she checked the small collection she saw that Heather had impeccable taste, too. Three very nice dresses that must have cost a pretty penny, and even an evening dress. Judging from the pile of underwear she hadn’t come to stay for a long time, at the most a week or so.

“I found her driver’s license, sir,” said the cop who’d phoned Chase. “Illinois,” he said as he handed the card to the detective.

“Why does a woman from Illinois travel all the way to Long Island to meet with Dan Goory?” Chase muttered. “To sell him a copy of a movie that doesn’t exist?”

The room was otherwise sparse: apart from the clothes in the closet, the suitcase under the bed and the gnomes and portrait on the table, there was nothing that gave a sense of the woman’s personality, or offered a glimpse into her life.

“I’ll see if I can’t get in touch with her folks back home,” said Chase. “See if we can’t lift the veil of who this woman was and what she was doing here.”

Odelia nodded. The receptionist had told them Heather had checked in three days ago, but he couldn’t recall her having received any visitors. He also knew she drove a rented car, which she’d parked in the hotel lot, and that she’d paid with a credit card, not cash, but apart from that, there wasn’t a lot he could tell them about the mystery woman.

“I doubt she flew in simply to engage in an affair with Dan,” said Odelia. As her uncle seemed to think, and presumably the entire population of Hampton Cove. At least no one would be holding Odelia’s pen when she wrote her article detailing that morning’s shocking events. She wasn’t going to allow the Gazette to become a forum to slander its founder and editor, so she’d already put the newspaper social media pages on lockdown. No one was going to slander her boss on his own platform. She’d see to that at least.

Of course she couldn’t control what people would say in the Hampton Cove Facebook group, or on the streets and in the shops.

All she could do was find the real killer, because she was absolutely certain Dan was innocent.

Chase got another phone call, and when he returned moments later he looked a little baffled.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Well, I called UPS after what you told me. That was them returning my call.”

“And?” she asked. “What did they say?”

“That there never was a delivery at the Gazette this morning. Whoever this UPS man was, he most certainly wasn’t sent by them.”

She shared a look of concern with her partner. “Which means he was probably the killer,” she said as she voiced the thought that was going through both their heads.

“Come on, Dan,” Chief Alec said, leaning back in his chair. “How long have we known each other? And here you sit insulting my intelligence by lying to me!”

“I’m not lying, Alec!” said Dan. “I’m telling you the truth!”

They were seated across the table from one another in interview room number one, and frankly Alec was quickly losing his patience with the newspaperman.

“Look, we both know how this is going to go,” said Alec. “No judge will believe you when you tell your cockamamie story about your windshield wipers.”

“But it happened! Just check my phone!”

“I did. You got a call at the time you said you did. Unknown caller. Could have been an insurance company trying to sell you life insurance. Could have been a mobile phone salesman. Could have been anyone.” He leaned forward. “Just get it off your chest, Dan. Trust me, you’ll feel much better when you do. So who was she, huh? Old girlfriend? Was she pregnant, is that it? You lost it when she said she wanted to keep the baby?”

“Look, how many times do I have to tell you: I never saw the woman before. She called me out of the blue, and told me she wanted to meet. So I said sure, drop by any time. So she said she’d come in at eight thirty, and later sent me a one-word text.”

“Gnomeo.”

“Exactly. Which is how I knew it had something to do with the club.”

“The Gnomeos.”

“Right. Happens all the time that complete strangers come up to me with information they think might be relevant for the Gnomeos, or the magazine.”

“So if you arranged to meet at eight thirty, why was she dead when Odelia walked in at eight ten?”

“I told you—I stepped out for just a minute.”

“Your windshield wipers.”

“Exactly!”

“You actually told her to meet you at eight, didn’t you? So you could avoid her meeting Odelia? You didn’t want nosy parkers around when you two hooked up?”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“Only Odelia was early, wasn’t she? Arrived before you could get rid of the body. Is that why you ran out of your office, to bring your car around so you could get rid of the body?”

“In full view of the whole street? You’re crazy, Alec.”

Alec wagged a finger in the man’s face. “Watch what you say, Dan. I’m still chief of police.”

“You’re also a fool if you think I’d murder a woman I’ve never even seen before and try to get rid of the body by shoving her body into the trunk of my car.”

“Ha!” said Alec with a note of triumph in his voice. “I never said trunk.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

“I don’t know, Dan,” said the Chief, shaking his head. “I’m disappointed in you, that’s all I can say.”

“Well, at least that’s something we have in common,” Dan snapped. “Cause I’m disappointed in you. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“What did I tell you about watching your tone?”

“You’re wasting time. While you’re harassing me the real killer is getting away.”

“Oh? And who do you think the real killer is?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Jack Warner, of course.”

“The chairman of the Maria Power Society?”

“Of course! He must have found out this woman was going to hand me something of value and wanted to stop her. So he killed her and took whatever it was she was going to give me and is now laughing his ass off at the incompetence of our local police force.”

“And what could possibly be so valuable that it would be worth killing for?” asked the Chief, not hiding the skepticism in his voice.

“The only remaining copy of Rupert Finkelstein’s Romeo and Juliet,” said Dan.

The Chief stared at the man. “That’s just an urban legend.”

“An urban legend that just might be real.”

As a big fan of Maria Power himself, and a member of the Gnomeos, it struck Alec that Dan was probably playing him. “Finkelstein destroyed every single copy of that movie. It’s the story we all know and regret.”

“Well, I heard differently, and trust me when I say that Jack Warner believes it is true, too. There must have been a copy left, and somehow Heather Gallop managed to get her hands on it and was about to offer it to me.” He slumped. “And so Jack killed her for it.”

Chapter 11

Once again Dooley and I were invited to sit in on an interview with a suspect. This particular suspect was a man named Jack Warner. When Chase got the call from his superior officer—Odelia’s uncle—to have a quiet word with Mr. Warner, Odelia had pleaded successfully with her future husband to be included in the tête-à-tête, and of course she’d negotiated for Dooley and me to be included, hoping we could chat with the man’s pets, if he had any.

Much to my dismay, though, Jack Warner was a man utterly devoid of pets of any persuasion, though by his own admission he’d once owned a Chihuahua, whose urn now took pride of place on his mantel. A notion I found a little creepy, to be honest with you.

Mr. Warner lived in an apartment on the second floor of a new building, and was scrupulously clean for a man who lived alone. On the wall over that same mantel a huge portrait of Maria Power hung, smiling at all and sundry from her vantage point, and there were several glass display cases, much of the same design as the ones in Dan’s office, and they even contained much of the same type of paraphernalia: film posters, pictures of the same Maria Power in what I assumed was her Hollywood heyday, a bust of the actress, and another one of her dresses hung on a mannequin.

It almost seemed to me as if the woman had decided to give away all of her dresses and now had nothing left to wear.

“So tell me, Mr. Warner,” said Chase, launching into the interview with his usual aplomb. “You’ve been accused by Dan Goory of having snuck into his office this morning and murdering his visitor, a woman who had something valuable to share with Dan, something associated with Maria Power. What do you have to say to that?”

Jack Warner laughed heartily. He was a man in his late sixties dressed in a nice pink polo shirt, gray slacks, his hair neatly coiffed, his mustache nicely clipped. All in all he looked just like his apartment: perfectly appointed and squeakily clean.

“Dan said that? You have got to be kidding.”

“I never kid when I’m on duty,” said Chase seriously.

Mr. Warner quickly sobered. “Well, what can I say? It’s ridiculous, of course. Perfect nonsense. Are you sure the woman is dead? Dan is a great practical joker. He could simply be playing a trick on you—and me. At my expense, of course.”

“You and Dan don’t get along?”

“Oh, everybody knows that,” said the man with an airy wave of the hand. “I run the Society, he runs the Gnomeos, and the water between the two clubs runs very deep indeed.”

“So you’re the chairman of the Maria Power Society,” said Chase, jotting down a note.

“That’s right. The oldest and most popular official Maria Power fan club.”

“Which is exactly what Dan says,” Chase remarked.

“Of course he does. Look, we launched in October 1976 and he launched his Gnomeos—ridiculous name, if you ask me—in November. So I ask you: which one of us is the oldest? We are, of course, and it’s something that’s always stung. To this day Dan can’t help but smear my good name and say the most horrible things about the Society.”

“But… you’re both fans of Maria Power, right?” said Odelia.

“Look around,” said Jack. “What do you think?”

“So… shouldn’t you be best friends instead of enemies?”

“It’s frankly impossible to be friends with that man,” Jack scoffed. “In the past I’ve suggested we join forces but he shot me down each time. Take the Maria Power retrospective, for instance. That was my idea! But of course Dan had to muscle in and take over. And now he claims it was his idea all along. Which of course is a blatant lie, but since he’s the big newspaperman everyone believes him.” He shrugged and flicked a piece of lint from his slacks. “I’ve learned to simply ignore Mr. Goory’s delusional antics.”

“Can you tell us where you were this morning between eight and eight fifteen, Mr. Warner?” asked Chase, getting down to brass tacks.

“I was right here, enjoying my breakfast and reading the newspaper—not the Gazette, mind you. How anyone can read that drivel is frankly beyond me—no offense to you, my dear. I’m sure you’re a wonderful reporter. Working for the wrong man.”

“Can anyone verify that?”

“Well, no. I live alone, you see. My dear wife passed away three years ago, and it’s just been me and Maria ever since.” He gestured to the portrait of the actress above the mantel, a wistful expression on his face.

“Dan claims that Heather Gallop might have had a copy of Finkelstein’s Romeo and Juliet in her possession,” said Odelia, causing Mr. Warner’s eyes to twinkle with delight.

“Oh, goodness gracious. Another old wives’ tale. When are you going to stop believing that man? Of course she didn’t have a copy of Finkelstein’s Romeo and Juliet. No one does. The director destroyed every single print of that movie. Everybody knows that.”

“So you don’t think she was going to hand over a copy to Dan?” asked Chase.

“Of course not! There are no copies. A pity, naturally, because by all accounts it must have been the most amazing picture. It established Maria Power as a leading lady straight out of the gate, and destroyed the career of its director in the process. A beautiful story, don’t you think? Out of the ashes of Rupert Finkelstein’s career rose the most wonderful actress the world has ever seen. A little bit like A Star is Born, though without the dreadful music.” He heaved a sigh and showed us his arm. “Look. Just talking about it gives me goosebumps.”

“So you wouldn’t know anything about Heather Gallop or why she was in town to meet Dan?”

“Don’t know and don’t care. If you ask me she’s probably an old flame of Dan’s—the man is an inveterate Lothario, even at his advanced age. She must have told him she was leaving him for another man and he must have flipped. Goory has the most horrendous temper. But you know that, don’t you, dear?”

Odelia said, “Actually, I don’t. And I must say I don’t recognize the Dan I know in your description.”

“Then you’ve been very, very lucky, Miss Poole.” He gave a little shake of the head. “By the same token that dead woman could have been you.”

Chapter 12

Tex arrived home feeling only slightly more uplifted than when he’d set out for the office that morning. Examining strange and multi-colored spots on patients’ backs and gazing deeply into hairy earholes, infected throats and even poking his (gloved) fingers into one man’s backside for a prostate exam were all things designed to take one’s mind off any problem vexing it, and so by the time he’d sent his last patient on her way he’d almost forgotten that some dastardly demon had absconded with his gnomes the previous night.

Almost, but not quite.

And so by the time he’d changed into his Bermudas and loud Hawaiian shirt and was standing in his backyard surveying his domain, his melancholy was back in full force.

He’d asked his brother-in-law to investigate the case but hadn’t heard back. He’d asked his future son-in-law the same thing and hadn’t heard back either.

Fat chance the police would put every last available officer on a case as inconsequential as the theft of a few gnomes. Still, he’d hoped for more. After all, he’d practically been feeding Alec from his own purse ever since the man’s wife died, and he’d clasped Chase to his bosom, even going so far as to allow the young man to call him ‘Dad.’

He shuddered at the thought, then spotted movement from the corner of his eye and wandered over to the fence that separated his patch of suburban heaven from the next.

“Hey, Ted,” he said a little morosely as he leaned on the fence and addressed his neighbor Ted Trapper, who was busy polishing one of his own garden gnomes.

It was a hobby both men shared, and Tex liked to think it had brought them closer.

“Hey, Tex,” said Ted, looking a lot happier than Tex was feeling. “How was your day?”

“So so,” said Tex. “Yours?”

“Oh, you know. Dealing with office politics all day long doesn’t exactly uplift and inspire. But then I come home to find these sweet precious babies and any thought of strangling my psychopathic boss goes right out the window and I’m sane again.”

Tex idly glanced in the direction of Ted’s ‘babies’ and was surprised to find that they looked almost exactly like his own, now absent gnomes.

“Say, Ted. Your collection seems to have grown considerably,” he said, staring at one gnome that looked the spitting image of the crowning piece of his own collection. It was one of those fat jolly gnomes with its face stuck in a rictus grin and its apple-cheeked features just a little too happy for comfort. In fact he could probably feature in a Patterson novel as a serial killer about to slay victim twenty-three in a most gruesome manner.

“Yeah, I’ve been splurging,” said Ted, sounding a little guilty but not much. “Marcie isn’t too happy about it, let me tell you. And I did promise her I’d stop now. She feels my collection is about as big as she’ll tolerate, so there’s that. And some of these guys don’t come cheap.” He chuckled. “Listen to me go on. Of course I don’t have to tell you. You have some of the nicest gnomes in the neighborhood. Pride of your collection and all that. I have to confess, though, Tex, that living next door to you and seeing your frankly fantastic collection has given me that boost to go the extra mile myself.” He grinned. “Nothing like a bit of healthy competition between neighbors, eh?”

A look of suspicion had traveled up Tex’s face and he now asked, “Can I see that big one over there for a moment, Ted? Yeah, the one with the pea-green bib.”

Ted dutifully handed Tex the big gnome with the pea-green bib and Tex turned it over in his hands. When he saw the big red T on the gnome’s undercarriage he snorted wildly.

“What’s wrong, Tex?” said Ted, cautiously taking the gnome from his neighbor’s hands.

But Tex was too overwhelmed for speech. Instead he was breathing loudly through both nostrils, like a bull about to charge a matador and gore him.

“Do you want me to get you a doctor?” Ted laughed and slapped his brow. “Oh, silly me. You are a doctor! What am I saying?”

Tex finally found speech again, but when he opened his mouth, expecting fire and brimstone to pour out, instead a long drawn-out scream erupted: “THIEEEEEEEEEF!”

“What?” said Ted, stepping back a few paces.

“YOU’RE A THIEF!” Tex screamed at the top of his lungs. “YOU STOLE MY GNOMES!”

“What? I did not!” said Ted, retreating even further from his fire-breathing neighbor.

“That is my gnome and you know it!”

“Are you crazy? This is my gnome,” said Ted, cradling the gnome, as one would a baby.

“It still has the big red T I wrote on the bottom! Check it!”

Ted checked it and frowned. “Gee. There is a T.”

“That’s my T! I write T on all of my gnomes. T for Tex. So I can catch filthy thieves like you in the act—THIEEEEEEEF!”

“But, Tex, really,” said the man, growing a little white around the nostrils. It’s never pleasant to be accused of theft, and especially not by a neighbor having gone berserk.

“You stole my gnomes—confess, you THIEF!”

“What’s going on here?” asked Marcie, coming out of the house, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“Tex says I stole his gnome,” said Ted, now looking like a kicked puppy.

“Is this true, Tex? Are you accusing my husband of being a thief?”

“Yes, Marcie, I am,” said Tex. “Because that’s what your husband is. A filthy THIEF!”

“Oh, will you stop shouting,” said Marcie with a frown.

“He says I stole this gnome,” said Ted, showing his wife the gnome in question.

“There’s a big letter T on the bottom of that gnome. I wrote that,” said Tex, breathing stertorously. If a doctor had been present, and that doctor had been a different doctor from the one now looking close to a heart attack, he would probably have advised Tex to take it easy. But since there wasn’t, it was up to Marcie to take the sensible approach.

She opened the little gate a previous homeowner had once installed and that connected both gardens and said, “Tex, come over here a minute, will you?” Once Tex had complied, she added, “Now sit down. You too, Ted.”

Both men reluctantly sat down at the garden table, Tex shooting fire with his eyes, insofar as a mild doctor can shoot fire with his eyes, and Ted sitting at the edge of his chair, ready to bolt if Tex made the slightest move to violate the physical integrity of his person.

“Now let’s thresh this thing out,” said Marcie, grabbing the gnome from her husband’s hands and turning it upside down. “Where did you get this gnome, Ted?”

“I… I don’t remember,” said Ted.

“Hah!” said Tex.

“Quiet, Tex,” said Marcie. “What do you mean, you don’t remember?”

“Well, I did drop by the garden center yesterday to buy a fresh batch, but I honestly don’t remember every single one of them or their exact particulars.”

“How many did you buy?”

“Um, a dozen?” he said, giving his wife a sheepish look.

“Oh, Ted,” said Marcie with a sigh. “And how many did you have?”

“Two dozen.”

“So that makes three dozen. So let’s count, shall we?”

All three of them started counting the gnomes in Ted and Marcie’s backyard. It immediately became clear there were far more than thirty-six gnomes littering the place. In fact there were forty-eight.

“How is that possible?” murmured Ted.

“Because you stole mine!” Tex cried, and made to get up and wring Ted’s neck.

Marcie pushed him back down and said crisply, “Ted, did you steal Tex’s gnomes?”

“No, of course I didn’t!” her husband cried.

“Hah!”

“Quiet, Tex. So where do these extra twelve come from?”

“I don’t know!”

Marcie had gotten up and was now checking a couple of the superfluous gnomes. “Some of these have the letter T on them,” she said.

“Those are all mine,” said Tex, getting up and collecting them from Marcie’s hands.

“I don’t know what to say, Tex,” she said apologetically.

“I swear on the heads of my kids that I didn’t steal your gnomes, Tex!” Ted cried, much perturbed.

But Tex didn’t even deign the gnome thief with a response. Instead he checked every single gnome in that backyard until he’d retrieved his own dozen gnomes. Then, his arms laden with gnomes big and small, he stalked off.

“Tex, buddy, please!” said Ted.

But Tex had left the backyard.

Chapter 13

Vesta glanced up at the impressive church steeple and made the sign of the cross.

“What are we doing here?” asked Scarlett, watching with some measure of bewilderment as her friend displayed all the hallmarks of a religious person, which she hadn’t thought Vesta actually was.

“We’re adding another formidable recruit to our already formidable team,” said Vesta.

“Father Reilly? Are you sure?”

“A priest knows, Scarlett,” Vesta pointed out. “In fact a priest knows all. People come in to confess, and he writes it all down in his little black book. Criminals, sinners, or even righteous souls confessing some minor transgression. Father Reilly knows all and sees all.”

“I think that’s God,” said Scarlett, but Vesta was undeterred.

“If we can recruit Father Reilly to our cause, crime in Hampton Cove will be all but extinct,” she said, and crossed the threshold to step into the church proper. It took some effort to push through those heavy oak doors, and then they were inside, in that cool and semi-dark place that was St. John’s Church, the town’s center of all that was holy.

As it happened, Father Reilly was replenishing the stoup near the entrance as they strode in, and smiled in greeting. “Vesta. Scarlett. What brings you here?”

“We have an offer for you, Francis,” said Vesta. “An offer you can’t refuse.”

Father Reilly’s equanimity diminished to a slight degree. “Is that so?”

“We’re launching Hampton Cove’s first-ever neighborhood watch,” Scarlett explained, glancing around a little uneasily. She hadn’t set foot inside a church in ages, and as Hampton Cove’s number one Jezebel now wondered if the gates of hell would suddenly open up underneath her feet and swallow her whole. She disliked sulfur, or white-hot flames licking at her feet. Just to be on the safe side, therefore, she stayed close to Father Reilly. Satan would think twice before swallowing him up whole, wouldn’t he?

“A neighborhood watch, eh?” said the priest, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

“Yeah, and we want you on our team,” said Vesta, wasting no time coming to the point. “You’d be an incredible asset,” she added when the priest frowned in confusion.

“I’m not sure that would be wise,” he said now, indicating he was going to prove a tough sell.

“And why is that?” asked Vesta, her face taking on its most mulish expression.

“Well, for one thing I’m a man of God, and men of God don’t usually involve themselves in local politics.”

“This got nothing to do with politics, Francis,” said Vesta. “This is your duty as a citizen. Don’t you want our streets to be safe for all to walk on, even in the middle of the night? Don’t you want our kids to sleep peacefully in their beds, safe in the knowledge that no child snatcher is crawling through the window ready to snatch to their heart’s content? And don’t you want the proud homeowner to relax, knowing no one is going to spray graffiti on his picket fence, or burgle his safe or even steal his Lab or schnauzer?”

“Well, of course I want the members of my little flock to be safe,” said the priest. “Who doesn’t? But that’s why we have a police force, Vesta. A most capable police force consisting of brave and dedicated police officers, always ready to give of their best for the good of the community. Why only this morning Chief Alec was in here to talk to me about the disappearance of my gnomes.”

Scarlett frowned at this. “Did you say gnomes?”

“Gnomes, yes. Several of my most precious garden gnomes seem to have gone missing overnight. It is a mystery most baffling. A crime most heinous. And Chief Alec said he’d make it his top priority to find out who absconded with my precious treasures.”

Vesta and Scarlett shared a look of concern. “You’re not the only one whose gnomes have gone missing, Francis,” said Vesta. “It happened to my son-in-law, too. No less than twelve of his gnomes have been taken from his backyard under cover of darkness.”

“Sounds to me like a gang,” said Scarlett, studying the granite church floor for signs of hell fire licking at her ankles. “An international gang of gnome thieves,” she specified.

“Now, see, this is exactly the kind of thing our neighborhood watch is going to take care of,” Vesta said with a note of triumph in her voice. She suddenly reminded Scarlett of Zig Ziglar or Brian Tracy or one of those other super-super-salesmen.

“I’m sure your son has the situation well in hand,” said the priest, waving a dismissive hand.

“Ha!” said Vesta, in a scoffing manner.

“Ha!” Scarlett echoed, equally scoffing.

“If you think Alec is going to spend one minute of his time looking for your precious gnomes you’re sorely mistaken,” said Vesta.

“Not a single minute,” Scarlett emphasized. Out of habit she’d been lightly jiggling her décolletage, before realizing this probably wasn’t the right way to make a priest do one’s bidding, so she stopped jiggling.

“I just happen to know Alec is knee-deep in a murder case right now,” said Vesta. “So your gnomes are the furthest thing from his mind.”

“A murder case!” Father Reilly exclaimed, and quickly genuflected, causing Vesta, too, to mimic the gesture and even Scarlett to follow suit, though with some reluctance.

“Yeah, some blond babe got whacked by Dan Goory,” said Vesta.

“Not Dan Goory!” Father Reilly cried.

“Yes, Dan Goory,” said Vesta with a measure of relish. “So you see, no one is looking for your gnomes, Francis. We gotta take matters into our own hands if we want justice to prevail.”

“Well, if you put it that way,” said Father Reilly thoughtfully.

“I am putting it that way. And what’s more—it stands to reason that if your gnomes were snatched, and Tex’s gnomes were snatched, there’s bound to be more victims. In fact it wouldn’t surprise me if all the gnomes of Hampton Cove are in mortal danger.”

“An international gang,” Scarlett repeated.

“So do you want your gnomes back or not?” asked Vesta. “Cause if you don’t, that’s fine by me. I’ll bet whoever took them is probably melting them down as we speak. They did the same thing with Kim Kardashian’s jewelry when she was robbed in Paris that time.”

Scarlett wasn’t sure if gnomes could be melted down, but it sounded good. “Yeah, they’re probably lighting a fire at your poor gnomes’ feet right now,” she said, nodding.

A distinct look of anguish came over the priest’s face, and he clutched at his white hair. “Oh, no! My poor, poor gnomes,” he whimpered.

It surprised Scarlett that a grown man could be so attached to a bunch of ugly little men made of plaster and painted in the most hideous colors, but what did she know?

“So are you with us?” asked Vesta, holding out her hand.

After a moment of hesitation, the priest stuck out his hand and shook Vesta’s, then Scarlett’s. Scarlett, once again out of habit, bent over slightly to offer the man a closer look at her cleavage before remembering where she was, at which point she straightened and gave the man a cheerful grin. Father Reilly, looking a little dizzy now, and out of sorts, blinked a few times, then murmured, “Excellent. Yes, quite excellent.”

Chapter 14

That evening, dinner at the Pooles was a big affair. The Poole family was there, of course, but also Uncle Alec and his girlfriend Charlene Butterwick, who was Hampton Cove’s mayor, and even Vesta’s dear friend Scarlett.

Dooley and I sat at the sidelines, as did Harriet and Brutus. In fact the four of us were ensconced on the porch, while the humans were all seated around the large garden table Marge had set for the occasion.

The weather was excellent, and so was the mood.

This may surprise you, as the day hadn’t been without its moments of tragedy. Uncle Alec had suffered defeat when he’d been forced to let Dan Goory walk free, unable to pin the murder of Heather Gallop on him with a sufficient degree of finality. Tex was still sulking after the shocking discovery that his neighbor Ted Trapper had been the one behind the terrible theft of his gnomes. And Odelia and Chase were still nowhere in their investigation of the murder of that same Heather Gallop.

As far as I was concerned, I wasn’t feeling all that happy either, as the matter of the mouse invasion still weighed heavily on my mind, and I still hadn’t seen my way toward a solution satisfactory for all.

“I talked to Rufus today,” Harriet said, tackling the topic as if reading my mind. “And he promised he’d come over tonight to talk to the mice.”

“Rufus?” I asked, much surprised by this denouement. “Why Rufus?”

“Because we have all failed in our mouse diplomacy,” said Harriet. “And I was thinking that maybe a giant dog like Rufus could succeed to talk some sense into Hector and Helga.”

It was definitely an idea worth exploring, I had to admit.

“Are mice afraid of dogs?” asked Dooley.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But it’s worth finding out. He is a great deal bigger and potentially more threatening than the four of us, even when working in tandem.”

“I think it’s a lousy idea,” grumbled Brutus, who for some reason wasn’t a big fan of the sheepdog.

“Oh, sugar buns,” said Harriet with a light tinkling laugh. “Stop sulking for a moment, will you? Rufus is simply going to talk to the mice and then he’ll be on his way again.”

“So a priest, a rabbi and a jackrabbit walk into a bar,” Dooley began, but I immediately silenced him. I frankly wasn’t in the mood for any more of his lame jokes.

“I heard you made an arrest today?” said Gran as she expertly sliced through her piece of steak.

“Yeah, and then I let him go again,” said Uncle Alec, munching somberly on a helping of peas in butter sauce. “No evidence.”

“Oh, Uncle Alec,” said Odelia. “You don’t really think Dan is a killer, do you? The man can’t even swat a fly without asking it for forgiveness first.”

“In my experience the most obvious answer is usually the right one,” said Uncle Alec. “Dan was there, and so was the victim, and his fingerprints are all over the murder weapon, which, by the way, also belonged to him.”

“What about the UPS guy?” asked Chase, helping himself to a helping of mashed potatoes.

“What about him?”

“UPS claims they never sent anyone, so it stands to reason he could be the killer.”

Uncle Alec grumbled something, clearly not convinced.

“Are you sure this Heather Gallop person was murdered?” asked Charlene. “Maybe she simply tripped and fell and hit her head?”

“She was murdered, all right,” said Alec. “With a garden gnome, if you please.”

At the mention of the word ‘gnome’ Tex looked up sharply, rising from the gloom in which he’d been cloaked for the past twenty minutes. “Did you say gnome?” he asked.

“Tex is very upset,” Marge explained for the benefit of the rest of the company. “He discovered today that our neighbor Ted Trapper stole his gnomes.”

“And had the gall to deny the whole thing!” said Tex, his faith in humanity clearly severely shaken.

“Are you absolutely sure that Ted took your gnomes?” asked Gran.

“I picked them out of his garden myself,” said Tex. “Here, let me show you.” Animation had returned to his limbs and he got up and disappeared into the house.

“He keeps his collection of gnomes under lock and key now,” said Marge. “Afraid they’ll be stolen again.”

“Father Reilly’s gnomes were stolen,” said Scarlett as she frowned at a pea, pronged on a tine of her fork. Scarlett isn’t a big eater, and the amount of butter Marge likes to use when preparing her dishes had probably thrown her. You can’t maintain a figure like Scarlett’s on buttered spuds, veggies and steak. “We think it’s a gang of international gnome thieves, isn’t that right, Vesta?”

“Yeah, definitely a gang,” Gran confirmed. “We talked to several more people and so far three of them have had their gnomes snatched.”

“Surely Ted Trapper didn’t steal them all,” said Charlene. Charlene is one of those mayors who always sees the best in people, and it was clearly hard for her to believe that Ted Trapper would be an international gnome thief, or even a national one.

Tex had returned with a gnome clutched in his arms, darting nervous glances in the direction of the fence that divides his garden from Ted’s, as if afraid the man would suddenly pop up and snatch his gnome. “Look here,” said the doctor, and he turned the gnome upside down. “See this?”

We all craned our necks to see. On the bottom of the gnome a big red letter T had been written in permanent red marker.

“This is how I proved that Ted is a common thief.” He turned to his brother-in-law. “I’d like to file charges, Alec. Can I file charges? I feel very strongly I should file charges.”

“Sure you can file charges, Tex,” said Alec, as he ladled a second—or it could have been a third or even a fourth—helping of extra-buttery mashed potatoes onto his plate.

“Easy now, darling,” said Charlene, placing a hand on the Chief’s arm. “Your diet, remember?”

Alec gave her a look of alarm, then reluctantly returned the potatoes to the glass bowl and set down his plate—now completely devoid of food, buttery or otherwise.

“Um, come into the police station tomorrow,” he said. “Dolores will take your statement.”

“Are you sure about this, Tex?” asked Marge. “We don’t want to create trouble with the neighbors now do we?”

“I didn’t create the trouble,” said Tex. “He did,” he added, pointing the gnome’s pointy red hat in the Trappers’ direction.

Just then, Ted’s head appeared over the fence, caught sight of Tex viciously waving his gnome, gulped, and sank out of view again.

Clearly things weren’t hunky-dory in pleasant suburbia.

“So what’s going to happen next?” asked Charlene, who likes to stay on top of things in her town. She’d addressed her question at Odelia. “With the murder case, I mean?”

“Well, we interviewed Jack Warner today. He runs the Maria Power Society, one of two official Maria Power fan clubs in town, and he thinks Dan is the culprit.”

“Ha!” said Uncle Alec, clearly feeling justified by Jack Warner’s words.

“And why does he think that?” asked Charlene, as she directed a critical glance at the sizable piece of chocolate pie Uncle Alec had scooped onto his dessert plate.

“There seems to exist a great degree of rivalry between the Maria Power Society and the Gnomeos,” Chase explained. “Both are dedicated to keeping the memory of Maria Power alive, and their leaders have had it in for one another for years.”

“Is she still alive, this Maria Power?” asked Scarlett.

“Oh, yes,” said Marge. “In fact she lives right here in Hampton Cove. Though no one has seen her in years. She likes to keep herself to herself. Our very own Greta Garbo.”

“I think we should probably go and have a chat with her,” said Odelia. “See what she has to say about this fan club business—and the murder, of course.”

I detected now, through the hole in the fence, that Rufus was trying to attract our attention.

“Rufus is ready to join us,” said Harriet, who’d noticed the same thing. “Are you guys ready?”

I sighed a deep sigh. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said. I didn’t want to admit it in front of the others, but I found the prospect of four cats having to enlist the services of a dog to help us chase a flock of mice from our basement humiliating to a degree. I mean, if word got out, the four of us would be the laughing stock of all of Hampton Cove.

Then again, what else could we do? Rufus, as I saw it, was our last hope. And lucky for us, cats and dogs don’t usually seek out each other’s company, so chances of Rufus blabbing to our friends about this were minimal to non-existent.

And as we made our way into Odelia’s backyard, Rufus in tow, Dooley remarked, “You’re looking so unhappy, Max. Do you want me to tell you another joke?”

“No, Dooley. That won’t be necessary.”

I glanced over to Rufus, who gave me a goofy grin. Clearly the joke was on me.

Chapter 15

I have to admit I found it touching that Harriet would try to help me deal with the mouse issue. Though I wasn’t entirely happy with her solution, it was nice of her to cross over into enemy camp and recruit a dog to do my dirty work.

We entered the house through the pet flap, as is our habit, before I realized Rufus would never fit—in fact I sometimes have a hard time fitting through the darn thing myself.

Lucky for us Odelia had left the sliding glass door open and Rufus could easily enter the house that way.

“Nice place you got here,” said Rufus, admiring Odelia’s living room and kitchen. I caught him casting a curious glance in the direction of the four kibble bowls Odelia likes to set out for our enjoyment, and figured when this was all over, we’d probably have to pay the big fluffy dog in kibble. Mounds and mounds of kibble.

It was a sacrifice I was willing to make, though.

We passed through the basement door and paused on the first step. The peace treaty I’d negotiated with the mouse colony divides the house into different zones, not unlike Berlin at the end of World War II: the living room and the upstairs are ours, and the basement is reserved for Hector and Helga, which means it’s a no-go zone for us cats.

But since the mice have been trespassing into our zones so often recently I just figured the treaty was null and void.

“Let’s do this,” I said therefore, and trotted down the stairs, three cats and one sheepdog in my wake.

Arriving in the basement I sniffed and had to admit that Hector and Helga ran a tight ship. Feces-wise, I mean. I didn’t detect even a hint of mouse droppings.

“Hey, what are you doing here!” immediately a voice cried out. It belonged to Hector, the paterfamilias, and when he became aware of the presence of Rufus, I thought I could detect a hint of fear in his beady little eyes.

His little nose rose up into the air and he sniffed and wiggled his tail freely.

“Hector,” I said. “I’m afraid this cannot go on. Your offspring has been invading our space and absconding with our food supply so often now Odelia’s household budget has taken a serious dent. When she decided to adopt us, she allowed for four extra mouths to feed, and did so happily, as she loves cats and that’s what cat people do. But she never budgeted for one hundred extra little mouths to feed, if you see what I mean.”

“Two hundred,” Hector said as he eyed Rufus suspiciously.

“Two hundred!” I cried. “This situation is simply unsustainable, Hector. And it’s not fair. You promised me you wouldn’t steal the food from our table. You gave me your solemn word that you would forage outside. That you would live on the seeds and the bugs that are reaped aplenty in the gardens of our neighborhood. But instead you simply steal our kibble and raid Odelia’s fridge, pantry and cupboards. It’s simply not fair.”

“Oh, tush,” said Hector. “I never made any such promises.”

“Yes, you did!”

“You did, Hector,” Dooley confirmed. “I was there when you and Helga told us.”

“That’s the problem with you cats,” said Hector. “You only hear what you want to hear. I never said anything about living on seeds and bugs alone. You try to raise two hundred kids on seeds and bugs. I’d like to see you try.”

“What’s going on here?” asked a second voice. Helga came crawling out of a tiny hole in the wall and seemed startled when she saw the collected gathering. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be down here,” she said immediately.

“Max has brought a canine associate,” said Hector. “I didn’t catch your name, buddy,” he added, addressing Rufus.

“I’m Rufus,” said Rufus. “And I’m here to negotiate with you guys.”

“Well, negotiate away,” said Helga, crossing two tiny arms over her tiny chest. Her tiny little nose was waggling excitedly, but her face spelled storm.

“Max claims he never promised to share his food with us,” said Hector.

“Oh, yes, you did,” said Helga. “And you’re not going to backtrack now. You said we could eat whatever we wanted. That we were your treasured guests.”

“I never said any such thing!” I cried, getting more and more indignant.

“That’s cats for you,” said Hector, shaking his head. “You simply can’t trust them.”

“Devious creatures,” his wife agreed.

“Look, I would advise you to take a hike,” said Hector. “This is our basement and you have no business coming down here and stinking up the place with your cat stink.”

“Yeah, this cat and dog smell is the last thing we need,” said Helga.

“You’re telling us we stink?” asked Harriet, also getting worked up now.

“Let’s just say this particular ‘odor’ you guys spread is the last thing a growing mouse needs,” said Hector.

More mice had crawled out of different holes in the wall, and we were now surrounded by dozens and dozens of the tiny creatures. And all of them were throwing us less-than-friendly glances. It was a strange experience, to be treated as hostiles in our own home.

“Look, you guys have got to move out,” said Rufus now, finally remembering the reason for his visit. “This is not your home and I think it’s time for you to move along.”

“We’re not going anywhere, fleabag,” said Hector. “Who are you anyway?”

“I’m Ted and Marcie’s dog,” Rufus explained. “We live next door to Tex and Marge.”

Helga narrowed her eyes. “I know you. You scared the living daylights out of our cousins Molly and Rupert, didn’t you? Not nice of you, dog. Not nice at all.”

Molly and Rupert had once lived in Odelia’s basement, before moving one basement over into Tex and Marge’s basement, and making a final move to Ted and Marcie’s.

“What happened to Molly and Rupert?” I asked now.

“They moved on,” said Rufus. “When Marcie put out mouse traps they figured it better to find some other place to infest.”

“Hey, that’s a very nasty thing to say, dog!” said Hector.

“Yeah, we’re clean mice, and we have every right to be here, same as you,” Helga added.

It was clear we weren’t getting anywhere. If I’d hoped the presence of Rufus would make a difference, it clearly hadn’t. These mice weren’t scared of anyone, even a big dog.

Harriet gave Rufus a poke in the rear. “Do something,” she hissed.

Rufus, not exactly the fiercest dog in the universe, was clearly at a loss.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“Scare them!” said Harriet.

“Scare them?” The concept seemed alien to the good-natured mutt.

“Yeah. Scare the bejeesus out of them.”

Rufus gave me a questioning look, and I shrugged. I didn’t know how to be scary any more than he did, so he was on his own there.

“Bark,” said Brutus. “Isn’t that what dogs do?”

Rufus did as he was told: he opened his mouth and emitted a short bark.

Hector and Helga shared a look of confusion, then started laughing.

Rufus tried again, this time putting more pep into his performance. He barked a couple of times, and even snarled. The result was two hundred mice rolling on the floor laughing.

And it was with our tails between our legs that we finally emerged from the basement.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been laughed out of your own basement by a nest of mice. Well, let me tell you it’s not a pleasant experience. In fact it’s quite humiliating.

“I’m sorry, you guys,” Rufus said ruefully. “They’re a tough crowd, these mice of yours.”

And that, they most certainly were.

Chapter 16

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t look so sad,” said Charlene. “It’s for your own good.”

Alec muttered something under his breath. Charlene had taken away his slice of chocolate pie and returned it to the platter for someone else to enjoy. He’d watched its departure with a sinking feeling. He liked chocolate pie. In fact he loved the darn stuff.

“You know what the doctor said. If you don’t lose weight now you’re putting yourself at risk. Obesity is no laughing matter.”

“I’m not obese,” he grumbled.

“Yet. But you’re getting there.”

They were walking down the street, on their way to the Seabreeze Music Center, where the Maria Power retrospective was taking place.

Both of them were dressed as garden gnomes: Charlene as a pretty female gnome, Alec as a jolly and more bulbous male gnome. Their cheeks were red, their heads were adorned with white pointy caps, and they were dressed in yards of red and green felt.

More gnomes were also heading in the direction of the center, and as they drew closer, they were surrounded by gnomes of all shapes and sizes. It was a festive occasion, and a sight to behold. But Alec couldn’t enjoy it the way he would have liked. Not after the chairman of one of the two fan clubs had possibly murdered a woman, and not after Charlene had taken away a good-looking piece of chocolate pie he’d marked for his own.

“Look, I’ll bake you a cake tonight if you stop sulking,” said Charlene.

His face lit up. “You mean that?”

“Of course. Only my cake will be the low-fat, low-sugar, dairy-free, gluten-free healthy variety.”

He cut her a dubious look. “It’s going to taste horrible, is it?”

“It’s going to taste just as delicious as your sister’s high-fat, high-sugar, high-dairy, high-gluten variety. You won’t even taste the difference.”

Somehow he doubted it. But he was willing to overlook that. “You would really do that for me?” he asked, deeply touched. As a widower of fifteen years, he wasn’t used to a woman being this nice to him, and it touched his heart.

“Of course, sweetheart,” she said with a smile. “I care about you, my sugar bear.” She’d linked her arm through his and he suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy inside.

“There’s something else I’ll do for you tonight,” she said with a wink. “But only if you’re a good boy and have fun with me tonight.”

Now the warm and fuzzy feeling was extending to his nether regions and he even produced a goofy smile. After the kind of day he’d had, with gnome thefts he hadn’t been able to give his proper attention, and a murder case he hadn’t been able to solve, Charlene was really going all out to lift his mood.

“I’d like that,” he growled, and gave her a quick peck on the rouge-covered cheek.

She smiled. “And there’s that lovely smile again.”

They’d arrived at the center and lined up to go in. People greeted them excitedly. It isn’t every day that the mayor and chief of police become a couple, and Alec and Charlene’s story had inspired a certain tenderness in the townsfolk. Tickled their romantic bone.

“Look, Alec,” said Charlene, after she’d shaken several people’s hands and accepted their congratulations for landing such a catch. “It’s Dan.”

“Surprised he’d show his face,” Alec grumbled.

“He is still the chairman of the Gnomeos,” said Charlene. “And you did release him.”

Dan was also dressed as a gnome, only a very weathered one—a gnome that’s seen too many seasons, neglected by its owner. Out there braving the elements for too many years. He certainly didn’t look as happy and carefree as he usually did.

When he saw Alec he gave him a feeble smile, then immediately disappeared in the opposite direction.

“I still think he did it,” said Alec.

“You’re going to have to prove it,” Charlene pointed out. “Innocent until proven guilty, remember?”

“I know, I know,” he said, none too pleased.

The chairman of the Maria Power Society, Jack Warner, stepped up to them with a wide grin on his face, and pumped first Alec’s hand, then pressed a kiss on Charlene’s.

“Honored to have you both here,” he said. “Honored indeed.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said the Mayor pleasantly. “So who’s organizing this? Is it you or Dan Goory?”

“The Seabreeze Center took the initiative, and got both the Maria Power Society and the Gnomeos on board, but I think it’s safe to say we did most of the work. We are, after all, Hampton Cove’s number one Maria Power fan club.”

“Is she here?” asked Charlene, glancing around.

“Who? Maria Power?” Jack laughed a deprecating laugh. “Oh, no. Maria never leaves the house these days. Lives like a regular recluse. Of course we invited her, but she didn’t even deign us with a response.”

“Pity,” said Charlene. “It would have been nice if she’d come.”

“Yeah, it would really have put this retrospective on the map,” Jack agreed.

“Too bad.”

“Say, I thought you arrested Dan for murder?” asked Jack, taking the Chief aside for a moment while the Mayor socialized. “Imagine my surprise when he popped up just now.”

“Had to let him go,” grunted the Chief. “Lack of evidence.”

“You know, I think I might be able to help you with that,” said the man.

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I can’t talk now, obviously. But why don’t you drop by my office tomorrow—you know where I work, right? So let’s talk and do lunch. I think I’ll be able to give your investigation into the dirty deeds of Dan Goory a nice big push in the right direction.” And with a wink, he left Alec staring after him.

A nice big push in the right direction was exactly what the investigation needed. And for the rest of the evening, even as Maria Power did her best to ensnare his attention from up there on the silver screen, acting not in one but no less than two of her most praised movies, all Alec could think about were Jack Warner’s words of promise.

Chapter 17

Ted Trapper stared miserably out of the kitchen window into his backyard, which now contained not three dozen but two dozen gnomes, after Tex Poole’s raid.

“I don’t get it,” he said for the umpteenth time. “How did Tex’s gnomes end up in our yard? It’s a mystery. A regular mystery.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t take them?” asked Marcie. She knew her husband, and how passionate about his hobby he could be. She wouldn’t put it past him to head into their next-door-neighbors’ backyard and abscond with a few gnomes, figuring Tex would never know.

But her husband turned to her with big, mournful eyes. “Not you, too,” he said in a low voice. “You think I stole them, don’t you?”

“Well, they ended up here, didn’t they?”

“I didn’t take them!” he exclaimed. “I would never steal Tex’s gnomes. I’m not a thief.”

“Then how did they end up here?”

“I don’t know!” he said, throwing up his arms.

“Maybe we should talk to Marge.”

He gave her a hopeful look. “You think Marge is behind this? Maybe to spite her husband?”

Marcie gave her husband a curious look. “No, of course I don’t think Marge is behind this. But she can talk to her husband, and maybe we can put this whole thing behind us.”

She hated to have this gnome thing hanging over them like a pall. She and Marge had always enjoyed a good relationship. She helped Marge out at the library from time to time, and Tex and Ted had been friends for years. She’d hate for a dozen ridiculous gnomes to put an end to all of that. She’d already vowed to talk to Marge herself, and maybe find a way to resolve this thing—neighbor to neighbor.

“Maybe it’s those damn kids,” Ted said, resuming his stance in front of the kitchen window and looking out into the backyard.

“What kids?”

He turned. “Didn’t I tell you? I got into some kind of fracas with a couple of punks the other day. They were spray-painting old Mrs. Lather’s house with graffiti and so I told them to stop. Instead they started yelling at me and calling me names. So I told them I’d call the police and when they kicked the car and threw a can of paint at my face I did.”

“And you think they’re adding to your collection of gnomes to get back at you?” She didn’t hide the skepticism in her voice. It seemed like a strange thing to do.

Her husband shrugged. “It’s the only explanation I can come up with.”

“Tomorrow we’re sitting down with Marge and Tex and we’re going to talk this thing through like grown-ups,” she said with a finality that made Ted look up. “This is just too silly,” she said, and walked into the living room. Her favorite show was about to start and she wasn’t going to miss it over a couple of lousy gnomes.

Vesta and Scarlett were both ensconced in Vesta’s car—actually her daughter’s old red Peugeot that she liked to ‘borrow’ whenever it suited her. Vesta had parked the car in front of Kinnard Daym’s house, right around the corner from Harrington Street. Night had fallen, and the street was deserted, but they were both fully awake and vigilant—like true neighborhood watch members should be!

“How much longer?” asked Scarlett, yawning cavernously.

“Shouldn’t be much longer, I think,” said Vesta, who was feeling the strain. It was all well and good to start a neighborhood watch, but these all-night vigils were not really her cup of tea.

“Please tell me again why you picked this place to stake out?”

“Because Kinnard is the town’s most avid gnome collector, and if some gang is targeting gnomes this is the place where they’ll strike next.”

It was clear from Kinnard’s front yard that he was indeed a big gnome lover: no less than fifty gnomes littered the patch of green, the pointy-hatted creatures covering the lawn like a rash. There were even several gnomes dangling from the gutter, Santa style.

“I think they’re creepy,” said Scarlett. “I mean, how anyone can like those creepy things is frankly beyond me.”

“It takes all kinds of people, I guess,” said Vesta, who agreed with her friend’s assessment. She would go one step further and figure people who loved gnomes as garden ornaments probably should see a shrink. But that was just her, of course.

“Do you think this has got something to do with Maria Power?”

“Could be,” Vesta allowed.

“They seem to be into gnomes. All of them.”

Vesta had laughed when she’d watched her son and his girlfriend change into the gnome costumes for the Maria Power retrospective, but not as much as Scarlett had. The latter almost had a fit as she watched the two gnomes try to squeeze into Alec’s squad car. If it was tough to walk around dressed as a gnome it was even tougher to drive.

“I think they’re all nuts,” said Scarlett. “In fact I think you and I are the only two sane people in this whole town.”

“You’re not wrong,” Vesta said. Suddenly, she thought she saw movement across the street. She grabbed her friend’s arm. “Scarlett, look!”

“What?” asked Scarlett, who’d sagged in her seat and had placed her feet on the dash. She crawled into an upright position with some effort and watched eagerly where Vesta was pointing. “Damn, you’re right. It’s them!”

Two figures, dressed in black, staying in the shadows, had snuck into Kinnard’s yard and were busily picking up gnomes and tucking them into large plastic bags.

“Let’s go,” said Vesta, and quietly opened the car door and got out noiselessly. She was wearing her white sneakers and tip-toed across the street, eager to catch the dastardly doofuses in the act.

Behind her, though, a click-clacking sound made her look up. It was Scarlett, on her stilettos, negotiating the tarmac in her own typical manner: dressed to the nines, and making a great deal of noise.

The sound of the stiletto heels had alerted the thieves, too, for they both grabbed the two black plastic bags and before Vesta had crossed the street were already hauling ass.

“Hey! Come back here, you punks!” she yelled, shaking her fist.

“Some other time, grandma!” one of the thieves yelled, and both of them disappeared into the night, laughing all the while.

Scarlett, finally arriving, was panting. “Why didn’t you chase them?” she asked.

“Why couldn’t you be more quiet?” Vesta shot back.

They stared after the thieves, and Scarlett said, “Oh, well. At least you got a good look at them, right?” When Vesta didn’t respond, she repeated, “Right?”

“No, of course I didn’t get a good look at them. They heard us coming a mile away!”

Scarlett looked down at her Louboutins. “Yeah, maybe not the best outfit for a stakeout after all.”

“You think?!”

Inside the house, the lights had come on, and Kinnard Daym now appeared in the door, dressed in his night robe. “What’s going on here?” he asked, looking sleepy. He was a bespectacled little man, with a respectable mustache. He used to run the local liquor store, but had retired since. When his eye fell on his patch of front lawn, he actually yelped in horror and shock. “My gnomes! What happened to my gnomes?!”

“Two thieves took them,” said Scarlett. “But don’t worry, Kinnard. We’re going to do everything in our power to get them back.” And to show the retired shopkeeper that she meant business she handed him a card.

Kinnard read it. “Neighborhood watch. Your safety is our concern.” He looked up and stared for a moment at the two old ladies, one looking like an aged prostitute, the other an Estelle Getty lookalike, complete with fluorescent pink-and-purple tracksuit, large glasses and white curly hair. He closed his eyes. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Chapter 18

The next morning I woke up with the strange sensation that someone was watching me. Opening my eyes, I discovered that someone actually was! Harriet was looking at me in a way I don’t think she’s ever looked at me before.

It was disconcerting, to be honest.

“What?” I muttered. Most cats are immediately awake when they open their eyes, and on most days so am I. But after the disastrous encounter with the mice I hadn’t slept well, and I was feeling that if only I could have slept another couple of hours I’d be right as rain again.

But clearly Harriet had other plans. She was looking uncharacteristically chipper and bright, and was smiling at me in an inane fashion.

We were at the foot of Odelia’s bed as usual, though oftentimes Harriet and Brutus like to sleep at the foot of Gran’s bed instead. More space, if you see what I mean.

“What’s going on, Max?” asked Dooley, who was right next to me and stretched himself out languorously.

“I don’t know. Harriet is staring at me,” I said, and I was frankly starting to get a little worried. It was that smile, you see. The same smile clowns like to use to scare children out of their wits.

“Max,” said Harriet. “I have a great idea.”

“Oh?” I said carefully.

“About the mice.”

I groaned. “Not again.”

“No, but listen to me. Hear me out. Bear with me for a second here. So the mice aren’t scared of Rufus and they’re not scared of you or me or Dooley or Brutus, right?”

“Why did she name me last?” muttered Brutus, who was lying on Harriet’s other side, right on top of where Chase’s feet would have been if the lanky cop hadn’t curled up into a ball to give us cats some space. The trouble our humans go to.

“So if the mice aren’t scared of cats or big dogs, maybe they’re scared of small dogs,” Harriet suggested. “I mean, it’s the same thing with people. Some of them are scared of big dogs and others are scared of the little ones.”

“So?” I said, wondering where she was going with this.

“So why don’t we ask Fifi?”

I thought for a moment. It was still early, and I needed to compute her message. “Oh, right, Fifi,” I said finally, remembering that our next-door-neighbor Kurt Mayfield’s Yorkshire Terrier’s name is Fifi.

“I don’t know, sweet puss,” said Brutus. “Fifi is probably more afraid of mice than the mice are of her.”

He was right, of course. Fifi is one of those timid dogs that are scared of their own shadow. She might run like the wind at the sight of two hundred mice.

“It’s worth a shot,” I said nevertheless. At this point I was willing to try anything to get rid of these mice, even the unorthodox method of enlisting a dog smaller than myself.

“Great,” said Harriet. “That’s settled then. I’ll talk to Fifi and tonight we’ll take another shot at the mice.”

She looked pleased as punch and I smiled in spite of my misgivings. “It’s very nice of you to do this, Harriet,” I said. “Very nice indeed.”

She frowned. “I’m not doing this for you, Max. I’m doing this for me. It’s my food, too, you know, and my house.”

“Of course,” I said. Still, I thought it was very thoughtful of Harriet to step up to the plate like this.

The humans in the bed stirred, and Odelia lifted her head sleepily. “What’s with all the yapping?” she muttered. “Is it time to get up yet?”

“Not yet,” I told her. It was only five o’clock, after all. Too early for man or beast, with the exception of four cats, apparently. “Go back to sleep, Odelia.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, and promptly dozed off again.

Moments later four cats could be seen tiptoeing down the stairs and into the kitchen. For the humans their day had yet to begin, but for us it already had. We’re not the kind of creatures who like to keep regular hours, you see. No eight hours of sleep for us. We like to take our eighteen hours intermittently, spread out throughout the day or night. We’re flexible that way. And since we’d already dozed enough for now, we headed into the kitchen for a nice breakfast. Until we discovered that our bowls were empty once more, the last mouse carrying the last piece of kibble and laughing maniacally as it did.

“I’m going to kill them!” Brutus yelled, slamming the floor with his fist.

“If only we were more like Clarice,” Harriet said wistfully. “Between the four of us we could gobble up two hundred mice in a heartbeat.”

The mere thought of eating fifty mice with hide and hair almost made me retch, though, so clearly this was not the solution.

“Maybe we should ask Clarice again?” I suggested.

“No dice, I’m afraid,” said Brutus. “I saw her yesterday, and she still insists we should deal with our own problems and keep her out of it.”

Clarice is one of those feral cats you see in every town. She usually stays close to the dumpsters behind the stores and restaurants of Main Street and she likes it that way.

For a moment we all thought about the kind of damage Clarice could do to Hector and Helga’s offspring but then dismissed the thought. We’re not animals. But it just goes to show how this war with the mice was taxing us. And taxing Odelia’s budget, of course.

“Let’s head into town,” I suggested. “See if we can’t find out what happened to Heather Gallop.”

“You do that,” said Harriet. “And Brutus and I will stay here and help Gran and Scarlett find out who’s stealing all these gnomes.”

Gran had arrived home very late last night. In fact we’d arrived together—we cats having just returned from cat choir, and she from a stakeout with Scarlett. She’d almost caught two gnome thieves, she’d told us, ‘almost’ being the keyword.

“We’ll ask Kingman if he knows anything about two gnome thieves,” I said.

“And we’ll tell Gran and Scarlett to ask around about that murder business,” said Harriet.

And matters thus arranged, we went our merry ways, to start another wonderful day of sleuthing and, hopefully, finding a bite to eat before the mice managed to abscond with it.

Chapter 19

It felt a little strange for Odelia to go into the office that morning, in light of the previous day’s events. Not just the fact that a murder had been committed at the Gazette offices but that her boss had been accused and arrested for murder, before being released again.

When she arrived, Dan was already in his office. When she entered, after a perfunctory knock on the doorjamb—his door was always open—she found him sitting behind his desk, staring into space. When he saw her, he seemed to wake up from his stupor and gave her a pained smile.

“Hey, honey. No dead bodies today, I’m happy to announce.”

“And a good thing, too,” she said, returning his smile. She took a seat in front of his desk. “How are you holding up?”

He looked pale and gaunt, and much older than his years. Dan wasn’t a young man but he seemed to have aged considerably these past twenty-four hours.

“Hanging in there,” he said. “Can you imagine that Wilbur Vickery gave me the stink eye this morning? And Blanche Captor and Ida Baumgartner even crossed the street when they saw me coming. Like a leper,” he said with more than a hint of bitterness.

“I’m sure it’ll all pass soon,” she said soothingly. “As soon as the real killer is caught they’ll be apologizing to you, I’m sure.”

“I’m not so sure. And what if the killer is never caught? You know what people are like. They’ll think I did it and they’ll give me a wide berth from now on.” He shook his head despondently. “What good is a reporter if no one will talk to him? You’ll have to take over the paper, Odelia. And I’ll have to retire in disgrace.”

“Don’t say things like that, Dan,” she said, her concern spiking. “I’m going to catch that killer if it’s the last thing I do, and your reputation will be just the way it was before: sterling.”

He gave her a half-smile. “I’m not sure it was ever sterling to begin with.”

“Oh, yes it is,” she said emphatically. “Now buck up and stop using the R word.”

He gave her a look of confusion.

“Retirement” she clarified with a smile.

“Oh, right.” He checked his watch. “I’m sorry but I have to go now. I have an important appointment I can’t miss.” And with these words he got up and walked out. He lingered by the door for a moment, and Odelia saw that he was staring at the spot where Heather Gallop’s body had lain. “When this is all over I think I’ll have this office completely remodeled,” he said. “I can’t work here without thinking about…” He swallowed. “Awful business. Absolutely awful,” he muttered, then tapped the doorjamb once and left.

Odelia walked over to her own office and started working on her article on the Maria Power retrospective. And she’d been working for about half an hour, smiling at some of the pictures she’d snapped of her uncle and Charlene Butterwick dressed up as gnomes, when suddenly her door flew open and Chase walked in. He was slightly out of breath.

“There’s been another murder,” he said without preamble. “Jack Warner. And this time Dan was caught red-handed.” He eyed her seriously. “I’m afraid he did it, babe. Your boss is officially a serial killer.”

Dooley and I were lounging on the sidewalk in front of Wilbur Vickery’s General Store, enjoying a few rays of sun on our fur, and some of the kibble Kingman had been so kind to wrangle up for us, when all hell broke loose across the street.

The Hampton Cove Star is our town’s boutique hotel, and home to visiting celebrities and other notables. Now it was also the scene of quite the ruckus, as police cars arrived in droves, and suddenly we could see Odelia and Chase hurry up and enter the hotel.

“Let’s go, Dooley,” I said immediately. “Something’s happened.”

“Oh, do we have to?” he asked, chewing on a piece of chicken kibble. He, too, was suffering from the strain the mice had imposed on our home and hearth.

But when he saw my expression, he immediately swallowed the piece of kibble whole and joined me in padding across the street, careful not to get pancaked by an overzealous driver.

We arrived there just as Odelia and Chase were standing around waiting for the elevator to heed their call, and Odelia smiled. “Just in time,” she said as she crouched down and tickled our necks. Then she grew serious, and whispered, “Keep your eyes peeled, you guys. Dan’s life depends on it.”

She didn’t offer any more information, but what she’d said sounded ominous enough to me.

We rode the elevator up in silence, and got off on the third floor. It soon became clear what had happened when we stepped into one of the rooms. There, lying on the floor, was Jack Warner, and he looked pretty dead to me. And right next to him… another garden gnome.

“It’s the garden gnome gang again!” Dooley cried. “First they steal the gnomes and then they use them to kill people!”

“I’m not sure it’s the same gang, though,” I said as I glanced around. I picked up a strong whiff of the scent I’d grown to associate with Maria Power again, which was hardly surprising as the same dress we’d seen hanging in Jack Warner’s apartment was draped across the bed for some reason.

“I wonder why he decided to bring that dress here,” I said.

“Maybe he likes to dress in women’s clothes,” Dooley suggested. “Some men are like that.”

“But why take a hotel room?” I asked. And what did Odelia mean when she said Dan was in mortal danger?

“Yes, we arrested Dan,” Uncle Alec was saying. “One of the cleaners caught him in the act, hovering over the victim, the gnome still in his hand. Her testimony sealed the deal.”

“Where is she?” asked Chase. “The cleaner?”

“Randal sent her home. She was completely overwrought. He told her we’d interview her later, when she’d recovered from the shock.”

Odelia nodded, glancing around. “So describe to me what happened, Uncle Alec. Exactly.”

Her uncle cleared his throat and assumed a wide-legged stance. “Well, Jack Warner arrived at the hotel at eight thirty. According to the receptionist he was in fine fettle. Told her this was the best day of his life. Though he didn’t say why that was, the receptionist figured he probably had a date lined up. Often people use the hotel for that purpose.”

“So then what happened?”

“Well, the receptionist was on the lookout for this illustrious date, Jack being well known to her, as she’s a member of the Maria Power Society herself. And so when Dan suddenly showed up…” He shrugged. “To say she was surprised is an understatement.”

“Dan told me had an important appointment he didn’t want to miss,” said Odelia. “He didn’t tell me it was Jack Warner, though.”

“No, he wouldn’t tell you, would he? Not if he planned to kill the man.”

“So then this cleaner walks in and Dan is standing over the dead man?” Chase asked.

The Chief nodded. “She opened the door by mistake, figuring the room was empty, and caught Dan in the act, still holding the gnome. He dropped it when he saw her and she started screaming her head off.” His face took on a grave note. “And then he ran off.”

“Dan ran off?” asked Odelia.

“Yeah. He did a runner. Didn’t get far, though. The cleaner immediately called down to the lobby, and by the time Dan arrived, they stopped him and called the cops. Randal and Sarah were first on the scene, and they arrested him on the spot.” There was a note of satisfaction in his voice. “And this time he’s not going to walk any time soon.”

Chapter 20

Odelia, as she sat down for the interview, remembered her promise to Dan: that she was going to catch this killer. Only she hadn’t thought that he’d go out and murder a man immediately afterward.

She found it hard to focus on the words of the hotel’s housekeeping supervisor, as her mind kept returning to the conversation with Dan that morning. He’d seemed so down in the dumps. And then to come here and kill his main rival? Why would he do such a thing? And had she read the man wrong all this time? It was hard to imagine.

They were in the bowels of the hotel, where the housekeeping department was located. Cleaners were passing through the supervisor’s office, inquiring after what had happened, but when they saw she was busy talking to the police, just as quickly disappeared again, like diffident creatures of the night.

The supervisor was a sturdily built woman, with an honest open face and a ready smile. “I thought it strange, you know,” she said now. “Daisy wasn’t supposed to come in today. And so when I heard she’d shown up after all, and had witnessed a murder…” She shook her head. “Terrible. Absolutely terrible.”

“Do you have her address, because my colleague forgot to take it down,” said Chase.

“Oh, of course,” said the woman, swiveling in her chair and turning to her computer. She’d placed her glasses on her nose and was frowning at the screen while she tapped a few keys. “Here it is. Daisy Rayo. Been with us four years now. Very nice girl. Hard worker.”

“And you’re saying she wasn’t even supposed to be here today?”

“No! It was her day off. She must have gotten the dates mixed up. Happens sometimes. Though not to Daisy, who’s very precise about that sort of thing.”

“Did you see her before she went home?”

“No. By the time we were told, she’d already left. But Mimi saw her, and said she looked terrible. Crying her eyes out. In a terrible state, Daisy was. Good thing they sent her home, poor thing. To run into a killer like that—he could have turned on her and killed her, too! Isn’t that what these serial killers do with witnesses? Kill them so they won’t talk?” She shivered. “Who would have thought nice and friendly Dan Goory would turn out to be some kind of monster?”

“Oh, come on, Dan,” said Alec. “You can’t keep giving me the same nonsense. This time you were caught in the act—murder weapon in your hands, for crying out loud!”

“I shouldn’t have done that, I know,” said Dan, who looked even smaller and more wizened than before. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I mean, when I saw Jack lying there, that gnome next to his head, I didn’t think. I just picked it up and…”

“Were caught by the cleaner.”

Dan nodded. “Stupid, I know.”

“Stupid is trying to convince me you didn’t do it.”

“But I swear to God, I didn’t!”

“First tell me what you were doing there. I thought you and Jack were sworn enemies?”

“We were. Which is why I was so surprised when I got his message late last night.”

“What message?”

Dan nodded to his phone, which was lying on the table between them. “Check my messages. It’s right there.”

Alec picked up the phone and frowned at the thing. “Um…” he said. “So how do you…” He fumbled around for a bit, then handed the thing to Dan. “You open it.”

Dan typed in his code and Alec immediately grabbed the phone from the editor’s hands again, earning him a sad look in response.

“So what am I looking for here?” Alec muttered, and then found the message and read aloud, “Dear Dan, I propose a truce. Our clubs have been at daggers drawn for far too long. I think it’s time we joined forces. Just think of all the wonderful things we could do if we put our heads together and stopped this ridiculous war! If you’re interested I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow at nine at the Star—room 328. I sincerely hope you’ll come. Jack.” He glanced up. “So he was proposing a truce, was he?”

“Yeah, took me completely by surprise, I have to confess, as last night at the retrospective he was less than friendly. In fact he was downright mean. Claiming my club was bound to fail with this murder charge hanging over my head, and a dozen of my members had already jumped ship and joined his club.”

“So what happened, you walked in, got into a fight and smashed his head in?”

“No! I walked in and he was already dead.”

“Who opened the door?”

“It was open. I just pushed it open further.”

“And there was nobody else there.”

“No one. And then suddenly this cleaner walks in and starts screaming her head off. I thought she was going to attack me, so I panicked and ran. Which of course I shouldn’t have done.”

Alec thought for a moment. Contrary to the day before, he now found himself wondering if the man seated across from him was telling the truth. He could see Dan smashing the head of some woman in a lovers’ tiff, but not that of Jack Warner. The two of them had been at each other’s throats for years, and if they were going to kill each other, they’d have done it a long time ago.

No, something wasn’t right here. He could feel it in his (admittedly sizable) gut.

“All right,” he said. “You’re going to spend the night in the slammer, and probably you’ll be charged tomorrow and arraigned. But I’m going to talk to this cleaner and hear what she has to say. And I’m going to try and find possible other witnesses. Cause if what you’re saying is true, someone else killed Jack, and Heather Gallop, and you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Twice.”

Dan nodded miserably. “I can’t believe this is happening to me. Again. This is a nightmare, Alec. A regular nightmare.”

Chapter 21

Odelia and Chase arrived at the home of Daisy Rayo and Odelia found herself thinking she lived in a pretty nice house for a cleaner. Then, dismissing the thought as irrelevant, she applied her index finger to the buzzer and pressed. She could hear the sound of the bell jangling inside the house, and patiently waited on the doorstep.

“If this woman really saw Dan bent over Jack with the gnome in his hand things are looking pretty bad for your boss,” said Chase.

“Things are looking bad for him regardless of Daisy Rayo’s witness statement,” said Odelia. “An innocent man doesn’t run—or at least that’s what I’ve always been told.”

“Even an innocent man can panic,” Chase pointed out. “Especially if he’s already been arrested the day before for a crime he didn’t commit.”

Odelia looked up at this. “So you don’t think he did it either?”

Chase hesitated. “Dan doesn’t strike me as a killer, babe. On the other hand, people will surprise you. A man you never considered a killer can sometimes turn out to be capable of the most heinous crime. So frankly I don’t know.”

She didn’t know either. It was hard to imagine that the man she’d been working for was a serial killer. But that’s what the evidence clearly pointed toward, so…

She pressed her finger to the bell again, and wondered if Daisy might have stepped out.

She brought her face closer to the glass and tried to peer inside. It was hard to see anything, as the glass was of the frosted variety. So instead she bent down and looked through the letterbox.

Once her eyes were adjusted to the darkness, her blood ran cold when she saw the lifeless figure lying at the bottom of the stairs.

“My, God, I think she fell, Chase,” she said, and tried the door. Locked, of course.

“Let me try,” said Chase, and put his shoulder against the door. It didn’t budge. “Call an ambulance,” he said. “I’ll see if I can get in through the back.”

Odelia did as he said, and moments later the door swung open and Chase appeared, twigs in his hair and looking slightly out of breath. “Had to climb a tree,” he explained. “Bathroom window was open. I think I might have stepped on a rubber duck, though.”

They both entered and approached the figure lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Her neck was at an awkward angle, and even before Chase pressed his fingers to her throat to find a pulse, Odelia knew the girl was dead.

“Oh, heck,” she said, sitting back on her haunches. “What’s going on, Chase? This is the third death in two days, and all of them connected.”

“She could have fallen down the stairs,” he said, but Odelia shook her head.

“Too much of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? First she provides a witness statement fingering Dan for murder, and then she falls to her death less than an hour later? Something isn’t right.”

Chase glanced around, then looked past Odelia and got up. “Ma’am,” he called out, and Odelia watched him jog across the street.

She just wished she’d brought her cats along. They might have been able to sniff out some clues. And as if they’d been reading her mind, just then Max and Dooley tripped inside through the open door.

“We decided to follow you,” Max explained.

“We like Dan, and we don’t want you to lose your job,” Dooley added.

“What happened here?” Max asked.

“She fell down the stairs,” Odelia said.

“Fell or was pushed?” Max asked immediately, showing he was no fool.

Odelia shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

Chase had returned. “Lady across the street just told me the weirdest thing. Said she saw Daisy enter the house this morning, then walk in again two hours later, only she never saw her leave.”

“Of course not. She fell down the stairs.”

“No, before that. She walked in, and then she walked in again.”

Odelia frowned, then shook her head. “Wait, what?”

“She said she saw Daisy enter the house at eight, after going for her morning run, which the neighbor, whose name is Mrs. Smithers, by the way, says she did every day, rain or shine. And then she saw her enter the house again at nine thirty. Only she says she never saw her leave between eight and nine thirty.”

“What does that mean?”

Chase grinned. “It means Mrs. Smithers is a nosy parker, but an imperfect one. Even nosy parkers have to go the bathroom from time to time, right? They can’t all be seated in front of the window all the time.”

Odelia nodded. In the distance, the sound of an ambulance could be heard. Max and Dooley had returned from their brief perusal of the house. “No pets,” Max announced.

“No mice either,” said Dooley, bringing a smile to Odelia’s face in spite of the circumstances.

“Which means no witnesses,” she murmured.

“Nothing from your cats?” asked Chase, who was used to Odelia’s special relationship with her cats by now.

“Nope, nothing.”

“There is a very strong scent of Maria Power hanging all over the house, though,” said Max. “But that can easily be explained.” He gestured to the stairs. “The woman had a regular shrine to the actress in one of the upstairs rooms.”

Odelia nodded and headed up the stairs. She took a left turn, as Max indicated, and was surprised to find a room completely filled with Maria Power paraphernalia: movie posters, pictures, cups and saucers with her likeness… and a hat once worn by the actress.

“Another Maria Power fan,” she said.

“Yep,” said Max, who’d followed her in. “That name keeps cropping up.”

“I think we better pay a visit to Maria Power herself. Somehow this entire case seems to revolve around her.”

“And gnomes,” said Max. “Don’t forget about the gnomes.”

Chapter 22

All the way to the house of Maria Power, silence hung like a wet blanket over the car. In the backseat, as usual, Dooley and myself. Behind the wheel: Chase, with Odelia riding shotgun. In a second car, following right behind us, was Uncle Alec, who didn’t want to miss this chance to meet the one and only Maria Power for the world.

Odelia and Chase, too, were, judging by the silence, deeply impressed by this unique opportunity to talk to the reclusive actress, who was pretty much an icon in the acting world.

To be absolutely honest it wasn’t meeting the iconic legend of the silver screen I was looking forward to as much as her cats, which I sincerely hoped she owned. But even more than Miss Power’s cats it was their kibble I hoped to lay my paws on. Apart from the nuggets of food Kingman had awarded us, I hadn’t eaten all morning, since the mice had stolen our food, and my belly was making its displeasure known loud and clear.

“I’m hungry,” said Dooley, showing he felt exactly the same way about our upcoming visit.

“Yeah, we really need to fix those mice,” I said. “If this goes on much longer I’ll starve.”

“You can always drop by my place,” said Dooley magnanimously. “Gran makes sure there’s always something to eat, day or night, and we don’t have any mice to deal with.”

“Oh, just you wait and see,” I said. “Pretty soon they’ll expand their hunting ground to Marge and Tex’s place, and then spread out from there. And before you know it they’ll start in on Fifi’s dog chow, and Rufus’s too. Which is all the more reason we have to stick together and deal with them once and for all.”

For a moment, no one spoke, as I contemplated ways and means of ‘fixing’ Hector and Helga’s expanding offspring. After a moment, I felt that Dooley was watching me intently. I turned to him and asked, “What?”

“You don’t look so good,” Max,” he said. “In fact you look even worse than you did yesterday.”

“Why, thanks, Dooley. That’s very nice to hear,” I said, not hiding the hint of sarcasm in my voice. Though I doubt whether Dooley picked up on it.

“I’ll tell you another joke,” he announced, and before I could stop him, he said, “A duck, a shuck and a chuck walk into a bar…”

I held up my paw to stop him in his tracks. “Shucks don’t walk into bars. They have no feet.”

“Just listen,” he said. “You’ll laugh very much, and that’s exactly what you need. So a duck, a shuck and a chuck walk into a bar. ‘Say, listen,’ says the chuck. ‘I sold a truck for a buck to a cluck. What does that make me?’ Both the duck and the shuck shrug. Then the bartender says, ‘You sold a truck to a cluck for a buck? You know what that makes you?’ ‘What?’ ‘A shmuck.’” My friend laughed loudly, presumably to show me how it was done.

I, on the other hand, didn’t laugh at all. Frankly I didn’t get the joke, which is what I told Dooley.

“That’s because you’re not in the right frame of mind,” he said. “Oh, Max. I worry about you. I worry a lot. And worrying is not good. We should be laughing, and having fun. It’s the only way to make sure that we don’t get—”

And I was sure he would have said a great deal more, but the car had arrived at its destination, and Chase leaned out of the window to address the unknown person in charge of opening the gate. It was one of those very tall and eerie gates, with the pointy spikes on top, to keep unwanted visitors out at all cost. It reminded me of that Hitchcock movie Rebecca, and the words ‘Last night I dreamt I went to Manderlay again,’ popped into my head and I shivered slightly.

Chase’s bona fides satisfactorily established, the gate crept open with a creaking sound, and soon Chase’s squad car was moving along a long and winding drive, crunching gravel as it did.

We pulled up to a large mansion that looked just as creepy as the front gate, with turrets on either side of the structure, and tall windows deeply set in gray stone that had blackened with age.

“Creepy,” Dooley said, and that was exactly the word to describe Miss Power’s home.

We got out of the car, and as we did suddenly a figure appeared in the tall entry doors. She was slim and gray-haired and looked sixty-ish. Presumably the housekeeper, I thought, but as we set paw in her direction, it was Uncle Alec, who’d parked right behind us, who corrected my mistake when he exclaimed, a distinct tremor of emotion in his voice, “Miss Power. An honor, ma’am. An absolute honor.”

The former actress nodded once, a tight smile on her lips, and stepped back to welcome us inside.

It only took me two seconds to ascertain that she was one of those rare people who didn’t own a cat, and three seconds to determine that what she did own was a dog, which filled me with joy and apprehension in equal measure. Joy because I don’t mind having a stab at a nice bowl of dog kibble from time to time, and apprehension because I had the distinct impression it was one of those big and scary dogs. The kind that can eat a cat whole and will do so without batting an eye.

“Please step through,” said the actress, who was dressed in simple garb: a long dark skirt and a gray blouse with a nice big brooch. She was also wearing a scarf around her neck, flat black shoes and looked just about as unglamorous as humanly possible.

“She doesn’t look like a famous actress,” Dooley whispered.

“I thought she was the housekeeper,” I confessed.

“I thought she was a lady butler.”

We both grinned a little, and as we followed the humans into what I figured was a drawing or sitting room, suddenly Maria Power directed a critical look at both Dooley and me and said, “Cats! How did they get in!”

“Oh, they’re mine,” Odelia was quick to say. “I hope you don’t mind. They more or less go everywhere I go.” When Miss Power gave her a penetrating look that said she minded a great deal, she quickly added, “If you don’t want them in the house I can leave them outside.”

“I would indeed prefer if they didn’t come in,” said Miss Power. “I’m quite allergic to cats.” And to show us what she meant, she sneezed.

Moments later we were relegated to the great outdoors, the door closed in our faces, and my affection for Maria Power, not great to begin with, dropped to an even lower level.

“I don’t think I like her very much,” Dooley said.

“No, me neither,” I said. As a rule I don’t like anyone who doesn’t like me. It seems fair that way. Though I probably should have made an exception for Miss Power, as she couldn’t help being allergic to cats. Then again, for a woman who owned a dog it was very strange that she would be allergic to us, and not her silly mutt. Although someone had once told me that there are dog breeds that don’t trigger an allergic reaction in humans who are otherwise allergic to anything with four legs and plenty of fur on top.

“Let’s go around the back,” I suggested. “Check out this place.” And of course report back to Odelia when we were through.

And maybe, just maybe, find that elusive bite to eat.

Chapter 23

Odelia was properly impressed as she took a seat in the opulently appointed sitting room, where Maria Power had taken her guests. She could tell from their demeanor that both Chase and Uncle Alec were equally intimidated by being in the presence of greatness, as they were uncharacteristically quiet.

“So… what did you want to talk to me about?” asked the actress, adopting a formal tone, her face displaying no emotion whatsoever.

She looked very well preserved for her age, Odelia thought as she studied the woman. She was seventy now, having retired when she was in her late fifties, after an illustrious career, but she could hardly detect any wrinkles on her smooth brow, and only a few crow’s feet around the eyes and a certain thinness of skin that revealed her age. And the gray hair, of course, which she wore in a short bob.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, Miss Power,” said Chase, taking charge of the interview, as Uncle Alec seemed too tongue-tied to proceed, “but there has been a series of dramatic incidents in town. First a woman was found murdered in Dan Goory’s office—Dan is the editor of the Hampton Cove Gazette, and also, and probably more importantly, the president of the Gnomeos, a fan club dedicated to your work. Then this morning Jack Warner was murdered. Jack was the president of the Maria Power Society. Both Heather Gallop and Jack Warner were bludgeoned to death with a garden gnome, and in both instances the most likely suspect seems to be Dan Goory.”

“So the head of one of my fan clubs killed the head of another club. How strange,” said Miss Power, tilting her head to one side a little and displaying a slight smile.

“Well, we have reason to believe the case is more complicated than that,” Chase continued. “You see, the murder of Jack Warner was witnessed by a hotel cleaner, and soon after she made a statement to that effect she was found dead.”

Miss Power lifted one eyebrow fractionally. “Also murdered by Mr. Goory, I presume?”

“Well, no. She fell down the stairs and broke her neck.”

“An accident. How unfortunate.” She paused. “I still don’t see what all this has to do with me.”

“Well, we have reason to believe that Mr. Goory may be innocent.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“I’ve known Dan a long time,” said Odelia. “You see I work for him, and I find it hard to believe he would suddenly have turned into a serial killer overnight.”

“Most people have hidden depths and I’m sure your Mr. Goory is no different.” The actress turned to Uncle Alec. “Do you also believe that Mr. Goory is innocent of these crimes, Chief Lip?”

Uncle Alec hemmed and hawed for a moment, clearing his throat noisily, then finally confessed, “All the evidence seems to point to him as the culprit, Miss Power.” He darted a quick glance in Odelia’s direction. “But if my niece believes in his innocence…”

“Odelia has always had an unfailing intuition for these things,” Chase explained.

“And I guess we owe it to Dan to conduct a thorough investigation,” Uncle Alec continued. “To make absolutely certain there’s not a shadow of a doubt as far as his guilt is concerned.”

Miss Power shifted in her seat. “You still haven’t told me what brought you here.”

“Well, this entire case seems to revolve around your person, Miss Power,” said Uncle Alec. “First Dan was approached by a woman who claimed to have something very interesting to share, and used the word ‘Gnomeo’ to describe what she had to offer, then Jack Warner arranged a meeting with Dan, presumably to bury the hatchet, as he and Dan have been at each other’s throats since their respective clubs’ inception, and finally, the cleaner who’s the only witness to Dan’s crime turns out to have been an avid fan of yours as well. She had an entire room dedicated to you, with a hat you once wore as the highlight of her collection, so…”

“So you wanted to know what I thought of this whole thing,” Miss Power said, nodding. “Well, as you may or may not know I’ve retired from the movie business many years ago, and have kept myself to myself ever since. I don’t go out, I don’t meet people, so unfortunately I never had the pleasure of meeting either Mr. Goory or Mr. Warner or this young woman who died. If I had I could perhaps have offered you my opinion. What I can say is that for some reason or other my work has always inspired a great deal of excitement—rightly or wrongly, I leave that to others to decide. Men have fought over me, especially when I was younger, women have fought with me, especially the women who were married to these same men.” She smiled. “I find it hard to believe that now, a little over a decade after I retired, people are still capable of getting worked up over my legacy—the modest body of work I left behind.”

“So you think that’s what this is?” asked Odelia. “People getting all worked up and even going so far as to resort to murder?”

Miss Power lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know how else to explain it. One woman presumably had some objects to sell, and the president of the Gnomeos—silly name, if you ask me, by the way—killed her, presumably because he didn’t want to pay what she was asking. And then the president of one fan club killed the president of another fan club, possibly because of some argument over who was my most devoted fan. Frankly it doesn’t surprise me. I’ve seen people act even more viciously over my perceived talents.”

She gazed out through the window for a moment, and Odelia had the impression she was thinking of one particular incident. As she remembered herself, Maria Power’s third husband had once struck a man he thought was her lover, and had rendered him unconscious in the process. There had even been a much-hyped trial at the time, damages demanded and awarded. Maybe the actress was right. Her presence had whipped people, both men and women, into a frenzy over the course of her long and illustrious career, and apparently her memory still possessed this power to this day.

“Do you keep up to date on the events organized to commemorate your career?” Odelia asked. “Like the retrospective at the Seabreeze Music Center?”

“No, I certainly don’t,” said Miss Power, returning to the present, her pale blue eyes losing that dreamlike quality and turning flinty. This was clearly a woman who’d been through a lot, and had had quite enough. So much so that she’d decided to turn her back on the world and lock herself up in her own home. Odelia wondered what kind of life she must have led to inspire such an ignoble finale. Probably no one would ever know.

“I was there last night,” Uncle Alec revealed. “Me and my girlfriend, both dressed up as gnomes.” He smiled at the memory.

Miss Power didn’t. “I really don’t understand this Gnomeo business,” she said. “I certainly never did anything to encourage being associated with that dreadful movie.”

“Oh, but by all accounts it must have been a great movie,” said Uncle Alec. “Rupert Finkelstein’s final film. Not a single copy having survived. It’s probably the most sought-after film in the history of cinema.”

“I can tell you there was nothing special about it,” said Miss Power, now looking thoroughly annoyed. “It was probably for the best that Rupert destroyed it. It was a terrible ordeal to make the movie and the result was in keeping with the experience.”

“It did establish you as a star,” Chase pointed out. He’d clearly been reading up on Miss Power’s career.

“Yes, that’s about the only positive aspect of the matter. Apart from that, I’d much rather forget about the whole thing—only those damned Gnomeos will never let me. I suppose I should be grateful, but I fail to see the point. Now if there’s nothing further…”

She got up, a clear indication the interview was over, as far as she was concerned.

“I’d like to thank you for your time,” said Uncle Alec, also getting up. “It’s been an honor. I’m a big fan,” he added, then took out his phone. “A selfie, maybe?”

But the look of disapproval on Miss Power’s face and the curt shake of the head soon made it clear there would be no selfies taken today—or any other day.

Five minutes later they’d all been ushered out, slightly reeling from the speed with which they’d been shown the door. It was clear that Maria Power was done with her own past, and she didn’t appreciate being dragged back to it.

“I don’t think she’s a fan of her own fan clubs,” said Chase, stating the obvious.

“No, she made that pretty clear,” said Odelia.

“Pity,” said Uncle Alec. “It would have been nice to welcome her as the guest of honor at the retrospective. It would be a big boost for the town. Charlene asked me specifically to pose the question, but I guess I’ll have to disappoint her.”

The prospect of Maria Power showing her famous face at a retrospective of her own work was an exciting one, but also, it now seemed, highly unlikely.

Odelia glanced around, wondering where her cats were. Too bad she hadn’t been able to take them inside. Then again, since the interview had been an absolute bust, there probably wasn’t much they could have learned either.

“Max!” she called out. “Dooley! Where are you guys!”

When after a couple of minutes they still hadn’t answered her call, she was starting to get a little worried. And when Miss Power appeared in the window and made an angry sign for them to leave already, her heart sank. She hated leaving without Max and Dooley. Then again, they couldn’t very well stick around against the actress’s wishes.

So it was with a heavy heart that she got into the car, and Chase drove off.

She hoped her cats would be fine… and find their way home all right.

Chapter 24

It didn’t take us long to discover that Maria Power was a movie star unlike other movie stars. For one thing we found no trace of a pool behind the house, or a Jacuzzi or sauna. The gardens were also pretty straightforward for a member of the Hollywood elite. No private zoo, no exotic animals lurking anywhere, and no tigers or anything of the kind.

“It doesn’t look like the home of a film star,” Dooley remarked. “It looks more like the house of a retired CEO of a multinational corporation.”

“Yeah, looks like Maria likes to keep things pretty simple,” I agreed. I looked around for a way to enter the house from the back, preferably the kitchen, where usually food can be found, all the while making sure I kept an eye out for the dog I’d sniffed before.

I wanted to have a bite to eat, but that didn’t mean I wanted to become dog food.

Suddenly a door was opened and I said, “Dooley! Let’s go!”

It was one of the servants who’d popped out for a smoke, and left the door open. So we quickly scooted inside and found, to our extreme elation, that we were in the kitchen.

There was nothing sober or simple about the kitchen, though. On the contrary, it was big and loaded with gleaming appliances, two kitchen islands, modern equipment, wall-to-wall cupboards and enough pots and pans dangling from hooks to feed a small army. All in all, it wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Nancy Meyers movie, and just as I was wondering when Meryl Streep or Diane Keaton were going to come walking in, a woman entered who looked so much like a cook she could have starred in a movie as one.

She started chopping veggies on one of the kitchen islands, and before she noticed our presence, we decided to skedaddle. Next to the kitchen was a second, smaller space, where usually, in most households of this caliber, the pets are fed. Not here, though, as we found ourselves in a pantry, full of shelves laden with foodstuffs. No dog or cat food was in evidence, though, much to our disappointment.

And we probably would have walked out again, if I hadn’t detected a strange odor that I nevertheless immediately recognized.

“Mice,” I said, a grim expression creeping up my face.

“See, Max?” said Dooley. “Even the rich and famous have mice.”

If his statement was designed to soothe and comfort, its effect was lost on me. Instead it served to increase my antipathy toward the critters.

And as if reading my mind suddenly a tiny nose came peeping from underneath the shelves, soon followed by a tiny body. But when the mouse spoke, it didn’t do so in an equally tiny voice. Instead, it boomed, “Why, if it ain’t cats! What are you fellas doing here?!”

“We’re visitors,” I said in measured tones, as I didn’t want to pick a fight with this mouse simply because of its species.

“Looking for food, I presume,” said the mouse, still in that same hale and hearty manner, which for some reason got my back up even more.

“Well, we wouldn’t mind having a bite to eat, Mr. Mouse,” said Dooley. “We haven’t eaten since this morning, and we’re both very hungry, I don’t mind telling you.”

The mouse chuckled—actually chuckled!

“Look, mice have stolen our food, and as a consequence we didn’t enjoy a full breakfast,” I said, a little frostily. “So your cheerfulness is highly out of place.”

“Mice have stolen your food, huh? Is that a fact now?”

“Yes, that is a fact, so you’ll forgive me for not being a big fan of your kind, sir.”

“First off, I’m not a sir, I’m a lady. Secondly, you can’t go around blaming the behavior of a few rogue elements on the entire species, now can you?”

“Yes, you’re right, of course,” I said, slightly taken aback. I’d never heard a female mouse speak with such forcefulness before, and it struck me that as far as mice went, I was still pretty much a novice.

“Look, if you want to eat, I can offer you a variety of dishes,” said the mouse, much to my surprise. She pointed to various foodstuffs on the shelves. “We also have a nice assortment of cheeses in the fridge. You have your Cheddar, your Gouda, your Parmesan. Or if you prefer the softer cheeses, I’ve got you covered too. Humboldt Fog, Bergenost, Red Hawk, Monterey Jack… Oh, and cream cheese, of course. Always a favorite.”

When I told the mouse I wasn’t into cheese all that much, and neither was Dooley, she registered surprise. “Then you haven’t tasted these cheeses yet. They are to die for.”

And she tripped out of the pantry and into the kitchen, neatly avoiding being stepped on by the cook, and resolutely making her way to yet another room. After a moment, her head popped out again, and she shouted, “Well, what are you waiting for, cats?!”

So we followed her, and found ourselves in a room with no less than three fridges and two freezers.

“Now this is where you guys come in,” said the mouse. “I could open these myself, but it’s hard going, what with that suction thingy, which is really annoying, if you ask me. Whoever designed these fridges clearly didn’t think of us poor mice. So pop this one open and let’s have a look-see, shall we?”

I did as she said, and before long I was sampling some of the best cheese I’d eaten my entire life.

“I have to admit you were absolutely right,” I said. “This is some pretty good stuff.”

“Right?” she said proudly, then stuck out a paw. “My name is Elsa, by the way, and I’m pleased to meet you, cat.”

“Max,” I said. “And this is Dooley.”

Just then, Elsa hissed, “Hide!” And promptly scooted behind a stack of boxes, quickly followed by Dooley and me. I could see the cook opening the fridge and then closing it again.

“Phew. That was close,” said Elsa, as she wiped the perspiration from her brow. “She’s never caught me once, and it would be too bad if she caught me now, since I have the pleasure of two guests.”

“Why are you being so nice to us?” asked Dooley. “You don’t even know us.”

Elsa gave another one of her hearty laughs. “You just say whatever comes into your head, don’t you? Why wouldn’t I be nice? There’s plenty of food for the three of us, and I enjoy the company for a change. It’s not much fun being the only mouse in the house.”

“You’re the only mouse here?” I asked.

“Yep. Never found the right one, I suppose, to start a little family and settle down.”

“There’s two hundred mice living in our basement,” said Dooley. “And they eat all of our food, and all of our human’s food, too.”

“Two hundred. Now that’s what I call a nice big family. Your humans must be really hospitable people.”

“Well, they are,” I said. “But even they think it’s a little much.”

“Yeah, I suppose two hundred can be taxing for your regular homeowner,” said Elsa, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

“We’ve been trying to negotiate with them,” I explained. “Ask them to move out. Or if they decide to stay, at least not to eat all of the food. But they refuse. They figure they have just as much right to stay as we do. So they’re not budging. And now my human is upset with me, figuring since I’m a cat I should be able to keep the house mouse-free, if you see what I mean.”

“Yeah, I think I do,” said Elsa. “Though of course I used to live with a dog, and I never had any problems. We respected one another and had a great time.”

“What happened to the dog?” asked Dooley.

“Oh, he died. Last month. Great tragedy it was, too. Maria was crazy about Boomer.”

“What kind of dog was he?” I asked.

“Maltese. Very clever, and a real gentledog, too. Always let me share his food, and let me tell you, if you like this food you should have seen what Maria gave Boomer to eat. Only the very best of the very best. Gourmet stuff.” She shook her head sadly. “Yeah, it hasn’t been much fun with Boomer gone.”

“You should come and live with us,” said Dooley. “I mean,” he added, with a glance in my direction, “what’s one more mouse?”

“Dooley!” I hissed. “We’re trying to get rid of the mice, not add more to the pack!”

“But Elsa is not like the other mice,” he said. “She’s one of the nice mice.”

“You know what?” said Elsa. “I could join you guys and have a word with this Hector and Helga, if you like. I’m sure I could come to some sort of arrangement if you let me. Mice, after all, don’t listen to cats, but they might listen to a fellow mouse.”

I had to admit there was something to be said for this. And if things didn’t work out, she could always come back to live at Maria’s place.

“All right,” I said finally. “You can come. But only if you promise to behave.”

She laughed again. “Behave! Max, I’m the best-behaved mouse you know!”

And with this, we shook paws on it.

Chapter 25

“Are you sure?” asked Fifi. The little Yorkie didn’t look entirely convinced.

“Yes, of course I’m sure,” said Harriet.

“But what am I going to tell them?”

Brutus and Harriet and Fifi were in conference in Odelia’s backyard, Fifi having absconded from her own backyard through one of the holes she liked to dig. Her human, Kurt Mayfield, a retired music teacher, always patched up the holes, only for Fifi simply to dig another one. She didn’t like to be confined to her own backyard, and liked to socialize with the cats next door, much to Kurt’s dismay, as he was a lot less fond of those same cats, especially when they broke into song, which he often responded to by throwing his shoes in their direction as a way of showing his lack of appreciation.

Brutus thought they should probably leave Fifi in peace. He didn’t see how a small dog would succeed where a big dog had failed. Then again, once Harriet had an idea in her head, it was very hard to get it out again, at least until she’d brought it to fruition, often with disastrous consequences.

“You simply tell them they have to leave,” said Harriet. “I’m sure they’ll listen to you.”

“When?” asked Fifi. “When do you want to do this?” She still wasn’t fully on board, Brutus could tell.

“No time like the present,” said Harriet cheerfully.

“What, you want to do this now?!” asked Fifi, looking horrified by the prospect of having to use her powers of persuasion to dislodge two hundred mice from the house.

“Yes, why not? Better get it over with,” said Harriet. “Like a band-aid,” she added.

“A band-aid?” asked the little doggie dubiously.

“Yeah, you have to pull it off quickly. That way it’s not so bad.”

Fifi, who probably never in her life had had a band-aid applied to her corpus, gave Harriet a look that spoke volumes about what she thought of her plan. Still, she followed them into the house when invited, and in the direction of the basement when suggested. She paused on the top step, though, now clearly suffering from a bout of stage fright.

“They’re not… violent, are they?” she asked.

“Oh, no,” said Harriet. “They’re quite peaceful. Very friendly. You’ll see.”

How a dog who was afraid of mice was going to scare them into leaving Odelia’s home was obviously not a thought that occurred to Harriet, and it wasn’t a question Brutus was prepared to raise. Still, as he watched Fifi walk down the stairs, one careful step at a time, the thought ‘dead dog walking’ suddenly came to mind.

“Stop!” suddenly another voice yelled, this one not in Brutus’s head but coming from behind him.

He turned, and so did Harriet and Fifi.

Much to Brutus’s surprise, it was none other than Shanille who’d graced them with her presence.

Shanille, leader of cat choir and Father Reilly’s cat, seldom paid house calls.

It also surprised Harriet, and not in a good way. “What are you doing here?” she growled.

Harriet and Shanille rarely saw eye to eye. Shanille often found fault with Harriet’s nightly solo performances she insisted on giving, and Harriet, who hated criticism of her God-given talents, didn’t like the comments her choir leader habitually directed at her.

“Kingman told me about your predicament,” said Shanille, a little stiffly. “He told me you’ve been suffering from a mice infestation and suggested I pay you a visit. See what I can do.”

“What you can do! Excuse me, Shanille, but we don’t need your help. We have everything under control.”

Shanille directed a critical look at the mess the mice had made of the kitchen, with pieces of cheese having dropped by the industrious mice, forming a trail all the way from the kitchen to the basement door. “Yeah, I can see you do,” she said, then pressed her lips together primly.

“We have our secret weapon right here,” said Harriet, gesturing to Fifi, who’d retraced her steps and was now among them once more, and looking suspiciously relieved at this stay of execution.

“A dog?” asked Shanille. “You’re going to send a dog to do a cat’s job? Oh, dear. This is so much worse than I thought. No wonder Kingman asked for my help.”

“Kingman should mind his own business,” Harriet snapped. “And frankly so should you, Shanille. Fifi, go ahead.”

But the little Yorkie gave them such a look of anguish Brutus decided to intervene. “Why don’t we give Shanille a chance to see what she can do?” he suggested. “She is, after all, Father Reilly’s cat.”

“And what does that have to do with anything?” asked Harriet.

“I have religion on my side,” Shanille said, giving Harriet a supercilious look. “And that’s a lot more than I can say about you.”

And with these words, she passed by a furious-looking Harriet and stepped into the basement.

Brutus followed from a distance, and Harriet brought up the rear, with Fifi deciding to occupy the top step, giving her a fighting chance to make a run for it in case things turned ugly.

“What are they called again?” asked Shanille once they were down in the basement.

“Helga and Hector,” Brutus supplied helpfully.

“Hector? Helga? A word, please?” said Shanille briskly.

Immediately the mouse couple appeared, as did about a hundred of their offspring, taking Shanille by surprise.

“Oh, my,” she said as she saw the sea of mice surrounding them.

“Who are you?” asked Hector, nibbling from a piece of cheese Brutus was pretty sure had been in the fridge only an hour ago.

“My name is Shanille, and I wanted to have a little chat with you. From one of God’s creatures to another, and with the blessing of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, who loves us all unconditionally and in equal measure.”

Hector frowned and turned to Brutus. “What is she talking about?”

“Shanille is Father Reilly’s cat,” Brutus explained. “And she has an important message for you.”

“Well, speak up,” said Helga. “I don’t have all day.”

“I have a proposition for you all,” said Shanille, taking a seat and carefully draping her tail around her buttocks. She didn’t look completely at ease, Brutus thought, and he could see why. More mice had appeared and Hector and Helga’s family was now all present and accounted for, filling the basement. In fact he couldn’t see the floor through the ocean of gray.

“What proposition?” asked Helga suspiciously.

“A way for all of you to live together in perfect harmony,” said Shanille pleasantly. “As you know, this home belongs to Odelia, and she has been so kind as to invite a number of cats to live with her. What she didn’t do is invite you lovely mice to share her home. But being the wonderful, God-fearing woman that she is, she was so gracious to let you stay here regardless. But through no fault of your own, this arrangement isn’t, um, convenient for her anymore. She appreciates you, and wants you to know she loves all creatures, great and small, just like the good Lord does, but she now suggests you and your family relocate to another, more suitable location, and leave her and my fellow felines the house.”

There was a moment of silence, then raucous laughter filled the air, as it rose up from two hundred throats.

“You must be crazy!” cried Hector loudly, slapping his tiny thighs with mirth.

“Yeah, you’re one big crazy cat if you think we’re going to accept such an arrangement,” chimed in his wife.

“I have a better idea,” said Hector, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Why don’t you move to a more suitable location and we’ll take the entire house. How about that, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s our proposition,” said Helga.

“Take it or leave it!”

“Why you little brutes,” Shanille growled, suddenly a lot less kindly than before. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. You barge in here and think you can simply take over the house? Shame on you!”

“Oh, get lost,” said Hector, making a throwaway gesture with his paw.

“Yeah, take a hike, sister,” said Helga, and in a matter of seconds the basement was empty again, the mice flowing into those little holes with unparalleled speed and coordination.

Shanille was gently fuming, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Of all the impertinent, annoying, disgraceful…” she began.

“See what we’re up against?” asked Brutus.

Harriet gently placed an arm around Shanille’s shoulder. “You know what you should do, Shanille?” she asked.

“What?” grunted the choir director.

“Say a little prayer,” said Harriet sweetly. “I’m sure it’ll make all the difference.”

“Oh, go to hell,” growled Shanille, and was off.

Chapter 26

Three people were sitting in Chief Alec’s office and none of them looked particularly happy. There was Alec himself, of course, his deputy Chase Kingsley, and also Alec’s niece Odelia, who was pretty much part of the team.

“Let’s review the facts as we know them,” said Alec as he dragged a weary hand through what few hairs remained on his scalp.

Odelia’s uncle had called the meeting because of his dissatisfaction with the investigation, as he called it. He had a very good suspect in jail, who looked perfect for the two murders, but there were several small things that made him uneasy in his mind.

“First off, the murder of Heather Gallop. No phone was found, either on her person, or in her hotel room, and yet she’d called Dan and set up an appointment.”

“Unless Dan stole her phone,” Odelia offered.

“We would have found it,” said Alec. “We searched both his office and his house from top to bottom and found nothing out of the ordinary, except a ridiculous number of gnomes, too many for a grown man to feel comfortable collecting, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“My dad collects gnomes,” Odelia pointed out. “And he’s not afraid to admit it.”

“The UPS guy, who wasn’t a UPS guy,” Alec continued. “Highly suspicious if you ask me, as was the phone call to lure Dan out of his office.”

“Presumably to give the killer, dressed as a UPS guy, enough time to sneak into his office and murder Heather,” said Chase.

“Two. Jack Warner’s murder. Jack told me only last night that he had important information to share, and wanted me to meet him today. Only he never made it, because he was killed. What information? And was he killed because of it? Also, we haven’t found Jack’s phone yet, which his wife says he always carried on his person.”

“And Dan didn’t have this phone either,” said Odelia.

“Unless he dumped it,” Chase said. “On his way out of the hotel.”

Police had searched high and low for that phone, though, and hadn’t found it. So either Dan was the most cunning killer they’d ever met, or he wasn’t Jack’s killer at all, and had been framed. Again. Odelia was inclined to believe the latter, while her uncle and Chase were inclined to believe Dan wasn’t as innocent as he made out to be.

Uncle Alec leaned forward. “Look, “ he said, addressing his niece, “the only evidence about this UPS guy is a cat. A cat who could be mistaken.”

“I don’t think Buster is mistaken,” said Odelia.

Uncle Alec heaved a sigh. “I don’t believe I’m asking this, but what do you know about this Buster? In your opinion, is he a reliable witness?”

“He’s one of Max’s main sources of information. Buster belongs to Fido Siniawski, and as a barber Fido manages to extract more confessions, confidences and gossip from people than any other person in town. And Buster is right there to listen to all of it. So you might say he’s one of the best-informed cats in Hampton Cove. So yes, if Buster says he saw a UPS man enter the office, you can bet that he did.”

Uncle Alec sat back in his chair, which creaked as he shifted his weight. In spite of the diet his new girlfriend had put him on, he still had a long way to go. “You’re putting me in a very tough spot here, honey,” he said finally. “I have everything I need to finger your boss as the killer, except for these loose ends.”

“We could try to find this UPS guy,” Chase suggested. “I mean, is it possible that Buster saw a man who looked like a UPS guy but wasn’t?”

“He says he was wearing the brown uniform with the letters UPS,” said Odelia.

Uncle Alec rubbed his face. He looked haggard. When an investigation wasn’t going well, he often looked as if he’d slept in his clothes and hadn’t had taken a shower in days.

“Look, I’m going to charge Dan.” When Odelia started to protest, he held up his hand. “I’m sorry, but I have no choice. I have a witness who saw him standing over the guy with the murder weapon.”

“A witness who died,” Odelia pointed out. “In suspicious circumstances, I might add.”

“I disagree. The woman fell down the stairs. No indication she was pushed. None whatsoever.”

“I don’t think he did it,” said Odelia stubbornly. “Dan simply isn’t that kind of person.”

“You heard what Maria Power said. People tend to act weird when she’s involved. Men go nuts, and so do women. And I think Heather Gallop had something very valuable to offer Dan, and when they couldn’t agree on the price, he killed her and simply took it.”

“Oh, so now you don’t think she was his girlfriend and he killed her because she wanted to break up with him or because she was pregnant?”

“No, I don’t think she was his girlfriend.”

“Did you manage to get in touch with her folks?” asked Chase.

“Yeah, I did. And get this. She used to work for Rupert Finkelstein’s daughter.”

Both Odelia and Chase sat up a little straighter at this. “The director?” Chase said.

“One and the same. Finkelstein’s daughter died a couple of months ago, and it’s not inconceivable that Heather managed to lay her hands on something very valuable indeed.” he wiggled his bushy brows. “A copy of his famous version of Romeo and Juliet.”

“And that she came to Hampton Cove to interest Dan in that same copy,” said Chase, nodding.

“Which sounds to me like a motive for murder, wouldn’t you agree? Big collector and fan like Dan? I’m sure a guy like that just might stoop to murder for the chance to lay his hands on the most sought-after movie of all time. A copy of the one and only Gnomeo.”

Chapter 27

It was a long way back to town, especially since we were used to going by car, and now had to rely on our own four paws to carry us home. Add to that the fact that a mouse’s paws are even smaller than a cat’s, and it was slow going at first. Then Dooley had the great idea to suggest that Elsa jump on his back and hitch a ride, and so she did.

I wasn’t entirely at ease after that. It’s bad enough for a cat to have to travel in the company of a mouse, but even worse to carry one on one’s back.

If the cat community of Hampton Cove got word of this our names would be mud. Of course they were mud already, after our unsuccessful fight with Hector and Helga.

Very humiliating for a cat to have to declare defeat against a couple of mice.

“So how was it to live with the most famous actress in the world?” I asked.

“Oh, I didn’t have all that much to do with Maria,” said Elsa. “She kept herself to herself, and so did I. But Boomer sometimes told me stories about her.”

“What kind of stories?”

“He found her a little sad,” said Elsa. “Apparently she had a few husbands who didn’t live up to her expectations and left her broken-hearted. So now she prefers to live alone. Well, with a dozen staff to cater to her every need, of course. So she’s not really alone.”

“She was married a lot of times, was she?”

“Oh, sure. Eight husbands, at last count, and all of them up to no good. Swindlers, fraudsters, cheaters, bullies, drunks and druggies, according to Boomer. She never had much luck in that department.”

“Poor woman,” said Dooley.

“No, poor she most definitely is not. She has a nice fortune safely tucked away.”

“We haven’t told you this, but we’re investigating a murder,” I said. “Or in fact two murders, and maybe even three.”

“Murders?” said Elsa, her eyes widening in surprise. “Is that why you were at the house?”

“Yeah, our human is a reporter, and amateur sleuth, and her boyfriend is a detective, so they were there to interview Maria. Though I can’t imagine what they hoped to find. She has a certain involvement with the case, I suppose, but not directly.”

“A woman was murdered by Odelia’s boss,” Dooley explained. “And then yesterday he murdered a man, and then he probably murdered another woman.”

“That’s a lot of murder,” said Elsa, deeply impressed.

“I don’t think Dan murdered the cleaner,” I said. “He was already in police custody by the time she fell down the stairs.”

“He could have popped over and killed her before he was arrested,” said Dooley.

“No, he was apprehended at the hotel, remember? But anyway, Daisy Rayo presumably wasn’t the victim of a crime but of her own clumsy feet. She fell down the stairs and broke her neck,” I explained for Elsa’s sake.

“Oh, right,” said the tiny mouse with the predilection for fine cheeses. I’d have to let Odelia know she needed to stock up on Gouda, Cheddar and Brie. And cream cheese, of course. To make Elsa feel at home. “So your human’s boss is a murderer?” she asked.

“Yeah, looks like,” I said. “Though Odelia isn’t convinced. She thinks Dan may have been set up.”

And he could very well have been. By this mysterious UPS man who wasn’t a UPS man. Though back at the hotel it seemed clear that Dan was the culprit. At any rate, I thought it was time that Odelia brought us up to speed on the investigation. There were gaps in my knowledge of what exactly had happened and what discoveries she’d made.

I blamed this entirely on my preoccupation with Hector and Helga. I simply didn’t have my head in the sleuthing game at this point, and I sincerely hoped Elsa could help us out so I could dedicate my time to helping my human catch killers again.

A cat suddenly stole out of the undergrowth by the side of the road and stared at us.

“Is that… a mouse?” the cat asked, incredulous.

I immediately recognized this passerby as Clarice.

“Um… yes,” I said hesitantly.

The raggedy cat barked an incredulous laugh. “Are you seriously carrying a mouse on your back, Dooley?”

“Her name is Elsa,” said Dooley pleasantly. “And she’s going to help us chase away the mice in our house.”

Clarice frowned and thought about this for a moment. “I think I see what you’re doing. Very clever, Dooley. Use one evil to destroy another evil. Devious. Very devious.”

“For your information, I’m not evil,” said Elsa.

“No, Elsa is very nice,” said Dooley. “She gave us some very tasty cheese to eat.”

Clarice rolled her eyes. “So she bought you. I should have known it was the mouse who’s the clever one, and not you two. Well, carry on, I suppose. It’s your funeral.”

And with these words, she slunk back into the undergrowth and disappeared.

“We should have asked her to help us with Hector and Helga,” said Dooley.

“She would have said no,” I said. “Brutus already asked her and she refused.”

“Maybe she changed her mind.”

“Doubtful.”

“Was that a friend of yours?” asked Elsa.

“Yeah, Clarice. She’s a feral cat,” I said.

“She’s very nice, and very sweet if you get to know her,” said Dooley.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I want to,” said Elsa with a shiver. “She gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Yeah, Clarice has that effect on mice,” I said. “And cats. And people. Well, pretty much on everyone, I guess.”

“She eats rats whole,” said Dooley admiringly. “She simply gobbles them up and swallows them down. You have to see it to believe it.”

“Oh, I believe it,” said Elsa, who clearly wasn’t a fan of Clarice.

And so we continued our long trek into town. I sincerely hoped that next time Odelia would stick around long enough to take us back by car. Not much fun to have a human with a car if she’s going to desert you in the middle of nowhere, I mean to say.

Chapter 28

Odelia had just stepped out of the police station when a woman approached her. She looked in her late fifties, with a pronounced nose and chin, large glasses and a slight overbite.

“Odelia Poole?” asked the woman.

“Yes,” said Odelia, stopping in her tracks.

“Um… could I please have a word with you, Miss Poole? It concerns the Gnomeos.”

“Of course,” said Odelia immediately, and gestured to the town square, where a couple of benches had been placed for people to repose and enjoy the, frankly quite hideous, statue of one of Hampton Cove’s former mayors.

They took a seat in the shade and the woman looked around nervously for a moment. She was dressed in a gray woolen suit that looked absolutely uncomfortable and entirely too hot for the kind of weather they’d been having. Even now the sun was out in full force, and even in her flowery summer cotton dress Odelia was feeling hot.

“My name is Jacqueline Goossens,” said the woman, pushing her glasses up her nose. “And I’m a member of the Gnomeos. Have been since its inception. I’m also a member of the Maria Power Society.”

“Oh, so you’re in both clubs?”

“Yes, which is perhaps a little strange, as the heads of the clubs have been mortal enemies for years. The thing is… I read about the murder of Jack Warner, and that Dan Goory was arrested?”

Odelia nodded encouragingly. “And you have information that can help Dan?”

“Oh, no,” said the woman. “I have information that is probably damning for him.” She looked a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I know he’s your boss and all, and you probably don’t want to hear this, but…” She swallowed uncomfortably, then went on, “The thing is, I would really prefer not to go to the police. I don’t care for the attention, and this case is going to attract a lot of attention.”

“You want me to promise not to talk to the police?”

“Yes, very much so. It’s just that… I don’t know what to do with this information. I feel I should probably share it with someone, but since I’d prefer not to go to the police…” She gave Odelia a helpless look.

“That’s all right. If you tell me, I’ll make sure to tell them. And I’ll keep your name out of it if you like.”

Jacqueline looked distinctly relieved. “Oh, thank you, Miss Poole. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Now what did you want to tell me?”

“Well, a couple of days ago we had a meeting of the Gnomeos. One of our monthly meetings. We mainly discussed the upcoming retrospective, of course, and the contents of our next club magazine, but then Dan said something that caught my attention. He told me that very soon he’d be in a situation where he’d be able to best the Maria Power Society once and for all. He said he was about to come into the possession of an item that would blow Jack Warner and his Society out of the water, and make people leave his club in droves and join the Gnomeos.

“When I asked him what this object was, he merely gave me a meaningful look and whispered that it had something to do with the name of our club.”

“The Gnomeos.”

Jacqueline nodded. “And then the day before yesterday I saw him on the street as I was walking past his office and he told me the meeting had been arranged for the next morning, and it wouldn’t be long now before he had the object in his possession. He seemed very excited about the prospect. ‘Come what may,’ he told me, ‘I’m making history tomorrow.’”

“He said that?”

“Yes, those exact words. And then of course when I heard about the death of that young woman, I couldn’t help but remember his words, and wonder if something had happened that had made him lose his temper with her.”

“You think he killed her.”

Jacqueline shrugged. “I don’t know Dan as a violent man, but he’s always been extremely passionate about Maria Power and anything to do with the Gnomeos.”

“That’s what my uncle thinks,” Odelia confided. “Heather Gallop used to work for Rupert Finkelstein’s daughter, who died a couple of months ago. He thinks it’s conceivable that Heather got hold of a copy of the Gnomeo movie and offered to sell it to Dan. But they argued over the price, and so Dan murdered her and stole the movie.”

Jacqueline’s eyes had gone wide. “You really think this Heather Gallop had a copy of Gnomeo in her possession?”

“I have no idea. It’s just a theory at this point, and Dan denies everything. He says he never even met the woman.”

“But he does admit that she promised to sell him the movie?”

“No. He claims that when Heather made the appointment she didn’t mention a movie. She only mentioned the word Gnomeo. But it was enough to pique Dan’s interest.”

“It must have been the movie,” said Jacqueline. “It simply must have been.”

“Yes, it certainly looks that way.”

Odelia stared at the statue for a moment, wondering how a movie made several decades ago could possibly cause so much trouble now.

“Look, please don’t tell Dan I told you,” said Jacqueline. “I like him very much. He’s a decent man, and I admire his passion for the Gnomeos.”

“I won’t tell him,” Odelia promised.

“We’re actually thinking about organizing a meeting of both fan clubs,” said Jacqueline. “We think it’s time to bury the hatchet. Now that Jack is gone, and Dan is in prison, the members feel we should all come together, and end this silly feud.”

“Yes, it seems silly to have two clubs dedicated to the same thing,” Odelia agreed.

“Thanks for listening,” said Jacqueline with a smile. She placed her hand on Odelia’s arm. “I really needed that.”

“No problem,” said Odelia, though she wasn’t happy that Jacqueline had given her one more reason to doubt Dan’s innocence. But the facts were what they were. Even her loyalty to her boss wasn’t going to change that.

They both got up, and Jacqueline said, “Do you want to come? To the joint meeting, I mean? Club meetings are always a lot of fun, and this one is going to be one for the books. The very first meeting of the two clubs, united after all these years.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Odelia. “I would like that.”

Jacqueline smiled. “Thanks so much, Odelia.”

Odelia watched her walk away. At least something good was going to come out of all of this. From now on Hampton Cove would have one Maria Power fan club instead of two. And no more fighting.

And as she set foot for the office, she wondered if it was possible that Dan was innocent of the first murder—that UPS guy looked like a strong suspect indeed—and guilty of Jack Warner’s murder?

At any rate, her boss was in big trouble. And so was the newspaper he’d founded.

Chapter 29

We finally arrived home, and as Dooley took Elsa into the house, to get acquainted with things, I lingered outside for a moment. It was the sound of solid objects hitting other solid objects that had attracted my attention, and so I decided to go in search of the source of the sound, as it seemed to be coming from Marge and Tex’s garden.

Cats may not have a reputation as guardians of their humans’ property, but I beg to differ. I like to keep an eye on things as much as I can, and so it was with a sneaking suspicion that nefarious activities were underway that I stealthily snuck into the next garden and glanced around, keeping low and as much out of sight as a big-boned blorange cat can.

I saw nothing out of the ordinary, though, but then I heard it again: a loud clacking sound, as if someone was hitting a brick against a second brick.

So I snuck in the direction of Ted and Marcie’s backyard, and took a peek through the hole in the fence that has served us so well in the past. And that’s when I saw it: someone was chucking garden gnomes over the back fence into the Trappers’ garden, all of them falling on top of a growing pile of gnomes!

“What the…” I muttered as I sat stunned, looking at this strange phenomenon.

I couldn’t see who the culprit was, as he or she was hidden on the other side of the green plastic screen Ted has erected to lend himself and his family a measure of privacy. On the other side is the same field that stretches along all of our backyards, and which is easily accessed by anyone who knows how to climb a fence, which the owner of the field once erected to keep his sheep, who he likes to put to graze there, from running off.

Tack! One more gnome hit the pile, and in the process lost part of his pointy hat.

I don’t like gnomes as a rule, but I felt distinctly sorry for the droll little tykes now. This was no way to treat these oddly shaped and extravagantly colored creatures.

Suddenly, from the house, a cry rang out. “Oi!” It was Ted, who must have observed the same phenomenon and now came hurrying out of the house.

Immediately there was a rustle on the other side of the fence, and a loud giggle, and the supply of gnomes tumbling to earth instantly dried up.

“What do you think you’re doing!” Ted yelled, shaking his fist.

But before he had reached the back of the garden and could peek over the fence, Tex’s loud voice behind me yelled, “Gotcha!”

“Tex!” Ted said, taken aback. “Look what they did. They’re throwing gnomes now!”

“Horse manure, Ted. Admit it, man. You’ve been out stealing again.”

“What?!”

“You are an inveterate thief, Ted! I recognize that big fat one over there. I’ll eat my shirt if it doesn’t belong to Kinnard Daym. Pride of his collection.”

“But I—”

“You stole it—finally admit it, you thief!”

“I didn’t steal a thing, Tex. You have to believe me!”

“Oh, so now you’re saying it’s raining gnomes, is it? They’re simply falling from the sky like so much manna from heaven?”

“Over the fence,” said Ted, looking and sounding highly discombobulated. “They came flying… over the fence.”

“A likely story. I’m reporting you to the police, Ted. That’s right. I wanted to cut you some slack. Hoping you’d break the habit. But obviously that’s not happening. So this time you’re going down, my friend.” He put his phone to his ear. “Hello, Dolores, Yes, I’d like to report a gnome thief. Yes, a thief of gnomes.” He listened for a moment, his brow creased. “No, that’s not the new Kevin Costner movie. It’s my next-door-neighbor Ted.”

“But, Tex!”

But Tex held up his hand in a silencing gesture. “No, this is not a joke, Dolores. Ted Trapper is a gnome thief. He stole my gnomes and he stole Kinnard Daym’s gnomes, too. No, I’m not trying to be funny, Dolores.”

“Tex, please,” said Ted piteously.

“What’s going on here?” asked Marcie, now also joining the piquant scene.

I could have told them that Ted was innocent, but no one was going to give me the time of day, or understand what I was saying. Only Gran could, or Marge or Odelia, and of those three there was no trace.

“Tex is calling the police!” Ted cried, bringing his hands to his head and helplessly pulling at his hair.

“Where did those gnomes come from?” asked Marcie, suddenly spotting the abundance of gnomes.

“Someone chucked them over the fence. Just now. I would have caught them but I got distracted by Tex.”

“Yes, Dolores, I know today is not April Fools.”

“You didn’t put those gnomes there?” asked Marcie, planting her hands on her hips and giving her husband a look that could kill—or at least maim.

“No! I’m telling you, someone threw them there.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. They were on the other side of the fence.”

Marcie now stalked over to where her husband was pointing and looked. “No one there,” she announced.

“Of course not! They ran away.”

“Mh,” said Marcie.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Mh,” Marcie repeated, looking highly skeptical.

“Gnomes, Dolores. Not hobbits, gnomes.”

In the meantime Marge had come walking out of the house, drawn by all the noise. “What’s going on?” she asked.

Happy that finally a sane person had entered the fray, I said, “Someone was chucking gnomes over the fence into the Trappers’ backyard, and now Tex thinks Ted is a thief and he’s calling the police.”

Marge stared from me to the gnomes and then to her husband. Taking decisive action, she simply grabbed her husband’s phone away and tapped Disconnect.

“Hey! “said Tex. “I think I was finally getting through to Dolores!”

“Ted didn’t steal those gnomes,” she said. “So stop making a fool of yourself, Tex.”

“Thank you, Marge!” said Ted, over the moon by this unexpected vote of confidence.

“How do you know Ted didn’t steal them?” asked Marcie with a frown.

“Because… I saw the thieves,” said Marge. “From… the kitchen window.”

Marcie directed a curious look in the direction of said kitchen windows, then to the fence. “Impossible,” she determined. “Unless you’re superwoman and you have X-ray vision.”

“Oh, all right. I happened to be hanging up my laundry just now, and I heard a strange noise so I glanced over and saw them at it. I should have said something, but I don’t like to stick my nose in other people’s business.”

“See!” said Ted triumphantly “What did I tell you?”

“So you saw them and you said nothing?” asked Marcie, still continuing suspicious.

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

“You saw the thieves and you didn’t tell me?” asked Tex, sounding disappointed. Whether he was disappointed because Ted wasn’t a thief, or because his wife hadn’t confided in him was hard to tell at this point.

“Look, you’re all wasting time,” said Marge, gesturing to the pile of gnomes. “You should be going after those thieves instead of standing around here arguing.”

“She’s right,” said Ted. And to show his neighbor that he wasn’t one for holding a grudge, he added, “Let’s go get them, Tex.”

And before our very eyes, the mild-mannered accountant jumped the fence!

Or at least he would have, if he was a lissome deer and not a pudgy accountant. As it was, he got stuck halfway and was dangling, the fence painfully poking his midsection.

“Marcie?” he said in a strangled voice. “Please help.”

Chapter 30

It was clear to me that things were hotting up in Hampton Cove. Odelia had given us an update on where she stood with the investigation, and there had been a couple of startling developments, one of which was Jacqueline Goossens coming forward and revealing that Dan had told her he was soon coming into the possession of an object that would blow Jack Warner and his Society out of the water once and for all.

It pretty much sealed the deal, as far as I was concerned: as everyone knows, collectors are often unhinged, and will go to any means to lay their sweaty little paws on the object that will complete their collection. And Dan was just such a collector when it came to all things Maria Power.

And then of course there was the mysterious affair of the gnome thieves, who’d almost been caught by Ted Trapper, if only the latter had been a little lighter on his feet, and a little slimmer around the tummy.

But the most important development, as far as I was concerned, was of course the arrival of our very own secret weapon in the form of Elsa.

So it was with a sense of breathless anticipation that I explained to Harriet and Brutus that a solution to the mouse problem might finally be at paw, and as we all gazed with awe at the tiny mouse, who’d hitherto belonged to Maria Power, I don’t think there had ever been, in the whole history of felinity, four cats filled with more abject admiration for a single mouse than we were right now.

“Do you want some more cheese?” asked Harriet with a reverence I’d never thought her capable.

“Are you quite comfortable on that cushion?” asked Brutus. “Do you want me to fluff it up for you?”

“No, I’m fine,” said Elsa, nibbling her piece of cheese daintily, while stretched out on my favorite pillow, which I’d gratefully offered her.

“Do you want to watch some television?” asked Dooley. “An episode of Tom and Jerry, maybe?” He turned to me, and explained, “Just to get her in the right frame of mind.”

I nodded seriously. “Good thinking, Dooley. Mindset is everything.”

“I’m fine, you guys,” said Elsa with a laugh. “Stop fussing.”

I’d more or less hoped that she would simply sweep into the place, talk to the mice like a Dutch uncle—or, as in this case, a murine aunt—and we could wrap the whole thing up before sunset. But Elsa was obviously one of those mice who liked to do things properly. With forethought and careful planning.

And she was right, of course. No general goes into battle without a good meal and a good night’s rest, and Elsa was no different.

“If you want I can give you a foot massage,” Harriet offered now.

“Or a back rub?” Brutus suggested.

“I’m fine!” Elsa said, and munched down the final remaining piece of cheese with visible relish. She wiped her mouth and looked around. “Nice place you got here. I really like what you’ve done with it.”

“Yeah, Odelia has great taste,” I said. “She’s the decorator in our family. Chase hasn’t really made his mark yet since he moved in.” Except for the gym equipment he’d lugged upstairs, of course, but that was more of an eyesore than an improvement, to be honest.

“So… do you have a strategy in mind?” asked Harriet.

“Nah, I think I’ll just wing it,” said Elsa, licking her paws.

“What do you want us to do?” asked Brutus. “Or do you prefer to go in alone?”

“Actually I do think I’ll go it alone. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Oh, no, by all means,” I said, happy that I wasn’t going to have to face that hostile pack of mice again.

“One very important thing, though,” said Elsa, stifling a yawn.

“Anything,” I said eagerly.

“I’m going to need your written authorization to deal with the matter of the mice.” When we merely stared at her, she added, more slowly, “Power of attorney? I am going in there as your official representative after all, so this needs to be official all the way.”

“Oh-kay,” I said. I didn’t want to point out to Elsa that cats can’t write, and that it would be a little hard for us to draw up a letter of attorney just like that, but I was frankly prey to that strange awkwardness that comes upon a person—or cat—when they feel indebted to another person—or mouse. “Um…”

“Though in your case,” Elsa went on with a little frown, “it would probably be best if Odelia signed the papers, absolving me of all responsibility if something goes wrong. She is, after all, the homeowner, and you’re merely guests in this house, am I right?”

“Um, I guess so,” I said. I’d never looked at it that way before, but Elsa made a valid point. Cats, as a rule, can’t actually own a property, since they don’t exactly earn a living, and banks are therefore often reluctant to set them up with a mortgage.

“So you want us to ask Odelia to sign a paper absolving you of all responsibility?” asked Harriet, in an attempt to make things clear.

“Yeah, I think that would be for the best,” said Elsa, settling back with a contented sigh. “Now if you could give me some of that cream cheese I saw in the fridge, that would be just swell.”

While Dooley went in search of the cream cheese, I asked the question I was sure was on everyone’s lips: “Do you think something could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m pretty sure it won’t,” said Elsa. “But you never know. And my mama always said better to be safe than sorry. So it’s best if we do this by the book, don’t you agree, Max?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” I said quickly. “Yeah, I’m all for doing things by the book.” It did strike me that if we needed Odelia to sign a power of attorney it would push back the event we’d all been looking forward to with so much anticipation: the great evacuation. Then again, Elsa was absolutely right. If you’re going to do something, better do it right.

So while Elsa enjoyed her cream cheese, I went in search of Odelia, whose signature had suddenly become very important indeed.

Chapter 31

Vesta was scribbling something in her little notebook. “So what did they look like, these thieves?” she asked, directing a penetrating glance at Ted Trapper, who was rubbing his tummy for some reason.

“Like I already told you, I never saw them. I only heard them.”

“Mh,” said Vesta censoriously. She liked her witnesses more helpful than this, but then beggars can’t be choosers and Ted, even though he was a lousy witness, was also one of her only witnesses. “So what did they sound like?” she asked.

“They giggled,” he said, directing a pained look at his wife Marcie, who stood, arms crossed in front of her chest, and staring down at the pile of gnomes with a distinctly unhappy look on her face. No fastidious homeowner likes to see piles of gnomes suddenly turn up where they’re not invited, and Marcie clearly wondered if she’d have to put them in regular trash or put them out with the recyclables. Or even hazardous waste.

“Giggled?” asked Scarlett, who was also scribbling in a little notebook. She giggled. “Did you just say ‘giggled?’”

“Yeah, they giggled.”

Vesta pounced on this. “They? So there was more than one giggler?”

“I think so,” said Ted.

“So you’re not sure?” asked Vesta, who was getting fed up with this unreliable witness.

“No, I guess I’m not. But I had the impression there was more than one?”

“How many more?” asked Scarlett. “Two, three, a dozen?”

Ted grimaced and shook his head. He helplessly glanced over to Tex and Marge, who’d also joined them in the garden, but who were not much help either.

“I’m pretty sure there was more than one, too,” said Tex.

“Two?” asked Scarlett. “There were two?”

“No, I said I’m pretty sure there was more than one, too.”

Scarlett looked confused. “So is it one or is it two? Be clear, Tex.”

“Oh, what does it matter?” Marge said, throwing up her hands. “We should call the police.”

“No,” said Ted quickly. “No police.”

He’d already expressed his desire to deal with this between neighbors, seeing as he didn’t want it to be widely known that his backyard had become a landfill for gnomes.

“My brother is very discreet,” Marge said. “If you tell him you want this handled on the down-low, he’ll handle it on the down-low.”

“Down. Low,” Scarlett muttered as she wrote this down in her neat handwriting.

“Look, I know how these big organizations work, all right,” said Ted. “I used to work for PriceWaterhouseCoopers. It’s simply impossible to keep anything on the down-low.”

Marge’s face took on a dark look. She didn’t like it when people cast aspersions on her brother, of whom she was exceedingly fond.

“Look, how hard can it be to catch two gnome thieves?” asked Ted, exasperated. “They must have left a trace. How about footprints? Fingerprints?”

“Don’t let’s get ahead of ourselves here,” said Vesta. “First we take the witness statements, then we search for clues. There is a method to this madness, Ted.”

She’d downloaded a copy of Sleuthing for Dummies, and even though she’d only read the introduction, she had a feeling she was already getting a good grip on the material. Besides, she was a natural. And she’d helped her granddaughter on so many cases she had experience up the wazoo.

“Why don’t we ask Odelia?” Tex suggested.

“No!” Ted cried. “She’s a reporter,” he explained. “She’ll turn this into a big story.”

“She will not turn this into a big story if we ask her not to,” said Marge, gritting her teeth a little.

Vesta had the feeling that if Ted continued down this road he’d soon make a mortal enemy out of Marge.

“These gnomes,” she said, pointing to the biggest and fattest of the bunch. “You’re telling me they belong to Kinnard Daym?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Tex. “Kinnard’s been bragging about his gnomes for months. In our weekly meetings he can’t stop talking about how he snagged them at an online auction dedicated to gnomes for more money than any of us can afford.”

“We staked out Kinnard’s house last night,” Scarlett said. “And we almost caught the thieves.”

“Must be other collectors,” said Tex. “Gotta be.”

“Yeah, collectors can get very jealous,” Ted agreed. “They must have seen Kinnard’s gnomes on his Facebook or even his Instagram, and listened to his bragging, and decided to teach him a lesson.” His face sagged. “But why they would dump the pride of Kinnard’s collection in my backyard is frankly beyond me.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Marcie. “They wanted to blame you for the theft. They knew that some people would believe you were guilty.” She cut a vicious glance in Tex’s direction, and the latter, much to his credit, affected to look appropriately contrite.

“I’m sorry,” said Tex. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that, Ted.”

“And called him names,” Marcie added.

“And called you names,” Tex agreed shamefacedly.

“Okay, I think that concludes this part of the investigation,” said Vesta, tucking her notebook in the pocket of her tracksuit. “Come on, Scarlett. Let’s go find ourselves some clues.”

“Ooh, clues!” Scarlett, said, tripping after Vesta. “I love clues.”

Vesta studied the fence. She was so short her head didn’t even reach the top. “So how are we going to do this?” she murmured.

“Oh, I know,” said Scarlett. “We simply go around the block and come in from the other side.”

“Barbed wire,” Vesta said curtly.

“I don’t like barbed wire,” said Scarlett.

“Me neither.”

“Here, will this help?” asked Marcie, and pointed to a ladder leaning against a tree.

“Perfect,” said Vesta.

“Excellent,” determined Scarlett.

Things thusly arranged, Vesta soon found herself peering over the fence at the plot of land belonging to Jackson Browne. It was a wild tangle of weeds and nettles and brambles, but a spot right next to the fence had clearly been trampled on. A couple of gnomes were in evidence, the ones the thieves hadn’t had time to chuck over the fence.

“Mh…” she said thoughtfully.

“Do you see anything?” asked Scarlett.

“More gnomes,” she said. “And a can.”

“A can of what?”

“Dunno. Gimme a boost, will you?”

Scarlett gave her a boost, and Vesta tumbled to the ground in a jumble of limbs.

“Ugh,” she said, picking a piece of straw from her neat white curls. She then approached the can and took a good, close look. It was a can of red spray paint.

Scarlett, whose head now cleared the fence, asked, “So what is it?”

“Spray paint,” Vesta announced.

“You can’t touch it. Because of fingerprints.”

“I know I can’t touch it,” she said acerbically. “This ain’t my first rodeo.”

“How do you know it belongs to the thieves?”

“I don’t, but since only sheep come here, it stands to reason that it does.”

“Yeah, I guess sheep don’t need spray paint,” Scarlett agreed. “Well, bag it and hand it over to your son, I suppose? So he can lift the prints?”

“Yeah, I guess,” said Vesta. She was reluctant to involve Alec. She really wanted to prove her mettle with this, the neighborhood watch’s very first investigation. If every time she was stumped she’d go running to the cops, what was the point?

Scarlett threw down a plastic bag that Marcie must have handed her, and Vesta bagged the can and glanced around for more clues. When she didn’t find any, she scaled the wall again, with Scarlett’s help, and finally made it back to Marcie and Ted’s backyard in one piece.

“So what now?” asked Scarlett.

“I’ll think of something,” said Vesta.

Scarlett smiled. “Yeah, I believe you will.”

Chapter 32

It had been a long day for Chase, and when he finally arrived home, all the could think about was to drop down on the couch with a can of Coke Zero and take a load off.

Dan Goory still cooling his heels in prison wasn’t the kind of situation he enjoyed. He liked Dan. As a person and as a highly capable editor. And for Odelia’s boss to be accused of a double homicide was less than ideal.

He’d talked to Heather’s folks again, but they’d admitted to having no idea why she would suddenly head on down to Hampton Cove. She’d certainly not clued them into her plans. All she’d said was that she was soon coming into a great deal of money, and she might even be able to buy herself a house and her parents a new car.

It all pointed to the same story Jacqueline Goossens had told Odelia: that Heather had somehow found herself in the possession of this fabled Romeo and Juliet movie, and wanted to sell it for a big chunk of change. But if she thought Dan was going to be able to pay her what she felt Gnomeo was worth, she would have been in for an unpleasant surprise.

Dan was not a rich man, and would never have been able to pay through the nose for the movie.

Which only served to tighten the noose around the editor’s neck: an avid collector of all things Maria Power, he might have seen an opportunity to add the movie to his collection without paying a single cent: by killing the seller.

The story of Dan getting a call about his car being vandalized was a thin one, in Chase’s estimation: he could very well have broken off his own windshield wipers and simply have stepped out of the office to bring the car around so he could dispose of Heather’s body before Odelia arrived.

His plans had been thwarted by Odelia’s early arrival, and the whole thing had gone south for the newspaper owner.

Only question was: where had he hidden the movie? They’d searched his office and his house, and so far it hadn’t turned up.

Dan, of course, was steadfast in his denial. Heather had never said anything about a movie. In fact he’d never actually met her face to face. And as far as the murder of Jack Warner was concerned, he may have harbored a powerful antipathy toward the man, but he would never stoop to murder. He’d even denied these new charges Jacqueline Goossens had leveled against him. Said he’d never said anything to anyone about coming into the possession of an object that would spell the end of Jack Warner’s fan club.

Chase took a sip from his Coke when his attention was arrested by a strange sight: next to him on the couch a mouse was napping, a smile on the tiny creature’s face, its paws clasped together in nappy heaven, and lying in the center of Max’s favorite pillow.

Chase gulped, gently put down the can of Coke, and rubbed his eyes.

But when he opened them again the mouse was still there, its whiskers vibrating gently, and producing what could only be described as soft snoring sounds!

Odelia came walking down the stairs. “I’ve got the power of attorney right here,” she announced, then caught sight of her boyfriend and smiled. “Hey, you,” she said, leaning in for a kiss and a hug.

He gave her a perfunctory kiss and an equally perfunctory hug, his eyes still riveted on the mouse.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s Elsa,” said Odelia, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to have a mouse napping in the family room. “Max and Dooley met her over at Maria Power’s place. She’s promised to help us get rid of Hector and Helga.”

He swallowed. “Hector and Helga being…”

“The mice family in our basement,” said Odelia. She waved the piece of paper. “All Elsa needed was this power of attorney, absolving her of all responsibility in case something goes wrong with the eviction.”

Chase stared at his girlfriend. “What could possibly go wrong?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse. “When one mouse decides to evict another mouse?”

“Yeah, it’s a brave new world, isn’t it?” asked Odelia with a grin.

He nodded automatically, then shook his head. “Sometimes I feel as if I’ve landed on a different planet.”

“I’ll bet there’s plenty of other people that talk to their cats,” said Odelia as she took a seat next to Chase on the couch. “Only we haven’t met them yet.”

“Maybe you could start a Facebook group,” he suggested, only half in jest. “Or even a WhatsApp group.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” said Odelia, directing a dreamy look at the ceiling. “If all the people who can talk to their cats got together, just imagine what we could do.”

“I’m not sure I want to imagine,” Chase murmured. The mouse stirred, and he scooted a little further away from the critter. “I think it’s waking up,” he said.

“Max!” Odelia bellowed. “Can you tell Elsa I’ve got the paperwork ready?!”

Max came trotting up, in through the pet flap, and looking decidedly antsy, Chase thought.

The big orange cat meowed something, and Odelia meowed right back. For a moment, they ‘talked’ back and forth like that, until finally Max gently shook the mouse. The tiny creature woke up, yawned and stretched. Odelia handed it the piece of paper, she scanned it quickly and finally nodded. Actually nodded!

There was more meowing after that, but Chase felt he’d had all the animal interaction he could stand for one evening, so he got up from the couch and decided to pay a visit to his future father-in-law next door.

Tex was seated on his porch, staring into the distance with a strange look on his face. When Chase came walking up, he started. “Oh, hey, Chase,” he said.

“Hey, Dad,” said Chase, and Tex grimaced. Tex still wasn’t used to Chase calling him Dad. “So how are things with the gnomes?”

“Oh, don’t ask,” said Tex with a frown. “I made a damn fool of myself by accusing Ted of being a thief. Turns out there’s actual professional gnome thieves on the prowl. We almost caught them at it, but they managed to skedaddle.”

“Gnome thieves, huh? I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

“Yeah, looks like.”

Chase joined Tex on the porch swing and for a moment neither man spoke.

“So do you want me to look into this theft?” asked Chase finally. It would be a nice change from the double homicide he was investigating.

“No, that’s all right,” said Tex. “Ted doesn’t want to involve the police. So he’s asked Vesta instead.”

Chase scoffed a little. “Vesta? I didn’t know she was a detective.”

“Her and Scarlett both. They’re starting a neighborhood watch, and they’re very eager to make their mark.”

Chase groaned. “Oh, dear.”

“Say that again.” Tex smiled and clapped his son-in-law on the knee. “You can still back out, son. It’s not too late.”

“Not a chance in hell, Dad. I’m in this for the long haul.”

Tex gave him a sideways glance. “Yeah, I think you are. More power to you. It’s not easy negotiating the family ties in this particular family.”

“I think I can handle it. I just saw Odelia negotiate with a mouse, so I have a feeling I’m just about ready for anything.”

The doctor laughed. “A mouse?”

“Yeah, apparently Max has recruited a mouse to evict the other mice that have taken over our basement. But first Odelia had to sign a document absolving it of all responsibility in case anything goes wrong with the eviction.” He shook his head. “I swear sometimes I feel like Alice in Wonderland.”

“You’ll get used to it. In fact I think you’re handling yourself amazingly well. I remember when Marge told me about the cat thing. I thought she was pulling my leg, until I saw Vesta scolding a cat about something. It took me a long time to get over my initial shock.”

“Vesta is an acquired taste,” Chase agreed.

They both stared out across the backyard, where Tex’s gnomes were once again dotting the landscape and spreading their particular brand of apple-cheeked delight.

Suddenly, from behind a bush near the back of the yard, Vesta popped up, immediately followed by Scarlett. Moments later, they sank out of sight again.

Tex heaved a deep sigh. “Like I said, you can still back out now, son.”

Chase swallowed, then said, “Nope.”

Tex patted him on the shoulder. “Brave man.”

Chapter 33

I really wanted to be there when Elsa went toe to toe with Hector and Helga, but she’d insisted it was best if she dealt with them singlepawedly and without feline interference, so after setting out some more snacks so she could keep her strength up ahead of the epic battle of the mice, all cats left the house.

It probably was for the best, for it had become clear to me that things might just turn ugly, and I simply hate bloodshed of any kind. Perhaps a little strange for a pet detective but there you have it. I get squeamish at the sight of blood, and Elsa looked as if she was ready to get into a real tussle with her headstrong fellow mice.

As it happens Vesta and Scarlett had asked us to join them on a very important mission, so everything worked out fine. By the time we returned from the mission, the house would finally be mouse-free, apart from Elsa, and I was looking forward to that.

“What do you want us to do?” asked Harriet as we got into Gran’s car.

“We’re going to catch these gnome thieves once and for all,” said Gran. “And since you guys can outrun the rest of us, I want you to jump them when you get the chance, and make them think twice about making fools out of the gnome owners of this town.”

“You only have to ask,” said Harriet, as she sheathed and unsheathed her claws with relish. Even though she balks at going mano a mano with a family of mice, Harriet has no trouble drawing blood when it comes to the more burglarious element of society.

The four of us were all ensconced on the backseat of Gran’s red Peugeot, while she took the wheel, with Scarlett handling navigation duties. Even though the car was outfitted with GPS, Gran preferred to do things the old-fashioned way.

“So just to bring you guys up to speed,” said Gran, and Scarlett giggled. Gran frowned at her friend. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” said Scarlett. “I’m still not used to you talking to your cats like that. It sounds so funny!”

“Well, maybe I’ll teach you,” said Gran.

“Oh, would you?” asked Scarlett excitedly.

“I was kidding. Talking to cats is one of those things you have to be born with. And now are you going to let me finish or what?”

Scarlett rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be nasty about it. I was just saying—”

“I know what you were saying, and I’m saying you can’t always get what you want. I can talk to cats and you can’t and you’re just going to have to live with that.”

Scarlett turned in her seat. “You know what? If you’re going to be like this, I don’t even want to go on a stakeout with you. Goodbye.” And with these words, she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door to get out.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Scarlett,” said Gran. “I was just kidding.”

“I don’t think you were.”

“All right, I wasn’t. Now are you going to make a big deal out of it?”

Scarlett pursed her lips. “I might.”

“Well, don’t. We’re in this together, you and me. And we gotta see this through. So what do you say? Truce?”

Scarlett continued fuming for a moment, but then shrugged and said, “Truce,” and closed the door again. “You can be such a jerk sometimes, you know that, Vesta?”

“Yeah, I know. But so can you.”

Scarlett laughed an incredulous laugh. “Are you calling me a jerk?”

“You just called me a jerk!”

“That’s because you are one.”

“So are you!”

Scarlett narrowed her eyes, and I waited with bated breath about her next move. Her nails were pretty long and sharp, I saw, and if she used them on Gran she could do some real damage.

But then, much to my surprise, she actually threw her head back and roared with laughter! And even more to my surprise, so did Gran!

“What a pretty pair we are!” said Scarlett, wiping away a tear.

“Two jerks!” said Gran.

“Maybe that’s what we should call ourselves. The Two Jerks Neighborhood Watch.”

Gran laughed again. “Somehow I doubt whether the other members would appreciate that.”

“What other members?” asked Harriet.

Gran turned to us with a twinkle in her eye. “Wait and see,” she said. “You’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

When, at the next stop, Father Reilly joined us, and so did Shanille, surprise was indeed written all over Harriet’s features, but whether it was a pleasant one was hard to say. Somehow her first words told me it wasn’t.

“I should have known you’d stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” she growled.

Shanille tilted her chin prissily, and said, “If you’d be able to solve these mysteries all by yourselves, your human would never have called in the help of a specialist.”

“Who are you calling a specialist!”

“In one word? Me, myself and I.”

“That’s three words,” Dooley happily announced.

“Oh, shut up, Dooley,” said Harriet and Shanille in unison.

“This is going to be so great,” Brutus muttered, and we shared a look of commiseration.

Father Reilly had squeezed himself into the backseat, and so five cats were forced to occupy whatever space was left, which wasn’t much, I can tell you!

And the end wasn’t even in sight, as Gran had one more stop to make: right in front of the General Store, where Wilbur Vickery stood waiting.

He peered into the vehicle and grunted, “You couldn’t have picked a bigger car? Hello, Francis.”

“Wilbur,” said Father Reilly with a nod.

Wilbur filed into the car, relegating the cat contingent to the footwell, and if we thought we’d come to the end of our troubles, of course Kingman chose that moment to jump right on top of his human’s lap and give us a little wave.

“All right down there, fellas?” he asked, and had the gall to laugh!

“I don’t like this neighborhood watch, Max,” said Dooley, and I think he spoke for all of us at that point.

Luckily we didn’t have far to drive, and soon the car pulled to a stop and we all got out.

“So what’s the plan?” asked Father Reilly, frowning at the house across the road.

“Isn’t that Vince Damsel’s place?” asked Wilbur.

“Yes, but what I meant was, what are we doing here?”

“Let me fill you in,” said Gran, taking charge of the proceedings like a natural-born neighborhood watch leader. “Vince Damsel is the owner of one of the biggest collections of garden gnomes in town. And so far he’s been able to keep the thieves at bay. But I got a hunch his troubles are about to start.”

“What makes you think that?” asked Father Reilly.

“Well, all the other gnome collectors have been hit already. So Vince is the last holdout, and one of the fattest targets yet.”

“So we think,” Scarlett continued, “that sooner or later Vince’s gnomes are going to prove a target that’s too attractive to resist.”

“Sooner or later?” said Wilbur, plucking at his beard. “You mean we gotta camp out here night after night hoping these rascals will turn up?”

“It does seem a little haphazard if you ask me, Vesta,” said Father Reilly.

“No one asked you, Francis,” Vesta snapped. “You said you wanted to be a part of the watch, and now you are. So shut up and do as you’re told for a change, will you?”

“Gran is in her element, isn’t she?” Dooley said.

“She is,” I said. “This neighborhood watch business brings out the best in her.” Or the worst, depending how you looked at it.

“Look, we’re all here because we want the same thing,” Scarlett said now, trying to smooth Father Reilly’s ruffled feathers. “We all want to live in a safe and pleasant neighborhood. Right?”

“I guess,” said Father Reilly, who didn’t look happy.

“So let’s make sure we catch those thieves and put them behind bars, all right?”

Father Reilly muttered something I couldn’t quite catch. It sounded a lot like, ‘Vincit qui se vincit.’

“And what do you want us to do?” asked Shanille now.

But Gran, for obvious reasons, couldn’t exactly talk to us in front of her fellow watch members. So instead she pointed in the direction of Vince Damsel’s house.

I got the message loud and clear. While the neighborhood watch’s human contingent took up its vigil on this side of the street, us cats were expected to move closer to the scene, and actually guard the gnomes at close range.

So we did as Gran implied, and crossed the street at a trot. And soon we were in Vince’s front yard, and had all selected a couple of gnomes for close protection detail.

Now I knew what Kevin Costner must have felt like in that movie The Bodyguard. Though of course Whitney Houston was much lovelier than any of the foul gnomes that glared at me in the light of a lone streetlamp.

I sighed. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 34

“So is this what the neighborhood watch is all about?” asked Dooley. He was lying next to me, neatly hidden underneath a rhododendron bush.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said. “It’s called a stakeout, and basically it means you just stick around until something happens.”

“Which might be never,” said Harriet from her position underneath the next bush.

“So do you guys do this often?” asked Kingman. He was even further down the line, and had found Shanille next to him as his stakeout-mate.

“Actually, no,” I said.

“Oh, but I thought you and Odelia did this kind of thing all the time?”

“Mostly she talks to people,” I said. “And we talk to those same people’s pets. Staking out a place is not something we do on a daily basis.”

“I like it,” Shanille announced. “It think it’s soothing. Just lying here in this cool grass. The stars… the moon… the silence of the night. I think it’s very… romantic.”

“Is that a fact?” said Kingman, and I could hear the grin in his voice.

“I thought you had cat choir,” said Harriet. “Aren’t you afraid they’ll miss you?”

“Not really,” said Shanille. “I asked Buster to take over. Aren’t you afraid they’re going to miss your solo?”

“Not really,” said Harriet. “I could be mistaken, but sometimes I have the impression no one appreciates my solos. And it’s at moments like that that I wonder what I’m doing it for, you know?”

Dooley and I shared a look of concern. I’d never heard Harriet turn philosophical like this. Must be the stars… the moon… the silence of the night.

Or it could be the silent stares of the gnomes, their beady little eyes boring into ours. They looked like they were alive, which was ridiculous, of course.

“I think I speak for every member of cat choir when I tell you that we all like your solos, Harriet,” said Shanille. “Isn’t that right, Kingman?”

“Mh? What? Oh, yeah, sure. Absolutely. Lovely solos. Just lovely.”

“You have a wonderful singing voice,” said Shanille. “And you should be proud of it.”

“Thanks, Shanille,” said Harriet, sounding surprised. “That’s… very nice of you to say.”

“I mean it. Have you tried the stage?”

“Yes, I have,” said Harriet. “It wasn’t a great success.”

“You should try again. I think you’ll find that with practice you’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” said Harriet, clearly moved.

“That gnome is staring at me, Max,” said Dooley, pointing to a fat gnome in front of us.

“That gnome is just a piece of painted plaster, Dooley,” I said. Though my friend was right. The gnome was, indeed, staring at us. With a flicker of malice in its eyes. Creepy!

“I heard Dan Goory is still in jail?” said Kingman.

“Yeah, it looks like he just might be the killer after all,” I said.

“Odelia isn’t happy about it,” Brutus grunted. “It probably will cost her her job.”

“It’s not because of her job that she’s unhappy,” said Harriet. “It’s because Dan is a friend, and she finds it hard to believe one of her friends could be a killer.”

“I find it hard to believe, too,” said Shanille. “Father Reilly was saying just the other day how Dan is one of the most upstanding citizens in this town, and now this. It’s terrible—simply terrible.”

“Wilbur said just the opposite,” said Kingman. “I heard him tell several of his customers how he’s always thought there was something fishy about Dan. Something evil.”

“You shouldn’t listen to Wilbur, Kingman,” said Shanille. “He is what Father Reilly likes to call a fallible human.”

“All humans are fallible, though,” said Harriet. “Well, they are,” she insisted when Kingman groaned. “They all make mistakes, but most of them try to learn from their mistakes, which makes them admirable in my book.”

See? What did I tell you? These stakeouts bring out the philosopher in all of us.

“I hope Elsa has managed to get rid of the mice,” said Brutus. “Otherwise this night will have been a complete waste of time.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find that Elsa will keep her promise,” I said. “She’s an absolute marvel.”

“Who’s this Elsa?” asked Shanille.

“She’s a mouse Max met,” Brutus grunted. “She’s going to get rid of the mice in the basement.”

Kingman laughed at this. “You got a mouse to get rid of your mice? That’s probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”

“It’s not ridiculous,” I said, feeling slightly offended by this slight. “In fact I think it’s brilliant. Who else but a mouse knows how to get under another mouse’s skin? It’s all about psychology, Kingman.”

“Yeah, it’s all about psychology,” Dooley echoed. “And speaking about psychology, did you hear the one about the priest, the rabbi and the shrink?”

Unfortunately the punchline of Dooley’s joke would have to wait for a more opportune time, as suddenly there was a loud crashing sound nearby, and two people jumped the hedge and landed right in front of Dooley and me. They were both clad in black from head to toe, and were carrying black plastic bags, and before I knew what was happening, they were tearing gnomes out of the ground and dumping them into the bags.

“Max! What do we do?!” Dooley cried.

“Um… we attack!” I said, though I wasn’t exactly sure if this was the right strategy. Humans, you see, are a lot bigger than cats, and on top of that I didn’t know if these blackguards were armed or not.

Still, we’d been recruited to the neighborhood watch to serve and protect, so serve and protect we were going to do to the best of our limited abilities!

I jumped on top of one of the thieves, while Dooley dug his claws into the thief’s ankles. Harriet and Brutus applied the same technique to the second sneak thief, while Kingman and Shanille followed suit, dividing their labor equally amongst the two men—for that was what they were.

So the state of affairs was thus: I was on the back of one of the men, my claws dug in nice and deep, Dooley had his claws into the man’s left calf, and Shanille had climbed the man like a tree and was now on top of his head, holding on for dear life as he screamed at the top of his lungs and thrashed about like a crazy person.

Next to us, the same picture held true, only there both Kingman and Harriet had selected the man’s shoulders as their point of attack, while Brutus had found nothing better than to dig his teeth and claws into the man’s buttocks.

Yikes. Not a pleasant prospect, either for the man, or for poor Brutus!

Soon, though, reinforcements appeared on the scene, in the form of Gran, Scarlett, Father Reilly and Wilbur Vickery. With some effort they managed to subdue both men, and pin them to the ground, effectively rendering our efforts superfluous.

Brutus, who was spitting out a piece of pantaloon, and Dooley, who was shaking his paw to get rid of some of the fabric he’d torn loose, were all right and accounted for, and so was Kingman. Shanille, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found.

Until, at long last, she came teetering up. Apparently her thief had managed to eject her from his head, and she’d found herself ejected into the bushes.

“Remove their masks,” said Gran now.

Wilbur and Father Reilly, seated on the men’s backs, did as they were told, and imagine my surprise when the two men turned out to be two boys instead!

“Flint Dibbert and Bart Stupes!” cried Father Reilly. “I should have known.”

Flint and Bart are what you might call troubled youth, in that they are young and they keep troubling people with their antics. They once spray-painted some very offensive slurs on Uncle Alec’s house—and badly spelled, to boot. And now they’d graduated to a more serious level of criminal activities: gnome-lifting.

“Why?” asked Gran. “Why did you steal all those gnomes?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Bart, who was nursing a nasty cut on his cheek, where Shanille had probably grazed him before he’d thrown her off. “That idiot called us names.”

“What idiot?” asked Gran. She was right to ask the question, as there are a great many idiots to choose from at any given occasion.

“Ted Trapper, of course,” said Bart, who was by way of being the spokesperson of the pair. “So we decided to pay him a lesson.” He grinned. “We knew how much he likes the gnomes, so we decided to set him up with all the gnomes in Hampton Cove.”

“All of the gnomes!” said his brother in crime.

“So they’d all get angry with him,” Bart continued, laying out his evil scheme in all its poignant starkness. Or is it stark poignance?

“All of them angry with poor old Ted!” cried Flint.

“You wanted to get the gnomes angry?” asked Scarlett, confused.

“All the gnome owners, you stupid old bat!” Bart cried, earning himself a scowl from Scarlett.

“This is not the way, boys,” said father Reilly. “Violence begets violence. Instead of retaliating, you should try to find it in your hearts to forgive.”

“Oh, shut up, you old coot,” said Flint.

Father Reilly, instead of turning the other cheek, simply hauled off and gave the young thug a slap across the cheek. It echoed through the deserted street, as did the muttered ‘Ow!’ from the offended youth.

By the time the police finally showed up to take the two youthful criminal masterminds into custody, I could tell that the members of the neighborhood watch, in spite of their first success, were all eager to head home to their respective beds.

And frankly I was eager to get home, too. Not to hit the hay, though, but to find out if the house was now pleasantly devoid of mice!

Tonight might have seen Hampton Cove’s gnome population get rid of a clear and present danger to its continued existence, now it was time for us cats to get rid of our murine menace.

Chapter 35

I arrived home feeling on top of the world. Not only had we been instrumental in snatching a pair of gnome snatchers, but I was absolutely sure we’d now find our house mouse-free for the first time in a long while.

So it was with a faint sense of alarm that I walked in through the pet flap and saw the disaster area that was our kitchen: the cupboards were open, and so was the fridge and the door to the pantry, and food was strewn about liberally all over the place. The living room was a mess, and so was the small family room where we like to watch TV. All in all, it looked as if someone had thrown a party and neglected to clean up after themselves. It didn’t take me long to pin down the culprits, as I saw tiny mice feet all over the place.

Seated on the couch were a haggard-looking Odelia and an equally haggard-looking Chase. Both of them clearly hadn’t had much sleep.

“The mice,” said Odelia when she caught sight of me and Dooley. “They’ve been at it again.”

“Did you tell them about the mice?” asked Chase.

“Yeah, I just did,” said Odelia.

“But… Elsa?” I asked, fearing the worst now.

“I can’t really tell one mouse from another,” said Odelia, rubbing her eyes tiredly, “but it looks to me as if your friend Elsa was the worst of the bunch.”

“Did you tell him about his friend the mouse?” asked Chase.

“Yes, Chase, I just did,” said Odelia through gritted teeth.

“I better go and have a chat,” I said, a little subdued. So I tripped in the direction of the basement, and headed down the stairs. What I saw shook me to my foundations: the mice were clearly having a feast. They were eating and dancing and laughing and partying, and in the center of it all was… Elsa!

“Elsa!” I cried. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, hi, Max,” said my friend.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Oh, I wanted to thank you, Max,” she said, dancing up to me with a definite swing in her step. “Before I met you I had a miserable life. I mean, Boomer was nice, but a dog isn’t the kind of company a mouse likes to keep. And now look at this.” She gestured generously in the direction of Hector and Helga and their family, two hundred strong. “This is what I call living. These are the kind of friends I’ve been hoping to find for a long time.”

“Not friends—family!” Helga cried. “Thanks, Max, for introducing us to such a wonderful new friend.”

I slapped a paw to my brow. “Oh, God,” I said.

“I think it’s wonderful what you’ve done here, Max,” said Elsa. “Create such an amazing home for us. Keep up the good work, and don’t hesitate to drop by any time.”

“Yeah, drop by any time, Max,” said Hector, and raised a thick piece of kibble—my kibble—in a salute.

And as I staggered back up the stairs, and into the family room, the blush that crept up my cheeks was one of both shame and indignation.

“No dice?” asked Odelia when she saw me emerge from the basement—or I should probably say the party zone.

“No dice,” I said. “They like to party, and they’re very grateful for introducing them to a new friend.”

Odelia squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “I should have known.” She swiftly got up. “Well, there’s only one thing left to do.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

But she held up a hand. “I’ll take care of this from now on, Max. You don’t need to concern yourself anymore.”

And with these words, which I experienced like a verbal slap across the face, she disappeared up the stairs, then slammed the bedroom door.

Chase, still sitting on the couch, yelled, “What’s going on?”

Tough to be a non-cat speaker in a cat-speaking house, I guess.

Chapter 36

After running a quick errand in town, Odelia headed straight to the Riviera Country Club where the social event of the season was taking place. She’d opted not to bring her cats along this time, as she was still a little upset that they’d allowed her house to be turned into a pigsty—or a mouse-sty, to be more precise.

She understood why they were reluctant to deal with the mice forcefully and effectively. Max and the others were simply too kind. And she appreciated that kindness, absolutely she did. But right now she was a little upset, and didn’t want to see her cats.

So she arrived at the country club all by her lonesome, having decided to accept the invitation by Jacqueline Goossens for this first-ever joint meeting of the Gnomeos and the Maria Power Society.

The meeting took place in one of the larger conference rooms, and Odelia was surprised to find that there were so many participants in attendance. When she’d first heard of the respective clubs she hadn’t thought so many people were involved.

Even though Maria Power had retired a decade ago, clearly she was still popular.

Jacqueline greeted her at the entrance, and gave her a badge to pin to her blouse.

“Welcome, welcome,” said Jacqueline, beaming with delight. “This is a happy, happy day. Even though the circumstances could have been different—should have been different.” A mournful look passed across her face, but then she was brave again. “I hope you’ll join us. The Gnomeos is a happy club, and a celebration of all that Maria Power represents: talent, beauty, class, style, and of course an infectious positivity.”

“Thanks,” said Odelia. “I’ll think about it.”

She wasn’t exactly a fan of fan clubs, but didn’t want to insult the woman, who’d clearly put a lot of effort into this unique meeting.

She strolled through the room, glanced at the different stalls showcasing everything from DVDs to posters and pictures—signed or otherwise—and took a seat near the back. Soon a new board would be chosen, and new bylaws for the newly formed fan club.

It was a pity, she felt, that Dan couldn’t be there. He would have loved it, she was sure. And as she glanced around, she thought there were at least two hundred people there, many that she recognized, and smiled or waved to several of them in greeting.

And so for the next two hours she did what she did best: she listened and took notes, talked to some people, and shot a couple of pictures, and constructed a potential story in her mind. All the while, though, she couldn’t help but think that maybe this was all simply an exercise in futility: very soon now the Gazette would have to close its doors, and she would be a reporter no more.

Dan had once promised her that when he retired she’d be able to take over, but he’d never actually finalized anything, figuring he still had a long way to go before he decided to enjoy a well-earned retirement.

Instead, he was going to enjoy a well-earned stretch in prison, and she had no legal right, or financial means, to continue the paper. She was, after all, merely an employee.

Finally, the morning wound down, and she joined the line as people filed out of the conference room. There would be drinks served, and even a light lunch for those who’d signed up on the website, but Odelia frankly had had enough and wanted to leave.

She waved to Jacqueline, and then she was briskly walking to her car, and moments later was on her way back to Hampton Cove.

She was already back at the office when she realized she’d lost her phone.

I was feeling a little down in the dumps, and I think you probably don’t have to guess why. My human was upset with me, and my home wasn’t really my home anymore.

And so it was with a weary sigh and a very dark mood indeed that I’d taken refuge next door. At least in Marge and Tex’s house things were still the way they’d always been.

And I was sleeping peacefully on a chair when a sort of ruckus or brouhaha suddenly broke out.

The sound of loud screams rent the air, and I thought the noise was coming from next door. I hopped down from the chair and went in search of answers.

Dooley, who’d been sleeping upstairs, on Tex and Marge’s bed—he likes to sleep there of a morning, as the bed is nice and comfy and, most importantly, devoid of people taking up valuable space—came trotting down the stairs with a questioning look on his face.

I shrugged, since I had no idea what was going on either.

Brutus and Harriet emerged from the bushes when we passed through the pet flap. It’s one of their favorite places to take a nap.

“What’s going on?” asked Harriet, annoyed by this interruption of what was probably a most wonderful nap.

“No idea,” said Dooley. “But it seems to be coming from Odelia’s.”

So we all passed through the hole in the hedge, and the sight that met our eyes was one for the books indeed: a long stream of mice was passing through the garden, all of them either screaming or crying loudly, and at the head of this pack of mice were Hector and Helga. They were moving in the direction of Jackson Browne’s field, though I couldn’t understand why they’d undertake such an expedition all of a sudden.

Finally, at the end of the line of mice, I recognized the familiar figure of Elsa.

“What’s going on?” I asked, puzzled.

Elsa gave me a sad look. “I should have known it was too good to be true,” she said. “Your scary friend came into our basement just now, and threatened to eat us all alive. And to show us she meant business, she grabbed a handful of Helga’s babies and actually put them into her mouth! Of course Hector and Helga went berserk, but the cat was not to be deterred. She said that if we didn’t skedaddle on the double, she was going to eat us all with hide and hair! And she wasn’t kidding, that much was immediately clear to me.”

“A friend?” asked Harriet. “What friend?”

“I don’t remember the name. But she’s the scariest cat I’ve ever seen. A real killer. One of those cats that takes pleasure in murdering innocent mice.” She held out a paw and tapped mine. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Max. I’ll see you around.”

And with these words, she joined the throng as it filed out of our backyard.

We all looked at one another with surprise written all over our features. And then moved into the house as one cat, eager to discover who this wonder-cat could possibly be. I have to confess I had a good idea as to this scary cat’s identity, though, and I soon discovered I’d guessed correctly.

For who would be waiting for us inside but… Clarice!

“Hi, you guys,” the tough feline said good-naturedly. “I took care of your little problem for you. I hope that’s okay.”

“Okay!” I cried. “It’s more than okay! It’s a miracle.”

“Eh,” she said with her customary cool.

“Did you… eat them?” asked Dooley, wide-eyed.

“I didn’t have to,” said Clarice. “Nor was I allowed to, I have to add. Odelia strictly forbade me to tuck in. Pity. But there you have it. Anyway, as soon as I set foot in that basement, it was game over for Hector and Helga.” She spoke these last words with a grim expression on her face, and I could very well see how the mice would have been intimidated to a degree.

“Odelia asked you to come?” asked Harriet.

“Yeah, she thought you guys could use a paw, so I was only happy to lend you one.” She held out her paw, and the sharpness of her claws, and the pleasure she took in watching them catch a lone ray of sunshine, made me gulp a little.

“Too bad I wasn’t allowed to grab a couple of the fat ones,” she murmured. “I’m a little peckish, to be honest.”

“Oh, but by all means, have some of my food,” I said, gesturing to the kitchen.

“And mine!” said Dooley.

“No, take mine, please, Clarice,” said Harriet.

“Clarice will eat from my food or she won’t eat at all!” bellowed Brutus.

Clarice grinned at this, and said, “Thanks. Most kind.”

“One question, Clarice,” I said, as she ambled toward the kitchen. “Why did you come now, and not before, when we asked?”

She shrugged. “I like your human. She’s the first one that’s ever been nice to me. You guys—of course I think you’re all great, but if I have to come running every time a cat asks me to help them deal with some little problem I’d have a full-time job.”

I nodded. “Odelia is special,” I agreed.

She fixed me with a glance. “You have no idea.” And then she tucked in.

And I had to hand it to her: she gave us all the respect we required. In other words: she ate from all of our bowls in equal measure. Which is to say she ate it all.

But she’d earned it. Oh, had she earned it!

Chapter 37

That evening, Odelia was just about to head into her parents’ backyard for dinner when the doorbell chimed out a pleasant tune.

She’d just nipped back to her own house to grab an extra plate, and was still carrying it in her hand when she went to answer the door.

To her surprise it was Jacqueline. But when she saw what the woman was holding up, she let out a small cry of pleasure.

“My phone!”

“You left it at the conference this morning,” Jacqueline said. “I thought you probably wanted to have it back as quickly as possible, so I asked around and got your address.”

“Oh, that’s so kind of you,” said Odelia, and invited the woman in.

“I can’t stay long,” said Jacqueline as she passed into the living room. “Such a nice home,” she said, looking into the backyard, where Harriet and Brutus were lying on the grass, belly up as they sometimes liked to do when they were completely relaxed. “And what lovely cats you have.”

“Yeah, it’s small but cozy,” said Odelia, who was proud of her little home, in spite of its modest dimensions or furnishings.

“So what did you think of the meeting?”

“Oh, I thought it went very well. The two clubs coming together like that is a great accomplishment.”

“Too bad it took a tragedy to get us there,” said Jacqueline.

Just then, Max came padding into the room, and the moment he caught sight of Jacqueline he paused mid-step.

“How did you get involved with this whole Maria Power thing?” asked Odelia, still clutching her plate for some reason.

“I’ve always been fascinated by her,” said Jacqueline. “I saw my first Maria Power movie when I was a teen, and she’s been my favorite actress ever since. She has something quite… timeless, don’t you think? Timeless and remarkably striking. With a single gesture she can mesmerize an entire room of moviegoers.”

Max was making frantic gestures now, for some reason, and Odelia raised a questioning eyebrow in his direction.

“Also, she’s like a chameleon. She could transform into anyone she liked. Man, woman. Young, old. She could be anything. I think she’s the greatest actress of our time.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty great,” said Odelia.

“It’s her!” Max cried.

Odelia frowned. “So, um, do you maybe want to stay for dinner, Jacqueline?”

“Oh, no,” said the woman. “I just wanted to drop off your phone. Although…” She turned to the window and sniffed. “It does smell delicious.”

“It’s Maria Power!” Max cried, and Odelia snapped her head up.

“You know what? I don’t want to trouble you, but I do love a home-cooked meal,” said Jacqueline pleasantly.

“Yeah, no, that’s fine,” said Odelia. She held up the plate. “I was just grabbing an extra plate when you arrived.”

“Serendipity!” Jacqueline laughed.

“She’s Maria Power!” Max repeated. “I recognize her scent.” He frowned. “Which means… it was also her in Dan’s office that morning, with Heather Gallop. And it was her with Jack Warner, when he was killed. And it was her at Daisy Rayo’s house, when she tumbled down the stairs. All this time I thought it was the dress on the mannequin in Dan’s office, or the dress on the bed in Jack Warner’s hotel room, or the hat in Daisy Rayo’s fan room, but no scent would be that strong or linger that long. Not after all those years. It must have been Maria Power herself—in all three places—in disguise!”

Odelia gulped a little at this revelation. Jacqueline, meanwhile, was still smiling, and walking toward the sliding glass doors. “Do I go through here?” she asked.

“Yes—yes, right through there,” said Odelia. “And then through the hedge over there. You go on ahead, I have to grab… something.”

Jacqueline walked through, and Odelia studied the prominent nose, the chin, the glasses… and realized the woman was in disguise. With a prosthetic nose and chin!

“It’s her, Odelia,” said Max. “She was there every single time.”

“Which means…”

“Which means she just might be the killer,” said Max, finishing her train of thought. “She could have killed them all. Called Dan to get him out of the way and kill Heather. Set up that meeting with Jack and set Dan up to take the fall. And kill Daisy Rayo.”

“But why?” asked Odelia. “Unless…” She thought hard. “Remember the woman who said she saw Daisy enter the house twice?”

“The second time wasn’t Daisy,” said Max. “It was Maria Power, pretending to be Daisy.”

“It was Daisy’s day off,” said Odelia. “That’s what her supervisor said. She wasn’t supposed to be there that day, and yet she conveniently was, to catch Dan in the act.”

“And then she killed the real Daisy to cover her tracks.”

“Because she knew that after the initial interview there would be a second one.”

“And the real Daisy would immediately say she hadn’t been at the hotel that day.”

“That’s so… cunning,” said Odelia.

“She is. Very cunning.”

They stared at each other for a beat. “So now what?” asked Odelia.

“Now you tell your uncle to arrest her,” said Max encouragingly.

“We still don’t know why she did it,” said Odelia.

“Oh, I think you can probably guess,” a voice sounded behind her.

Odelia looked up, and found herself staring into the barrel of a small handgun.

Jacqueline, or Maria Power, gestured with the gun. “It might not look like much, but I can assure you it is quite lethal. I got it as a present from one of my husbands. Husband number five, I seem to remember.”

“You’re Maria Power,” said Odelia.

“How did you guess?” asked the woman with a smile.

“I… just put two and two together.”

“Very clever. Please move away from the window.”

Odelia did as she was told. “Why did you do it?”

The actress shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious?”

And then it dawned on Odelia. “The movie. Gnomeo. You didn’t want Heather to sell it to Dan.”

“Or Jack.”

“But why? It’s your greatest movie. The one that launched your career.”

“Exactly. There’s only one problem with that. I’m not in it.”

Odelia stared at the woman, processing this. “You’re…”

“I’m not in the movie. Let’s call that part Hollywood lore. And oh boy, did I excel at selling the story. Of course Finkelstein wasn’t going to deny anything, because he was already dead at that point, and the actors who did play in the movie were all behind the Iron Curtain at the time, where Finkelstein shot his masterpiece. A lot cheaper that way, and very convenient for me. It was indeed my greatest performance—not the movie, but selling the story that I was in the movie, and that I was so great, so amazing, so mesmerizing that Finkelstein didn’t want anyone else to see it so he destroyed every single copy. The movie launched my career all right, but not the way people think.”

“And if the real movie came out it would reveal the truth.”

“And I couldn’t have that, now could I?” She frowned. “Damned Finkelstein. I should have known he’d have kept a copy. Directors have the biggest egos in show business. They hate to destroy their own work. He must have kept it in a vault, and it ended up in the hands of his daughter, who had no idea of its value, thank God.”

“And then into the hands of Heather Gallop.”

“And oh, boy, did she have an idea of its value. She was going to make good, the money-grubbing little tart. First she gave me a chance to buy it—as if she was doing me a favor. A simple case of malicious blackmail, of course. And when I told her I wasn’t going to play along, she said she already had another buyer lined up.”

“Dan Goory.”

Maria nodded. “So I had to put a stop to that.”

“You dressed up as a UPS man and killed Heather, and Dan ended up being blamed.”

“Exactly. Only then Jack Warner called me out of the blue, and told me he’d seen a copy of the movie. Heather had shown it to him, and he’d secretly filmed it with his phone. He said either he was going to tell the world, or…” She grimaced. “Well, he’d always had this sick fascination with me, and now he saw his chance clear to finally having his way with me. So I set up a meeting at the hotel, and he was only too happy to oblige. Only I didn’t show up there as myself, but as one of the cleaners.”

“How did you know it was Daisy Rayo’s day off?”

“Daisy was a big fan. She’d written me many, many times. I knew she worked at the Star, so I simply called her for a little chat, and the silly thing told me everything I needed to know. I said I was doing research for a new part. A reboot of Hotel, where I was to play the role played by Bette Davis in the pilot, and then later Anne Bancroft in the series.”

“You set up that meeting with Dan, didn’t you? This so-called reconciliation?”

“Of course I did. Jack was much too proud to set aside his differences with Dan. So I made sure Dan was right there at the scene, and then it was a simple matter of acting the distraught maid and giving my statement to the first officer on the scene. Easy peasy.”

“And you killed Daisy to make sure she wouldn’t talk.”

Maria nodded. “And now, I’m sorry to say, I’m going to have to do the same with you. A pity, as I really like you. You’ve got spunk, kid.”

“Wait,” said Odelia when Maria lifted the gun and pointed it at her heart. “How are you going to explain this, your fourth murder?”

Maria shrugged. “I’m not. Anyone could have broken in here and shot you.”

“Why—why did you dress up as Jacqueline? I thought you w-were a recluse?” She was frantically looking for a way out, and noticed to her satisfaction that Max was nowhere to be found. He’d gone for help—she hoped!

The famous actress smiled. “Maria Power is a recluse, but I’m not. I’ve always been a social person, and I like to be out and about. The only problem with being a legend is that you can’t socialize the way you used to. People act funny around you. So I invented poor horse-faced Jacqueline. You’d be surprised how nice people are when you look like this.” She gestured to her face. “And I had a lot of fun pretending to be someone I’m not. I am an actress, after all, and I like to think that Jacqueline was my greatest performance.”

Suddenly behind Maria a figure appeared, and as the actress raised the gun once more, and her finger started to squeeze the trigger, some heavy object came down upon her head, and before she could fire a fatal bullet, her eyes turned up in her head and she dropped to the floor.

Gran, for it was her, held up the garden gnome with which she’d knocked out the actress, and bent down to feel her pulse. “She’ll live,” she said simply, and rose to her feet. “Oh, honey. You really should stop putting yourself in these dangerous situations.”

Marge now also came barging in, followed by Tex, Chase, Uncle Alec and Charlene Butterwick. They all stared at the prostrate figure on the floor, and at Gran, who was holding up the gnome triumphantly.

“I never liked gnomes, but I have to admit they can come in very handy indeed!”

Epilogue

“You’re much more cheerful, Max,” said Dooley. “I like it very much.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said. In fact I hadn’t been able to stop smiling all day.

“It’s my jokes, isn’t it? My jokes have put you in a good mood again.”

“Um…”

“It’s very important. You have to keep laughing. It’s the only way to beat the cancer.”

I stared at my friend. “Cancer? What cancer?”

“The brain cancer. The only cure is laughing. All the experts agree on this.”

“Dooley, I don’t have cancer.”

“But you’ve been looking so sad these past couple of days.”

“Because of Hector and Helga turning our house into a dump and eating all of our food, and Odelia being so upset with me. And now that they’re gone, I’m happy again.”

Dooley studied me for a moment. “So… you never had cancer?”

“No, I never had cancer, Dooley.”

Now it was his turn to smile. “That makes me happy.”

“Which in turn makes me happy.”

“Oh, could you guys cut it out already?” said Harriet, who can never stand too much happiness in one gulp.

We were sitting in our usual place, on the porch swing, while all around us a family feast was in full swing. Tex was manning the barbecue, his tongue sticking out of his mouth from the effort he was putting into the thing, and it had to be said, the man was steadily improving. He’d probably never be Guy Fieri but at least the food was edible.

“You still haven’t explained what happened,” said Harriet, who hated to be kept in the dark.

“Well, Jacqueline Goossens was in fact Maria Power, cleverly disguised so she could mingle with the common people, as she probably saw it.”

“And to commit the odd murder,” Brutus grunted.

“So Maria Power, famous Maria Power, is a killer?” asked Harriet, surprised.

“Yes, she is, and she almost killed Odelia,” I said.

“Let’s not linger on that,” said Marge, who’d joined us for a moment so she could dispense some of her husband’s cooking. “Odelia is safe and sound and so are all of us.”

“And Dan?” asked Harriet. “Is he all right?”

“Yeah, my brother released him from prison as soon as Maria confessed, and he’s already rustling up bids from respective publishers who are all clamoring for his autobiography. He’s calling it, ‘Scenes from the Slammer.’” Marge smiled. “I’m sure it’ll be a bestseller.”

“Of course I always knew Dan was innocent,” said Uncle Alec now, as he addressed the others. “But what could I do? All the evidence pointed against the guy.”

“You thought he was guilty, Alec,” said Charlene. “Admit it.”

“Well, yes, at first I did, and then I didn’t… and then I did. It’s complicated,” he said in a blustering kind of way, and helped himself to another piece of steak, which Charlene immediately removed from his plate and returned to sender.

When he gave her a look of astonishment, she patted his belly. “I like you very much, my pet, and therefore I hope to have you with us for a very long time to come. And if you keep digging your grave with your teeth like that, that’s not going to happen, is it now?”

“I guess not,” he grumbled, looking distinctly unhappy.

“I think if Charlene keeps taking Uncle Alec’s plate away like that, their relationship isn’t going to last very long,” Brutus remarked.

“He doesn’t look happy,” Dooley said thoughtfully. “Do you think he’s got cancer?”

“Oh, Dooley!” Harriet cried. “Enough already with the cancer!”

Dooley gave her a slightly offended frown, then tucked into his own bowl of goodies, which, I can happily report, were in no immediate danger of being stolen by a horde of voracious and frankly very disrespectful mice.

“What’s going to happen to Hector and Helga?” asked Harriet, as if she’d read my mind.

“They’ll remain in that field, and if they don’t behave they’ll be kicked out of there as well,” I said. “Clarice will make sure of that.”

We all directed a curious glance at the field in question, and more in particular at the ramshackle wooden structure Jackson Browne erected to protect his sheep when it rains or storms. I think we all thought the same thing: how long was this new arrangement going to hold? Hector and Helga aren’t exactly trustworthy mice, it has to be said.

“So when Jack Warner announced to the hotel receptionist at the Star that this was the best day of his life,” said Marge, “he wasn’t actually referring to his meeting with Dan?”

“No, he was not,” said Odelia. “He was referring to his meeting with Maria, the star he’d admired all these years, and with whom he finally had managed to snag a date.”

“Snag isn’t the right word,” said Chase. “Blackmail is the word that comes to mind.”

“He got what he deserved,” was Gran’s opinion. “Men like that always meet a sticky end.”

“What happened to Flint and Bart?” asked Scarlett. “Are they still in jail?”

“Nah. They’re minors,” said Uncle Alec. “Can’t keep ‘em. They’ll appear before a juvie judge, who’ll decide what to do with those two rascals.”

“It was a neat little plan they hatched,” said Gran. “Stealing gnomes and dumping them squarely in Ted Trapper’s lap.”

“Neat is not the word I’d use,” Uncle Alec growled.

“Pity that Maria Power turned out to be a homicidal maniac,” said Charlene with a sigh. “Now we’ll never be able to organize a film retrospective again. Plus, since she lived in our town we’ll be tarred with the same brush for a very long time to come.”

“Yeah, I can imagine the whole thing is a PR nightmare for a mayor,” said Marge with concern.

“Oh, we’ll live,” said Charlene with a smile. “In fact it might be a boon for Hampton Cove. Disaster tourism is a real thing, you know.”

“Odelia,” said Marge, taking a seat. “About the wedding. I’ve found the greatest wedding planner. Marina Swath told me she’s simply the best, and surprisingly affordable, too.”

“No, Mom. I told you Chase and I want a small wedding. Not a big production.”

“But, honey!”

Odelia placed her hand on her mother’s arm. “All we want is to say ‘I do’ in front of my family and friends, Mom. It’s as simple as that.”

Marge sighed. “I know, but…”

“Burger up!” Tex yelled, and suddenly a burger was zooming through the air. We all followed it with our eyes, until the scalding hot patty landed with a squelching sound on Uncle Alec’s practically bald pate. It sizzled, and smoke rose up from the Chief’s head.

The big man screamed, and quick as a flash slapped it away.

“Oops,” said Tex. “I was aiming for your plate, Alec, not your pate.”

“It hurts!” Uncle Alec cried, tears actually forming in his eyes. “It hurts bad!”

“Oh, my teddy bear,” said Charlene, then took the burger patty where it had landed on the table, placed it on the Chief’s plate and handed it to him. “You eat this while I go and get some ice.”

“Thanks,” he said, surprised by this unexpected treat. And while Marge and Charlene disappeared into the house to get some ice and a towel, the cop gave Tex two thumbs up. The patty might have scalded his own patty, but it had clearly proved a hit.

“I like it when everybody’s happy,” Dooley declared. “Cancer doesn’t stand a chance when we’re all smiling and having fun.”

“Oh, Dooley,” Harriet groaned.

“No, but it’s true. And to prove to you I’m right, I’m going to tell you another joke. A priest, a rabbi and a rabbit walk into a bar. ‘Dang it’s hot in here,’ says the rabbit. ‘Must be your imagination,’ says the priest. ‘No, it’s your imagination,’ says the rabbit. ‘Why is that?’ asks the rabbi. ‘Ever met a talking rabbit before?’”

It wasn’t a good joke, but I think you have to admit it wasn’t a bad one either. I laughed, and so did Harriet and Brutus. And Dooley? He laughed the loudest of us all.

And if joy and happiness are an indication of good health, I think it’s safe to say that my friend is the healthiest cat alive. Even if his jokes need work. A lot of work.

THE END

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Excerpt from Purrfect Cover (The Mysteries of Max 25)

Chapter One

“Max?”

I lazily opened one eye. “Mh?”

“I have a question for you,” said Dooley. “And I want you to think long and hard before you give me an answer.”

I found myself intrigued. “Okay,” I said therefore. “What is the question?”

“Who can run faster, a hare or a fox?”

I frowned at the questioner. It was a tough one, granted, but even more than that, I failed to see the significance. “I have absolutely no idea,” I said. “Why do you want to know?”

Dooley frowned before him in an idle fashion. “It’s for this quiz show I want to go on.”

“What quiz show?”

“Well, not Jeopardy, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s a new show that Gran likes to watch. They ask you all these questions, and if you give the right answers you can win a car. Or even a house.”

“A house!” I said, properly impressed. “That must be some quiz show, if they’re giving away a whole house.” What with property prices the way they are, winning a house is not a small deal. But I still wasn’t fully satisfied with my friend’s answers. “So… why do you want to win a car? Or a house, for that matter?”

Dooley shrugged. “I just think it would be great if you and I could have our own place, you know. Far away from certain… pets.”

And there it was. And I understood all. Lately Harriet had been throwing her weight around to some extent. Used to be she more or less accepted that as a family of felines we were all equal under the sun. As of late, though, she’d started assuming the role of leader of the pack—telling us what to do, where to go, and, even more importantly, whom to associate with. I could see how this would create the kind of environment that would cause a sensitive cat like Dooley to bridle, and to look for a route of escape.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Dooley,” I said, as gently as I knew how, “but I don’t think they allow cats to participate in game shows. Not the ones I know of, anyway.”

“They don’t?” asked Dooley, with not a little bit of disappointment. “But that’s not fair.”

“Well, seeing as there aren’t a lot of humans out there that can understand what we say, it wouldn’t make for very interesting viewing,” I explained.

This gave my friend some food for thought, and as he mulled this over, I placed my chin on my paws again, and took up my refreshing morning nap where I had left off.

After a while, though, animation returned to Dooley’s form, and he said, “So why don’t we suggest to Gran that she organize a quiz show? She could be the show host and ask all the questions, and all the candidates would be cats. I’m sure it would be a big hit.”

“I’m not so sure,” I muttered. I’d just been dreaming about a fine feline who’d been giving me a look that said she liked what she saw, and I was reluctant to throw off the blanket of sleep just to listen to my friend’s ongoing ramblings about quiz shows.

“Of course!” he said, his excitement building as he thought more about his latest brainwave. “With all the cats in the world, it would be huge. How many cats are there?”

“Not sure,” I said, yawning. “A lot, I guess.”

“Millions, maybe even billions! And since there are no other shows for cats to watch, they’d all tune into our quiz show, wouldn’t they? It would be the biggest hit in history.”

“You’re forgetting one thing, Dooley,” I said, once again being forced to play the party pooper, a role I did not enjoy, I can tell you. “Cats don’t own televisions, and they don’t always control the remote controls. In fact I’d hazard a guess that in most cases they don’t have control over what they can and cannot watch at all. The humans are the gatekeepers to whatever is on offer on the television, and humans would be bored to tears within five seconds at having to watch a bunch of caterwauling cats on display.”

“Oh,” he said. “Okay.”

And once again he fell into a deep reverie as he contemplated ways and means of dealing with this new obstacle I’d put on his path to a successful career in television.

This time it took him a little while longer to work out the details of his new proposal, but when finally he woke me again from my slumber, I could tell from the tremor in his voice and the feverish gleam in his eye that he’d manage to come up with a real gem.

“I have one word for you, Max,” he said.

“What’s that?” I asked, sighing a little, as that formidable female feline hadn’t returned in my latest dream. Instead I’d dreamt of a rabbit popping out of a hat and playing hide and seek. You’ll agree with me that rabbits aren’t as fascinating as formidable felines giving you that look. Rabbits simply don’t have that je ne sais quoi.

“The internet,” he said, thrusting out his chest with an air of accomplishment.

“That’s two words,” I pointed out.

“Oh, right,” he said, deflating only a smidgen before swelling again and practically caroling, “We’ll make it an internet quiz show. Cats can access their humans’ smartphones, can’t they? And sometimes they even have their own personal tablets they can use to watch whatever they like. So we’ll create a YouTube show with Gran as the host, and turn it into the best-watched program on the entire internet!”

I yawned. Not because his idea bored me, but because sometimes Dooley’s ramblings simply have that effect on me. “Mh,” I said noncommittally.

“Don’t you see what a great idea this is, Max?” he tooted. “Cats across the globe will tune in and all of those advertising dollars will start pouring in and soon Gran will be able to give away a house as the first prize and we’ll win it and then we’ll finally be free!”

“Mh,” I repeated. I recognize a pipe dream when I see one, and even though I didn’t want to rain on my friend’s parade—not too much, anyway—I still felt it incumbent upon me, as Dooley’s best friend, to point out another fatal flaw in his scheme. “I’m not sure advertisers are going to pay top dollar to advertise on a show aimed solely at cats,” I said. Once again it was the gatekeeper story. It’s not cats who spend the money on food and other cat paraphernalia but their owners, and since said owners wouldn’t tune into a show with a bunch of cats meowing all over the place, I didn’t see the potential, to be honest.

I explained all this to Dooley in great detail, but failed to put a dent in his excitement.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s just like with parents, you see. When they go shopping the supermarkets put the kinds of things kids love on the lower shelves so kids will see it and grab it and put it in mom and dad’s shopping cart. People will do the same with cats. When they see a commercial for a particular brand of cat food they’ll whine and beg until their humans will click and buy the stuff.” He spread his paws. “It’s a sure-fire blockbuster, Max. And all we need is Gran to say yes and we’re off and running.”

I gave him my trademark look of skepticism but this time his spirits wouldn’t be dampened even if I threw him all the skeptical looks in the universe. He was convinced he was onto something big and he was going to see it through no matter what.

“Let’s ask Gran,” I said therefore. “See what she has to say.”

“Oh, Max, thank you!” he cried, and threw his paws around my neck and moved in for a hug.

“Yeah, yeah, all right, all right,” I said. I’m not one of those cats who go in for all the hugging and other displays of affection, but I like to make an exception for Dooley because he simply is the cuddly kind of cat. And because he’s my friend, of course.

He clasped his paws together and sighed happily. “We’re going to win this quiz show and then we’re going to get a house and then we’re going to live happily ever after, Max. Just you wait and see.”

“Sure,” I said, and promptly dozed off again.

Chapter Two

“Max. Max!”

I think I could be forgiven for thinking ‘Now what?’ when this new intrusion upon my peace and quiet came upon me.

Of course I’d immediately recognized Harriet’s voice, and for a split second I wondered about Dooley’s plan to win a house so we could both get away from the slightly annoying feline. A plan borne of desperation, granted, but a plan nonetheless. But then I cast the silly notion aside and opened my eyes to address this new emergency.

“What?” I asked as I watched the prissy white Persian stalk in my general direction.

“This simply cannot go on any longer,” said Harriet with all the forcefulness of her personality.

I would have asked at this point what exactly could not go on any longer, but I had the distinct impression I would soon be placed in possession of all the facts pertaining to the case, whether I wanted to or not.

“Those mice have only just left the house or already a new plague is upon us,” she said, frowning darkly, her tail swishing annoyedly through the air. I followed it for a moment with my eyes, until I got slightly dizzy, then focused on Harriet’s clear green eyes again, something I immediately regretted when I was blasted with the full force of her irritation in a look that hit me amidships and rocked me to the core.

I swallowed a little. “What plague?” I managed to ask.

“Oh, Max,” she said, rolling her eyes and freeing me from their hypnotic influence. “Not you, too. I tell everyone who will listen and no one seems to care. I call it a sad state of affairs when the only one who cares about cleanliness and hygiene is yours truly.”

I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but I wisely refrained from voicing this thought. Instead, I asked, “Are the mice back? Is that what’s plaguing you?”

Until very recently the house had been infested with a family of no less than two hundred mice. They’d since skedaddled but clearly some new disaster had befallen us.

“Max! Will you please pay attention!” said Harriet.

Out of sheer habit, I sat upright, and would have saluted if I’d been a soldier in Harriet’s army and she the general. Instead, I blinked a couple of times, and wondered how long I’d slept that I’d completely missed this latest tragedy.

“Come,” said Harriet, so I came. “Look,” she said, so I looked.

Only where she was pointing there wasn’t all that much to see. We were in the living room, near the sliding glass door, and try as I might I couldn’t spot the harbinger of doom that apparently had infested our home and hearth. No mice, no black beetles, no cockroaches, not even a teeny tiny spider was in evidence where Harriet was glaring.

“Um… what am I looking at?” I finally asked.

“Dust!” she cried, and gave an innocent little dust bunny a nudge with her paw.

I stared at the dust bunny. The dust bunny stared back at me. Then I glanced up at Harriet, and I must have given her the wrong look, for she rolled her eyes once more.

“It’s a disgrace!” she said. “Once upon a time this house was the epitome of neatness and cleanliness and now it’s turning into a dump!”

“Hardly a dump,” I argued. After all, one dust bunny does not a dump make. Now if dust bunnies had been littering the place it would have been a different matter altogether. But before I could argue my case, Harriet was charging full steam ahead.

“Something needs to be done. This really cannot go on. What if I was allergic? I could have died!” she said, dramatically pointing at the harmless little pile of fluff with her tail.

“A little bit of dust won’t kill you, Harriet,” I said, but quickly shut up when she gave me a look that could, well, kill.

“It’s not just this pile of dust, Max,” she said. “There’s more.”

“More?” I asked, stifling a groan.

“A lot more,” she indicated, and stomped off in the direction of the couch, which is, I must confess, one of my favorite places in the entire house. “Look,” she instructed, and lifted the sheet Odelia likes to place on top of the couch to protect it from my tendency to dig my claws into its softness. And of course the shedding. Let’s not forget about the shedding. However you look at it, cats will shed, there’s simply no denying the fact.

I threw a quick glance underneath the couch in the direction Harriet was pointing, and once again I found myself stumped. “Um…” I said. “I really don’t see…”

“Oh, Max!” Harriet cried, and sighed in an exaggerated fashion, as if she were talking to a three-year-old with mental issues. And to demonstrate what I failed to grasp, she reached into the darkness with her paw and returned… with another dust bunny. “See!” she said, wagging the poor innocent bit of fluff in my face. “This place is falling apart.” She shook off the bunny with an expression of utter distaste, and then proceeded to lay it all out for me. “No cleaning is being done, or at least not in the way that it should be done. Health hazards are allowed to fester and pollute what should be a safe environment. And as a consequence death traps are allowed to spring up left, right and center.” She eyed me expectantly. “So what are you going to do about it, Max?”

I gave her a look of consternation. “Me? What do you want me to do?”

“Odelia is your human, Max. She is your responsibility. You have to tell her that this simply will not do. That her cats are in a situation of clear and present danger and measures must be taken to eradicate the menace to our health and wellbeing.”

“I really don’t think two innocent bits of dust present a danger to our health and safety,” I argued. I don’t mind talking to my human, and pointing out her responsibilities, but this was taking things too far, I felt.

“Do you know how many germs this innocent bit of dust, as you call it, harbors?” Her eyes had narrowed into tiny slits, spelling danger. “And do you know the kinds of diseases that are spread by these germs, not to mention the abundance of fungi?”

I shivered at the mention of the word fungi. I don’t mind the odd germ, but I dislike fungi with a vengeance. Probably because of a horror movie I once saw with Odelia and her boyfriend Chase. It centered around a fungoid growth crash-landing on earth as part of a meteor and proceeding to devour a small town before being stopped by a heroic brace of teenagers and their fearless dog. Why it’s always a fearless dog that accompanies teenage heroes in Hollywood movies and never a fearless cat is beyond me, but there you have it. Typical Hollywood anti-cat bias, I guess.

“Look, I’ll talk to Odelia, if that’s what you want,” I said, “but I don’t think you have to worry about the danger these dust bunnies offer. I’m sure they’re all pretty harmless.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” said Harriet decidedly. “And if you were a true leader of cats you would know this.”

I frowned. “A true what now?”

“A true leader knows when to take responsibility. He wouldn’t allow things to get as bad as this.”

“I’m not a leader of cats,” I pointed out. “I’m just me. Max. A common house cat.”

“Oh, Max,” said Harriet, shaking her head sadly. “You still don’t see it, do you?”

“Um, no,” I said. “I guess I don’t.” I wondered what she was on about this time.

“You are the cat everyone looks up to, Max, whether you like it or not.”

“No, they don’t,” I said, greatly surprised.

“Dooley looks up to you. And I know for a fact that Brutus does, too.”

I laughed what I hoped was a rollicking laugh. “Brutus, looking up to me? No way.”

“Oh, yes. In fact half the town’s cat population looks to you for leadership, Max, and frankly so do I. And all I can say is that you’ve failed us.” She nodded seriously. “You have failed us and you’ve put us all in mortal danger when you took your eye off the ball.”

I stared at the ball of fluff, and wondered if this was the ball she was referring to.

“You dropped the ball, Max, and I’m very, very disappointed in you.”

First I took my eye off the ball and then I dropped it. Or was it the other way around?

Suddenly the idea of moving into a different home, far away from Harriet and her strange theories and bossy ways sounded a lot more appealing than it had before.

Maybe I should participate in this quiz. But first I needed to find out who can run faster: a hare or a fox. Something told me it was one of those trick questions, though.

Chapter Three

“Max—Max, where are you—Max?!”

Oh, dear Lord in heaven! “What?!” I yelled from my position on the couch. Some days are like that: everyone and their grandmother seems to need to talk to you about something, and feels it incumbent upon them to disturb your peaceful slumber.

This time it was my very own human who’d come to bring me great tidings of joy—or sorrow, as the case may be.

“Hey, Max,” said Odelia, sounding and looking a little breathless. She was blushing, and looked as if she’d just run a marathon—or at least a 60-yard dash. “How are you, my precious little Maxie?” she said, and started nuzzling me in the most outrageous fashion: digging her nose into my neck and making the kind of nonsensical gibbering sounds humans usually reserve for the moment they encounter a newly born baby.

“I’m fine,” I said a little frostily. Being rudely dragged from those precious snatches of sleep will do that to a cat. This time I’d been dreaming of a nice piece of fish fillet that had my name on it.

Odelia was still fussing over me, and stroking my fur and even going so far as to tickle my fluffy cheeks, grabbing my face in both hands and rubbing me under my chin. And in spite of the fact that I’d had my imaginary fish filet rudely snatched away from me, I couldn’t resist to smile at the treatment my human was giving me, and then, of course, I was betrayed by my own body when I started purring. It’s an involuntary thing, I tell you.

“So what’s the emergency?” I asked finally, when Odelia’s fervor started dissipating.

“No emergency,” she said with a smile as she grabbed her phone from the table and made herself comfortable on the couch next to me. “Just happy to see my precious baby.”

I cleared my throat. Maybe this was the time to address the issue Harriet had brought to my attention. No time like the present, right? “There have been some complaints.”

“Oh?” she said distractedly, as she’d started reading something on her phone.

“Yeah, about cleanliness and a general lack of hygiene.”

“Mh,” she responded as she started tapping a message on her phone. Clearly I’d missed my window of opportunity and had lost her full attention.

Still I trudged on. “The thing is… Harriet feels that standards have been dropping precipitously as of late, and she doesn’t think this is necessarily a good thing.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah—it’s all the dust she seems to object to, mainly. Dust bunnies in particular. She doesn’t like them. She found one underneath this couch, and one over by the window.”

We have one of those nice hardwood floors, and with the sun bathing it in a warm glow right now, the dust bunny was clearly visible from where I was lying and looking.

Odelia didn’t even glance up, though, focused as she was on her digital gizmo.

“Odelia?” I said, gently giving her leg a tap.

“Mh…”

“So what do you think should be done about this dust bunny issue?”

“That’s great, Max,” she said, and then got up and moved away, her eyes still glued to her phone, and her fingers too, as she tapped out another message with lightning speed.

I let out a deep sigh and vowed to give it another shot at a later date. Tough to compete with a smartphone for your human’s attention, I mean to say.

But as luck would have it, just then Gran walked in, looking as spry and chipper as ever. Well, maybe not chipper. As a rule Grandma Muffin doesn’t do chipper.

“Gran,” I said, perking up. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Later,” she snapped, as she searched around for someone who wasn’t me. “Odelia,” she said as she located her granddaughter. “The neighborhood watch are organizing a meeting next week and I want you to come. Odelia, are you listening? Odelia!”

“What?” Odelia asked, looking up from her phone.

Gran had pressed her lips together and gave her granddaughter a look of reproach. “I swear to God, one of these days that thing is going to be the death of you.”

“What thing?” asked Odelia.

“So are you coming or not?”

“Coming to what?”

“See? I knew you weren’t listening. Here, let me have that.” And with these words, she unceremoniously grabbed my human’s phone and tucked it into the pocket of her green-and-purple tracksuit.

“Hey, that’s my phone!” Odelia cried, as if she’d just lost a limb or vital body part.

“I know, and now it’s mine. And if you do as I say I just might let you have it back. Now are you going to listen to me or not?”

Odelia frowned, and crossed her arms in front of her. She clearly wasn’t happy to be treated like a recalcitrant child. “I’m listening.”

“I’m organizing a meeting of the neighborhood watch next week. Big meeting. We hope to welcome plenty of new members. I want you to come. You and Chase.”

“I’m sorry, Gran,” Odelia began, shaking her head.

But Gran arched a menacing eyebrow. “No meeting, no phone,” she said.

“You can’t do that!”

“Watch me.” Then she softened. “Look, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. There’s been a spate of burglaries lately, and we need to get on top of it before it’s too late.”

“Burglaries? Have you told Uncle Alec?”

“He’s too busy buttering up Charlene Butterwick,” said Gran with a throwaway gesture of the hand. “No, it’s up to us to save this neighborhood from falling prey to this gang of burglars, and that means you, too. The neighborhood needs you, honey.”

“Okay, sure,” said Odelia with a shrug. “If you think I can help.”

“We can only pull this neighborhood away from the brink if we all work together,” said Gran, sounding so much like a motivational coach even Odelia looked impressed.

“No, of course,” she said. “Anything I can do to help.”

“That’s settled then,” said Gran, and turned to leave.

“Wait, my phone,” said Odelia.

Gran dangled the phone from her fingertips. “Are you sure you want it back? You know smartphones aren’t good for you. They’re like the crack cocaine of the digital age.”

“Please please please can I have it back?” Odelia begged, inadvertently proving her grandmother right.

The old lady sighed, then handed her granddaughter back her phone. “Sometimes I fear for your generation,” she said, then stalked off and slammed the door.

Odelia, a happy smile on her face, immediately was immersed in her phone again.

The dust bunny was swept up from the floor by the draft caused by Gran’s departure. It happily fluttered through the living room, then into the salon, and finally settled right on top of my nose. I squinted at the bunny, cross-eyed, then sneezed, dislodging it from its perch. It flittered down right next to me, and for a moment I watched it for signs of malevolence. When nothing happened, though, I slowly drifted off to sleep again, proving once and for all that dust bunnies and cats can live together in perfect harmony.

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About Nic

Nic Saint is the pen name for writing couple Nick and Nicole Saint. They’ve penned novels in the romance, cat sleuth, middle grade, suspense, comedy and cozy mystery genres. Nicole has a background in accounting and Nick in political science and before being struck by the writing bug the Saints worked odd jobs around the world (including massage therapist in Mexico, gardener in Italy, restaurant manager in India, and Berlitz teacher in Belgium).

When they’re not writing they enjoy Christmas-themed Hallmark movies (whether it’s Christmas or not), all manner of pastry, comic books, a daily dose of yoga (to limber up those limbs), and spoiling their big red tomcat Tommy.

www.nicsaint.com

Also by Nic Saint

The Mysteries of Max

Purrfect Murder

Purrfectly Deadly

Purrfect Revenge

Purrfect Heat

Purrfect Crime

Purrfect Rivalry

Purrfect Peril

Purrfect Secret

Purrfect Alibi

Purrfect Obsession

Purrfect Betrayal

Purrfectly Clueless

Purrfectly Royal

Purrfect Cut

Purrfect Trap

Purrfectly Hidden

Purrfect Kill

Purrfect Boy Toy

Purrfectly Dogged

Purrfectly Dead

Purrfect Saint

Purrfect Advice

Purrfect Cover

Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)

Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)

Box Set 3 (Books 7-9)

Box Set 4 (Books 10-12)

Box Set 5 (Books 13-15)

Box Set 6 (Books 16-18)

Box Set 7 (Books 19-21)

Box Set 8 (Books 22-24)

Purrfect Santa

Purrfectly Flealess

Nora Steel

Murder Retreat

The Kellys

Murder Motel

Death in Suburbia

Emily Stone

Murder at the Art Class

Washington & Jefferson

First Shot

Alice Whitehouse

Spooky Times

Spooky Trills

Spooky End

Spooky Spells

Ghosts of London

Between a Ghost and a Spooky Place

Public Ghost Number One

Ghost Save the Queen

Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)

A Tale of Two Harrys

Ghost of Girlband Past

Ghostlier Things

Charleneland

Deadly Ride

Final Ride

Neighborhood Witch Committee

Witchy Start

Witchy Worries

Witchy Wishes

Saffron Diffley

Crime and Retribution

Vice and Verdict

Felonies and Penalties (Saffron Diffley Short 1)

The B-Team

Once Upon a Spy

Tate-à-Tate

Enemy of the Tates

Ghosts vs. Spies

The Ghost Who Came in from the Cold

Witchy Fingers

Witchy Trouble

Witchy Hexations

Witchy Possessions

Witchy Riches

Box Set 1 (Books 1-4)

The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse

One Spoonful of Trouble

Two Scoops of Murder

Three Shots of Disaster

Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)

A Twist of Wraith

A Touch of Ghost

A Clash of Spooks

Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)

The Stuffing of Nightmares

A Breath of Dead Air

An Act of Hodd

Box Set 3 (Books 7-9)

A Game of Dons

Standalone Novels

When in Bruges

The Whiskered Spy

ThrillFix

Homejacking

The Eighth Billionaire

The Wrong Woman

Copyright © 2020 by Nic Saint. All rights reserved.

Published by Puss in Print Publications.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Editor: Chereese Graves.

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