Vesta frowned and caressed Harriet’s fur. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Father Reilly told me you and Wilbur are about to tie the knot. Even though you’ve been stubbornly denying the news. So let me be the first one to congratulate you.”

  “I’m not getting married!”

  Vena cocked an eyebrow. “See? Stubborn, just like you, sweet Harriet.”

  “Oh, for God’s sakes,” said Vesta, and gathered up her cat, her prescription, and stalked out.

  Marge cursed under her breath when her phone chimed. She’d totally forgotten to switch it off. “I’m so sorry,” she said as she fumbled for the device.

  “That’s all right,” said Randy. “It’s probably your husband.”

  She picked up and said, “Tex, where are you?”

  “Marge? Marge Poole? It’s Johnny. I think I’ve got one of your cats here. A black one?”

  She placed a hand on her phone then said, “It’s about Brutus. Someone seems to have found him.”

  “Oh, great,” said Randy, though he didn’t seem all that excited by this development.

  “Hi, Johnny,” she said, well pleased. “Yes, this is Marge. Where did you find Brutus?”

  “He managed to sneak into the basement. If you want I can come over and drop him off.”

  “No, that’s all right. I’ll come and get him. Where are you?”

  He gave her the address and she hung up after assuring him she’d be there in five minutes. But that was before she realized Odelia had gone out with Chase, taking her car, Vesta had gone out taking her car, and Tex had just left, presumably taking his car.

  “Do you have transport by any chance?” she asked. “I need to go and pick up my cat. I’m so sorry for cutting our dinner short.” In fact she wasn’t all that sorry. Randy had been asking a lot of personal questions and she still hadn’t discovered anything of note about the man himself. Almost as if he didn’t want to talk about his personal life. On top of that she was worried about Tex, which put a damper on their nice dinner.

  “Oh, sure, I’ll drive you,” said Randy. “Where is it?”

  “Pete’s Pet Paradise,” she said. “Apparently Brutus slipped in through the basement window and now he can’t get out.”

  She thought she saw a strange gleam come into the man’s eyes, but then it was gone. He offered her one of his trademark warm smiles. “So what are we waiting for? Let’s go and get your cat!”

  Moments later they were cruising along the street, on their way to the pet store. Randy had once again donned a convincing disguise: this time he was wearing sunglasses and a ball cap.

  “You look virtually unrecognizable,” said Marge admiringly.

  “Years of experience evading the paps,” said Randy.

  He parked across the street from the pet store, and she got out, followed by Randy.

  “Oh, you don’t have to come,” she said. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

  “No, it’s fine,” he assured her. “We are still on our date, aren’t we? So let’s pretend this is all part of the lovely evening you had in store for me.”

  “An evening at the pet shop,” she said with a smile, and they both crossed the street at a little trot, avoiding incoming traffic.

  The door to the pet store was open, so she pushed her way inside. The first part of the store consisted of plenty of fish tanks, just like the big one in the front window, and as they headed deeper, in search of Johnny Carew, Marge saw plenty of rabbits, gerbils, birds and even a snake slithering about in its cage.

  She’d never actually set foot in there since the shop had changed owners. She hadn’t even been aware that it had reopened, nor that Johnny was now working there.

  “Johnny?” she called out when she didn’t see any sign of life apart from the many pets. “Johnny, where are you?”

  “Down here, Marge!” Johnny’s voice rang out.

  She glanced back at Randy and gave him an apologetic smile. They set foot for the staircase that led into what looked like the basement, and she called down, “Johnny?”

  “Yeah, just on come down, Marge. I’ve got your cat right here.”

  She hurried down the stairs, eager to see her sweet fur baby again, and was surprised when not Johnny greeted her but Jerry, along with five giant tanks filled with water and… turtles. There must have been thousands of them.

  “Hi, Jerry,” she said. “Where’s Johnny?”

  “I’m right here, Marge,” said Johnny as he ducked up to her right, holding Brutus in his arms. “Look who’s here, kitty,” he said with a purr in his voice. “It’s your mama. Yeah, that’s right. Mama is here to come and get you, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, Brutus,” said Marge, relief flooding through her. “Did you get stuck, sweetie?”

  She moved to take Brutus from Johnny, but suddenly Jerry growled, “Not so fast.”

  And when she glanced at the ferret-faced ex-con, she saw he was holding a gun, and pointing it straight at her!

  38

  Dooley and I had arrived at the park and found ourselves looking out across the duck pond. As far as I could tell there was no sign of Brutus… or turtles, big or small.

  “I don’t see any turtles, Max,” said Dooley, who’d noticed the same unmistakable absence of turtles. “Unless they’re very, very small, and they’re hiding in the water, in which case we can’t see them.”

  “So let’s ask one of the ducks, shall we?” I suggested, and proceeded to address a nearby duck.

  “Mr. Duck!” I said. “Any turtles around these parts that you know of, sir?”

  “Or cats?” Dooley added.

  The duck stared at us. “You have got to be kidding, right?”

  “No, I can assure you that I am not kidding,” I said.

  “Me neither,” said Dooley.

  “This is a duck pond, cat,” said the duck. “No cats allowed.”

  “I can see that,” I said. “And a very nice duck pond it is. So how about turtles?”

  “Now why would you think that a duck pond would contain turtles?” asked the duck, who clearly wasn’t the avuncular type of duck.

  “A friend of ours recently met a turtle,” I said, deciding to reveal all and leave nothing out. “And this turtle said she’d escaped from a pond where plenty of other turtles were also kept prisoner.”

  The duck smiled, as far as a duck can smile. It’s a tough proposition since beaks are not all that conducive to displaying facial expressions. “Do you see any armed guards, cat?”

  I looked around. “Um, no.”

  “Any fencing? Preventing a stray turtle from escaping this apparent hellhole?”

  “No, no fencing,” I said, starting to see what the duck was getting at. “So I assume there are no turtles being kept in this pond against their will?”

  “You assume right, cat. There are no turtles in this pond, and even if there were, they would be free to leave, and I’d encourage them to do so at their earliest convenience.”

  “Weird,” said Dooley as we walked on. “So no turtles and no Brutus. So where could he have found a second pond in Hampton Cove?”

  “I don’t know about a pond, Dooley,” I said, suddenly remembering something, “but I know exactly where we can find turtles. And plenty of them, too.”

  Now I know that we as a society should give the criminal element every chance to rehabilitate, but sometimes it is simply not feasible for these hardened folk to do that. Take Johnny Carew and Jerry Vale for instance. They keep getting caught for various crimes committed, and they keep promising the judge that they will change their ways and be good and law-abiding citizens from now on. Only to turn around and once more embrace a life of crime the moment they’ve changed their prison attire for their civvies.

  I’m not saying it wasn’t possible for Johnny and Jerry to have opened a pet shop, but I’m saying the odds against such a contingency were staggering. And what pet shop sells thousands of turtles? There simply isn’t a market for a mass offering of the short and stubby species, am I right?

  “I think I know where Brutus went off to,” I said therefore.

  “To stop another wedding?” Dooley suggested.

  “To try and be a hero to turtles.” Brutus had presumably decided to become the Nelson Mandela of turtle liberators, and had gotten himself in trouble as a consequence.

  “You know, I was thinking that to stop Marge and Randy’s wedding all we have to do is paint Randy in an unfavorable light,” said Dooley as we hurried out of the park and in the direction of the pet shop I’d seen. “So all we need to do is ask ourselves what Marge doesn’t like in a man.” He glanced at me. “What doesn’t Marge like in a man, Max?”

  “Um… she doesn’t like it when a man makes noises when he eats,” I said as a for instance. On more than one occasion I’d seen her give Tex a dirty look when the latter slurped his soup. “Or doesn’t pick up his laundry from the bathroom floor. Or leaves the toilet seat up. Or forgets to put out the garbage. Or forgets her birthday, or wedding anniversary.”

  “That’s a lot of stuff. I think we can work with that,” said my friend. “So tomorrow we make sure the toilet seat is always up when Randy has visited the bathroom, that his clothes are left all over the bathroom floor after he’s taken a shower, and, um… I’m not so sure about the slurping sounds, Max. Though we could make slurping sounds and hopefully Marge will think it’s Randy making them. What do you say?”

  “Look, Dooley—all these things are minor points of irritation. If Marge really loves Randy Hancock, no amount of dirty laundry on the floor or soup slurping will make her change her mind if she wants to marry the guy. But as we all know by now Randy is gay, so Marge can pursue the man as much as she likes, it won’t make much of a difference.”

  “But… I’m gay, too, Max.”

  I glanced at my buddy, wondering what he was going on about.

  “In fact I think of the four of us I’m probably the gayest. But that would never stop me from marrying Marge—if I were a human or if Marge were a cat.”

  “I…” Didn’t know what to say to that. “So you’re… gay, Dooley?”

  “Oh, sure. You’re gay, too, Max, but not as gay as me. Harriet is not gay at all and Brutus is too serious to be gay. Though if he loosened up he’d probably be gay, too.”

  I smiled. “I think you’re confused about the meaning of the word gay.” And I was about to explain to my friend that he might indeed be gay—except when he thought the sky was about to cave in and fall on his head—but he wasn’t… gay, when three dogs suddenly blocked our passage. They were, reading from left to right: Fifi, Rufus and Lil Ran.

  “Oh, hiya fellas,” said Dooley. “Max and I were just discussing which one of us is the gayest, him or me. I think I’m more gay. What do you think?”

  “Um…” said Fifi, eyeing my friend a little strangely.

  “Max, we’ve been waiting for you for ages, buddy,” said Rufus, “and then we decided we couldn’t wait any more, so here we are. Now please tell us how to proceed in catching the people trying to kill Lil Ran’s human.”

  “Yeah, your humans haven’t gotten any closer to the killers, so I’ve decided to take matters into my own paws and find them myself,” said Lil Ran. He gave me a sad smile. “It’s the least I can do for him.”

  “Well, as a matter of fact we were just on our way to find Brutus,” I said. “So maybe you can join us and I can try to think of a way to help Randy, Lil Ran. How about that?”

  “That sounds great, Max,” said Lil Ran. “Thanks.”

  “Where is Brutus?” asked Fifi.

  “I’m pretty sure he managed to get himself into trouble trying to free a colony of turtles from a pet store run by two crooks,” I said.

  “And while we’re on the subject,” said Dooley, “maybe you can tell us how to stop Marge’s wedding to your human, Lil Ran. Now that you’ve had time to think about it, maybe you’ve come up with a couple of ideas? We were thinking of throwing his dirty laundry on the floor and leave the toilet seat up, but Max isn’t convinced that will be enough. So what do you think?”

  And as Dooley explained his ideas on how to stop this wedding, we’d arrived on the street where Pete’s Pet Paradise was located. And even as we drew nearer, I saw Marge and Randy cross the street and moments later disappear inside the store.

  39

  “Jerry! What’s going on? Why the gun?”

  “I’m sorry, Marge,” said Jerry. “But I’m afraid you’ve seen too much.”

  “Too much?” asked Marge. “What are you talking about?” Then her eyes darted to the five tanks filled with turtles and understanding dawned. “Oh, Jerry. You haven’t gone down the path of crime again, have you? I thought you and Johnny had found religion?”

  “Oh, please,” said Jerry, appropriately raising his eyes heavenward. “They kicked us out after our first month.”

  “We hadn’t managed to convert enough people,” said Johnny sadly. “They have a system of monthly targets, and we hadn’t managed to reach our targets for the month.”

  “How many people did you convert?”

  “None. Which wasn’t enough.”

  “But… what’s with the turtles? Are you going to turn them into turtle soup or what?”

  “Not exactly,” said Jerry, and cut a short glance to Randy, who still hadn’t said a word.

  “Randy, say something,” said Marge. “Don’t just stand there. Speak up. Make them see the error of their ways.”

  “I’m sorry, Marge,” said the famous fitness coach. “But I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “What?” She turned to the man. “What are you talking about?”

  “Johnny and Jerry… well, they work for me, you see.” He sighed. “Jerry, put down that gun, will you? You’re making me nervous.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Marge.

  “Look, it’s like this—I’m broke, all right?”

  “Yeah, I think we established that over dinner.”

  “Did you have dinner with the boss, Marge?” asked Johnny, shooting her a radiant smile. “Gee, that’s sweet. So did you and Tex split up?”

  “No, we didn’t split up,” said Marge. “And don’t squeeze my cat like that. He doesn’t like it when you hold him too tight.”

  “Sure thing, Marge,” said Johnny, and let go of Brutus, who immediately skedaddled.

  “You really shouldn’t talk to Marge, boss,” said Jerry. “Her daughter is a detective, and her brother is a cop, and so is her daughter’s fiancé.”

  “Shut up, Jerry,” said Randy.

  “Yes, boss,” said Jerry meekly.

  “So is there money in turtles?” asked Marge, still mystified.

  “Lots and lots of money,” said Randy. “These aren’t your regular turtles, Marge. These are exotic turtles that we managed to smuggle into the country from India. See, there are laws against importing exotic animals, and when you can circumvent those laws, the sky is pretty much the limit, as there are always people who will want to pay outrageous sums for those animals. This is just the first step in a bigger plan to supply the connoisseur of the rare and the exotic with all the species they need.”

  “But… turtles, Randy? Really?”

  “I’m telling you, Marge—these five tanks contain a fortune. Millions!”

  She cast an eye over the tanks and the turtles contained therein.

  Her face must have betrayed her skepticism, for Randy took his phone from his pocket and showed it to her. “Look, this is one bid for one single turtle.”

  She looked, and when she saw the price her eyes widened considerably. “Oh, my.”

  “Yeah. Big business.”

  “But what about your career, Randy? You’re a hero to so many people. People like me.”

  “Fat lot of good that’s doing me now,” he scoffed. “My career is over, Marge. I can’t give classes, I can’t tape any new videos, I can’t do nothing. In this game you’re only as good as your last video, and at my age, and with my wonky hips and my busted pelvis, I’ll never shoot another video ever again—or teach a class.”

  “So… are you doing all this to pay the people trying to kill you?” she asked.

  Jerry frowned. “Is someone trying to kill you, boss? Cause if they are, just tell us and we’ll—”

  “Shut up, Jerry.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Johnny giggled, and Jerry said, “Shut up, Johnny.”

  “Yes, Jerry.”

  “Look, I’ve got a confession to make, Marge,” said Randy, dragging a hand through his trademark curly hair. “There never was a threat. There never was a demand for ten million dollars. I made that all up.”

  She stared at the man. “But… the video!”

  “Yeah, I shot that video myself. Or at least I asked Floralba to shoot it.”

  “But I saw them inject you with the toxin.”

  “Toxin, boss!” said Jerry.

  “Shut up, Jerry. Just an innocent saline solution. Look, I’m not proud of what I did, but I needed to get away for a while. Lay low. There’s people out to get me, all right, but not anonymous poisoners. Loan sharks, and drug dealers, and other people I owe a lot of money to. And since I’m famous I can’t go anywhere without being recognized.”

  “You could have escaped to Mexico, boss,” said Jerry.

  “Sure, if I had the money,” said Randy. “But I’m broke. I spent my last dime setting up this turtle farm, but it takes time for these fellas to grow so I can sell them. So I needed to lay low for a little while. And that’s when I saw that interview with Odelia.”

  “And so you decided to use my daughter to hide from your creditors? Is that it?” Marge was starting to see the whole picture, and it wasn’t pretty. “Oh, Randy. That wasn’t a very nice thing to do.”

  “I know, all right? But I had no other choice. I just figured—small-town amateur sleuth—nice ordinary family—I’ll hide away there for a couple of weeks—”

  “Weeks! You said days!”

  “I was going to send myself another video when the deadline was up, extending it.” He shrugged. “Buy myself some time.”