Dooley freaked out, and so did I, and Harriet merely said, “See? I told you this would happen,” which of course she hadn’t, but then Harriet just likes to say ‘I told you so’ at every possible occasion because she’s just that kind of cat.

  And all of a sudden I remembered the date Shanille had set with us to start preparing for the wedding, and we’d totally blown her off!

  Now Shanille is not the kind of cat you blow off. For one thing, as cat choir’s conductor she has the power to kick cats out of her choir, which she has done on more than one occasion, one of those occasions being me, kicked out for singing out of tune!

  So that’s why you now find us hurrying along in the direction of St. John’s Church, where Shanille likes to hang out when she’s not in the park for cat choir rehearsals.

  We slammed into the church and glanced around the cavernous and half-dark space, hoping to find Shanille still there, patiently waiting for the three of us—well, the four of us, but it was obvious Brutus wouldn’t be keeping his appointment, since he’d disappeared with his pet turtle.

  “Shanille?” I said cautiously, my voice echoing through the large space. “Shanille, are you here?”

  We trod along the nave to the front of the church, took a left at the altar to where the baptismal font is located, and beyond that to the inner sanctum, where Father Reilly has his office, and where he likes to mentally prepare before Mass, or take the occasional sip of altar wine to screw up his courage before addressing his flock.

  “You’ve really gone and done it this time, Max,” Harriet hissed.” You pissed off Shanille, and probably got us all kicked out of cat choir. Thank you very much. And just when things were going so well with my solos!”

  “We’ve got a great excuse,” I reminded her. “Trying to save a man who’s about to die is probably the best excuse for missing an appointment, and I’m sure Shanille will agree.”

  “What would I agree with, Max?” asked a cold voice speaking to my rear. I whirled around, and found myself face to face with cat choir’s conductor.

  “Oh, hi, Shanille,” I said, plastering a pleasant smile onto my face, even though I wasn’t really feeling it. “Um, I’m sorry we’re late, but—”

  “Late is when you arrive five minutes past the agreed-upon time, Max,” she said, still proceeding frostily. “You’re exactly four hours late. That simply tells me you don’t care about my time. It’s a kick in the teeth—a knock on the head—a slap in the face!”

  “But—”

  “I’m disappointed in you, Max. Very disappointed!”

  “We were out helping Odelia,” said Harriet. “She’s on a very important case and—”

  “Oh? So you’re saying my time isn’t important? Is that it?”

  “No, of course it is, but a man is about to die, Shanille,” said Harriet, now also adopting a markedly chilly tone. “And tell me I’m wrong but if a life or death situation crops up I think this wedding prep stuff of yours takes a backseat wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Life or death situation? What are you talking about?”

  “Randy Hancock,” I said. “He only has three more days to live.”

  “Two and a half,” Dooley said blithely.

  “And we’re trying to figure out who wants to kill him and get him the antidote he needs.”

  “Antidote? This sounds like one of those silly Hollywood blockbusters, Max. Are you sure you’re not making this up as you go along?”

  “No, I’m not! Randy is staying at our place, and he is going to die unless we save him.”

  “Mh,” said Shanille doubtfully. She clearly wasn’t believing a word I said. “Okay, fine. So do you want to prepare for the wedding ceremony or not?”

  “I do,” said Dooley, a little shakily.

  “Though what we’d much rather do is stop that wedding,” said Harriet. “Wilbur obviously isn’t the right person for Gran, and our focus should be on stopping the wedding.”

  “We have a lot of weddings to stop,” said Dooley. “There’s Marge and Randy’s wedding, and now Gran and Wilbur’s wedding. And meanwhile Brutus is still missing.” He hung his head. “It’s all getting a little bit much, don’t you think, you guys?”

  “It’s all right, Dooley,” said Shanille, patting my friend on the head. “Weddings are joyful occasions. They shouldn’t be stopped but encouraged and celebrated. Now let’s practice, shall we? You’re going to be the first flower cat, of course, since the bride is your human, and I was thinking Harriet and Brutus could go next. As for you, Max,” she said, eyeing me critically, “I was actually thinking that you better sit this one out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We want people to enjoy the wedding. It should be a feast for the eyes and a pleasure for the soul. Dooley is simply adorable, and Harriet and Brutus are both gorgeous specimens. But as far as you’re concerned…” She tsk-tsked lightly. “Let’s just say you wouldn’t win any prizes at a cat show, Max.”

  “But… why?”

  She shrugged. “You’re what us professional wedding planners call too chunky for your own good. And chunky, even though it may have been fashionable in the seventies, along with weird facial hair, is out. And so are you, I’m afraid. Out of the picture.”

  “But…”

  “Stay out of sight would be my advice. Maybe don’t even bother to show up.”

  She turned to my friends, and her smile returned. “Now for you, Dooley, I was thinking daffodils. Maybe a lace bodice? And Harriet, how does the word ‘tiara’ sound?”

  And as the wedding preparations continued, I decided to follow Shanille’s advice and take a backseat. In fact I decided not to attend the wedding prep at all, and slouched out of the church. She was right. Nobody likes to see a chunky cat when they’re attending a wedding. People expect beauty and grace, not a flabby tabby waddling along.

  I sighed deeply when I exited the church. The only consolation was that Kingman, too, would probably get vetoed by Shanille for being too fat. In fact Wilbur’s cat is even more voluminous than me.

  And as my eyes adjusted to the brightness of the day, I suddenly thought I saw two familiar figures driving past the church.

  They were Johnny Carew and Jerry Vale. The career criminals were driving a van with a decal that read, ‘Pete’s Pet Paradise. We have a heart for pets.’

  30

  Randy Hancock was strolling through town, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling little town. He liked Hampton Cove, and was glad even after all these years that he’d left the big city and had moved there. It wasn’t exactly where the action was, but people were friendly and life was lived at a slower pace, which suited him just fine, after having lived life in the fast lane for far too many years.

  He was dressed in a dark wig, and makeup, and a pink pantsuit, and even though people gave him the occasional curious glance, he was satisfied that no one recognized him and that’s what mattered.

  He’d perfected this look over the years, dodging paps and his most fanatic fans, and had never been recognized before and didn’t expect to be recognized now.

  He was glad he’d had the idea to knock on Odelia’s door and ask her to take on his case. It gave him some respite from his hectic life, which had become even more hectic of late. And poking his nose into the lives of the Poole family certainly agreed with him.

  Maybe he should have become a family therapist instead of a fitness instructor!

  He passed by a pet shop and glanced in the window, admiring the large fish tank on display there, the colorful fishes flitting around and strutting their stuff for all to see. He smiled, and for the first time in months felt that maybe, just maybe, his future was safe.

  Vesta and Scarlett had a plan: Scarlett would distract Wilbur, while Vesta talked to the guy’s cat, and ask Kingman if he’d seen Brutus around. The last thing she expected, though, was for Wilbur to get up from behind his checkout counter, walk over to where she was standing on the sidewalk, and turn a teary face to her and say, “Vesta, I’m so so sorry about last night. I behaved appallingly. Like a real jackass!”

  “Yeah, you did,” she said crustily, glancing down at Kingman and trying to signal to the fat cat not to move an inch from where he was lying for she wanted a word with him.

  Kingman nodded lazily, indicating he wouldn’t be dislodged from his position come hell or high water.

  “I don’t know what came over me,” said the shopkeeper. “I guess I was nervous about our date, and so I started acting out. It’s the only way I can explain what happened.”

  “You don’t have to apologize, Wilbur,” said Vesta. “You were simply being yourself.”

  “No, I wasn’t! I can be nice, and well-behaved. And I can show you a good time.”

  “You tried to fondle me, and kiss me.”

  “I was nervous, all right! You’re an impressive woman, Vesta, and I guess I felt intimidated!”

  “Yeah, right,” she grunted. “So intimidated you couldn’t stop checking out every single woman who walked past?”

  “I didn’t check them out—I was simply too nervous to look at you!”

  “Look, I don’t want to talk about it. But Scarlett has something she needs to ask.”

  “Can I at least hug you? Just hug it out? To show me there’s no hard feelings.”

  And before she could refuse, he’d already grabbed her in an iron grip and was squeezing her like he liked to squeeze one of his tomatoes before putting them on sale.

  “All right, fine!” she said once she managed to get out of his grip. “You’re forgiven. Now will you listen to what Scarlett has to tell you?”

  “I’m still in the watch, though, right?”

  “I’ll think about it,” she said grudgingly.

  “I love the watch, Vesta. I think it’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Keeping people safe. Making sure the criminal element is rooted out permanently.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said.

  Finally the shop owner returned behind his counter, and Scarlett formulated her question, which concerned the design of a website for the watch, since Wilbur had set up a website for his store a couple of years ago. It was a bogus question, as Vesta had no intention of setting up a website for the watch at all. But it gave her an opportunity to talk to Kingman. So while she pretended to look at the magazine stand, she whispered, “Kingman!”

  “Yah!” Kingman whispered back with a conspiratorial grin on his face.

  “Have you seen Brutus? He’s gone missing!”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  Kingman studied her for a moment, then shook his head. “I can never tell with you humans.”

  “I’m not joking, okay! He’s disappeared.”

  “Can’t help you, I’m afraid,” said Kingman. “I haven’t seen him, and he hasn’t told me he was going someplace either. Though he did mention something about freeing turtles last night during cat choir. He was standing next to me—us both being in the baritone section and all—and he seemed really into this whole turtle theme.”

  “Turtles?”

  “Yah. I’m afraid I didn’t pay a lot of attention. Not being into turtles myself.”

  “Who is?” said Vesta, thinking hard. She’d taken Brutus to the beach yesterday—him and his turtle, which was weird enough. “So where did he say these turtles were?”

  “At the pond,” said Kingman. “Don’t ask me what pond, though.”

  “There’s only one pond in town.”

  “At the park,” Kingman said with a nod. “But as far as I know there’s no turtles in that pond, only ducks.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Vesta. Mysteriouser and mysteriouser.

  “Vesta! Wilbur wants to know about the color scheme for the website!” Scarlett yelled.

  “Gotta go,” Vesta whispered. “If you hear anything…”

  “I’ll tell your cats,” Kingman assured her with a wink. “Though if you ask me, this turtle business is just a ruse. I’ll bet Brutus has gone off on a toot. Celebrate the wedding.”

  “What wedding?”

  “You and Wilbur, of course! Congrats, by the way. And welcome to your new home.”

  “Ugh,” said Vesta, and got up. Cats. They were worse at spreading gossip than a bunch of old ladies at the hairdresser.

  31

  Odelia stood staring out the kitchen window in her parents’ house. She had a lot on her mind. First there was the fact that Randy Hancock only had two and a half more days to live, and that the people responsible hadn’t been in touch since sending in their demand for ten million dollars, which according to her investigations the man simply didn’t have. And then there was the fact that her own mother was having an affair with Randy, even though the man’s sexual inclination apparently didn’t lean to the fairer sex.

  On top of that Brutus had gone missing, and Gran was dating what was without a doubt the most ineligible bachelor in all of Hampton Cove. What was she even thinking!

  Behind her, Mom entered the kitchen. “Hey, honey. You look pensive. Everything all right?”

  “Mom, we need to talk,” she said, and took a seat at the table. “Look, I know it’s probably none of my business, but Chase saw you and Randy last night. You were on his bed and he was naked and… well, we’re both grown-ups so we don’t need to go into any graphic details. All I want to say is that I hope this is just a fling, because I think Dad is one of the most wonderful husbands and fathers any woman could ever hope to—”

  “Let me stop you right there,” said Mom, holding up a hand. She looked incredulous. “Are you seriously suggesting I’m having an affair with Randy Hancock?”

  “Well, Chase saw you, so…” She frowned. “You mean you’re not having an affair?”

  “Of course not! All I did was confide in Randy about certain… stuff, and he was so kind to offer me advice and a much-appreciated hug.”

  “But…”

  “Look, honey. I know how blessed I am with your father, but sometimes even the best husband in the world can suddenly seem like… not enough.” She sighed and fiddled with the salt shaker. “The thing is, with all that’s been going on—your upcoming wedding, and my brother and Charlene getting together, and Ma dating Wilbur—I just feel very keenly how little romance there is in my own life. How the fire has gone out of my relationship with your dad. And it’s made me feel sad, and a little lonely, and… well, Randy suddenly showing up here, and being so nice to me… It just made me think, you know.”

  “Mom, you do want an affair with Randy, don’t you?”

  “So what if I do? He’s a very handsome man, and very virile, and ever so sweet.”

  “You do know that Randy is, um, batting for the other team, don’t you?”

  Mom frowned. “What are you talking about? Randy is most certainly not gay. If he were I would have noticed a long time ago.”

  “I talked to his manager today, and his accountant, and his housekeeper, and a bunch of other people who’ve known him for years, and they all told me the same thing: Randy is as gay as they come, and his favorite thing in the world is to engage in flings with young men ranging from pool boys to gardeners to masseurs to cleaners to plumbers…”

  Her mother looked startled by this. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, dear.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to give Dad another chance, Mom? You’re not seriously thinking about leaving him, are you?” The last thing she wanted was for her parents to split up. She really couldn’t imagine a thing like that. Though judging from the expression on her mother’s face it was exactly what she was contemplating.

  “I honestly don’t know, honey,” said Mom. “It’s just that being around Randy has made me reevaluate my whole life, and now I simply don’t know what to do.”

  “Oh, Mom…” She drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “Look, if you like Randy so much, and obviously he likes you, maybe you can do me a favor.”

  “What is it?”

  “Dan suggested I talk to Randy about what’s going on with him—with the poisoning and all. He suggests Randy probably knows more than he realizes. And if only I can get him to open up…”

  Mom smiled. “You want me to talk to him, is that it? Make him open up to me?”

  “You two seem very close.”

  “There is a real bond between us,” Marge said. “A romantic bond, I thought, but obviously that isn’t the case.” She made a decision. “I’ll invite him over for dinner.”

  “Maybe better do it at my place. Dad won’t like it when you and Randy have a cozy tête-à-tête in his own home.”

  “Good idea,” said Marge. “So maybe you and Chase can conveniently get out of the house tonight, so it will just be me and Randy. A candlelight dinner will probably do the trick.”

  Her mother seemed excited about the idea. A little bit too excited, Odelia thought. But if what his associates said about Randy was true, there was no danger of a romantic entanglement whatsoever. And if Mom could get Randy to open up, maybe they could finally get at the heart of what was going on.

  Deep down, he probably knew exactly who was targeting him and why. They just needed to give him a gentle nudge in the right direction, and if anyone could provide that nudge, it was Mom—with the sweet way she had about her and her kind demeanor.

  She got up. “Have you heard from Gran? Is she going to keep dating Wilbur?”

  “Oh, I certainly hope not,” said her mom immediately. “That man is the worst possible candidate for your grandmother.”

  “Dooley is very worried. He thinks they’re going to get married and that he’ll have to go live with Wilbur from now on.”

  “Yes, Tex is salivating at the thought of Ma striking out on her own. He’s also giving serious thought about replacing your grandmother as his receptionist. And I can’t blame him. She’s hardly ever there.”