It was none other than Mick Harper and his attractive influencer girlfriend Smilla!

  CHAPTER 34

  “Is Mick also going to the island, do you think, Max?” asked Dooley. “Is he going to look for the treasure, just like us?”

  “I don’t know, Dooley,” I confessed.

  “I doubt that,” said Brutus. “Mick doesn’t know about the treasure, does he? And also, he’s Hampton Cove’s new detective now, so he doesn’t have time to go look for some treasure. He needs to keep us all safe by catching the bad guys!”

  “Or maybe he’s going on a trip with his new girlfriend,” said Harriet. “She looks like the kind of person who likes to prance around on fancy yachts and take plenty of pictures and videos for her Instagram and her TikTok.”

  They were both right, so I figured it was probably a fluke that Mick had arrived at the marina at the exact time we all had.

  At any rate, it looked like Charlene’s new marina was definitely a big success, if even at night people were using it to take out their big boats.

  “We better get back to the others,” I said. “We don’t want them to leave without us, do we?”

  And so we hurried back to where our humans had been patiently waiting for Rees to arrive—our boatman, on whom the success of our mission depended.

  As we made our way down the wooden pier, it became clear Gran wasn’t the only one with that idea. None other than Anthemia Eiderduck was clambering into a small dinghy, a bulky duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She looked ready for a camping expedition—hiking pants, a fleece jacket, and a waterproof coat layered on top. She even wore a hat and had sunglasses balanced on the tip of her nose, despite it being the middle of the night.

  We watched as she fired up the engine, and moments later, she was puttering off into the darkness.

  “This place is so busy at night,” I remarked to my friends, but since we were in a hurry, we decided not to linger. Anthemia had every right to take a trip, especially after the terrible ordeal she had been through.

  By the time we finally got back to rejoin the human contingent, we discovered that Father Reilly’s former sexton had stayed true to his word: the man had arrived, and he had brought along his boat.

  “Is that it?” asked Harriet with a look of disappointment on her face. “That’s not a boat. That’s a dinghy.”

  She wasn’t far from the truth. The boat that Father Reilly’s former sexton had brought along was indeed rather on the small side—especially when compared to the yachts we had seen so far. As far as I could tell it was a fishing boat and a pretty basic one at that.

  I guess subconsciously we had conditioned ourselves to traveling in similarly luxurious circumstances. But alas, it was not to be.

  “All aboard!” Gran yelled, just to make sure that we didn’t get left behind.

  She and the other members of the Neighborhood Watch had already brought all the camping gear on board, so all that was left was for the seven of us to join the crew.

  “Once we find the treasure, we’ll buy the biggest yacht we can find,” Brutus promised. “And then we can travel in style.”

  “I hope so,” said Harriet, grumbling a little. “This is no way for a diva of my caliber to travel. Has Celine Dion ever traveled on a dinghy like this? Or Mariah Carey? Or Beyoncé? I don’t think so!”

  “It’s just for the time being,” Brutus said. “Until we find the treasure and our family is rich beyond compare.”

  As we crossed the short gangplank and stepped on board the vessel, I had a bad feeling. Like a premonition that this might not be the kind of trip that would end well.

  And just as Rees was casting off the ropes that held us tethered to the cleats, a woman of rather voluminous proportions came hurrying up to us. She was huffing and puffing and was obviously in quite a hurry.

  “Hello!” she yelled from fifty yards away. “Hello there! Wait for me!”

  It was Ida Baumgartner, and since she was clutching a small suitcase in one hand and a bulky purse in the other, it was clear that she was eager to partake in our expedition.

  “Ida?” asked Gran, her voice betraying her bewilderment. “What are you doing here?”

  As Ida finally arrived on shore, she stood catching her breath for a few moments, then said, “I told you I wanted to join you. Did you forget?”

  The look on Gran’s face told us that she hadn’t forgotten—she had simply hoped that Ida would forget. “Of course I didn’t forget. I just figured you were kidding when you said you wanted to go treasure hunting with us.”

  Ida gave Gran a look of indignation. “I have spent my life giving dogs a new home. There is nothing more important to me than making sure that all the dogs in Hampton Cove live a long and happy life in comfort. And this treasure will go a long way toward accomplishing that dream. So of course I wasn’t kidding! This is my destiny!”

  And with those words, she pushed her way across the gangplank to join us on board.

  “Did you invite her?” Scarlett whispered.

  “Of course I didn’t invite her,” Gran whispered back. “She invited herself!”

  “When are we leaving?” asked Ida as she installed herself on the bow of the vessel. Or it could have been the stern. My ship’s vernacular was a little rusty, as it had been a while since I’d been aboard one of these floating coffins.

  “Looks like the gang’s all here,” said Clarice with satisfaction.

  “Not all of them,” said Shanille. “Ida has a dog, doesn’t she? So where is he—or she?”

  Just then, a tiny little head came peeking out of the bulky purse Ida had been carrying along with her suitcase. The dog produced a single bark, but that was enough to attract the attention of everyone on board.

  “Ooh, will you look at that little cutie pie!” Scarlett said, making cooing noises.

  “What a lovely little thing,” said Gran.

  “I adore tiny dogs like that,” said Father Reilly. “Sometimes I even wonder if I shouldn’t have gotten a dog instead of Shanille.”

  “She’s the apple of my eye,” Ida assured her.

  “What’s her name?” asked Scarlett as she tickled the doggie’s head.

  “Minnie Mouse,” said Ida. “And I love her so much that it should probably be a crime. She comes with me wherever I go—so also on this trip.”

  “Of course she’s coming along,” said Scarlett. “Everyone knows that dogs are the best treasure hunters. They can smell their way to the treasure. She’ll be worth her weight in gold.”

  “Not a lot of weight,” Gran muttered. Clearly, she wasn’t as enamored with the doggie as her friend was. But then, Gran has always been a cat lady.

  “I hate that dog,” said Shanille suddenly. She sounded pretty determined. “I hate her so much!”

  And then I saw what had happened. Father Reilly had only gone and told all of us that he wished he had gotten a dog like Minnie Mouse instead of Shanille. Not exactly the right thing to say to a very sensitive feline like Shanille.

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean it, honey,” said Harriet.

  “Yeah, I’m sure he said it as a joke,” said Clarice. “Humans do that kind of thing all the time. They want to make a good impression on another human so they’ll say any old thing that comes to mind. Verbal diarrhea, they call it. Typical human phenomenon.”

  “Oh, he meant it,” said Shanille. “I could see it in his eyes. And in fact, he’s still looking at that infernal dog as if she’s God’s gift to humankind.”

  I would have pointed out to her that the poor doggie couldn’t help it that her presence had caused all the humans to fawn over her, but that wouldn’t have made much of a difference, so I refrained from commenting.

  Rees Levenson, the sexton-turned-boatman, had finally managed to cast off and start up the vessel’s engine, and so it looked like we were on our way to further shores—or more specifically, Devil’s Island, the island where Captain Quidd had buried his treasure.

  It certainly was a strange name for an island, I thought, and I hoped that the name wouldn’t bring us bad luck. As it was, I still didn’t fully believe that this treasure map Gran had acquired was real. At least that’s what Anthemia had told Odelia, and probably she would know. And even if it was real, chances were the treasure had long since been stolen.

  But Gran and all of her human counterparts were so far beyond reason that nothing we said would put a dent in their conviction that, very soon now, they would all be rich.

  And so I let it go and decided to chalk the entire experience up to an adventure.

  And who doesn’t love a good adventure?

  Okay, so I don’t love a good adventure. But I wasn’t going to let my own personal predilections stand in the way of the others having a good time.

  CHAPTER 35

  Dooley hadn’t known quite what to expect from this trip. He’d known it would involve something called camping—or even glamping—but what did that actually entail? It was hard to know. Harriet told him to expect the worst, and Brutus had said it wasn’t as bad as all that. All in all, it was safe to say things were going to be interesting. Very, very interesting.

  And the most interesting part was that Max hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t declared it was going to be the worst experience of his life, and he hadn’t said it was going to be the best experience of his life. In fact, Dooley got the impression that Max simply wasn’t interested. Not interested at all. Which told him that the big brain hiding under Max’s big skull was working overtime on a different project. Working so hard that it didn’t leave any space to form an opinion about their upcoming treasure hunt.

  “What are you thinking, Max?” he asked.

  They had traveled along the coastline for a while and were now heading straight to the island. There was a light sea breeze, but otherwise things were still and calm. Too still and too calm, in Dooley’s personal opinion. Like the calm before the storm, if that was a thing. It might be something that only applied to movies and suspenseful books—like the ones Marge liked to read.

  “I’m still thinking about those murders,” said Max. “I mean, it’s obvious that Brendon Hetman is innocent, and so is Christi Windley. And if that’s true, it stands to reason the killer is still out there and thinks he or she has managed to get away with murder.”

  “And all because of Mick Harper’s incompetence,” Brutus pointed out.

  “And Chase’s unwillingness to fight for his old job,” Harriet added.

  “Is it true what I’ve heard?” said Kingman. “Is Chase gone from the police department? Did he quit?”

  “He did,” Brutus confirmed. He turned to Harriet. “And for your information, honey plum, Chase wasn’t unwilling to fight for his job. Uncle Alec just made it clear he didn’t stand a chance of ever getting it back, so he decided to jump before he was pushed.”

  “I still can’t believe Uncle Alec would do such a thing,” said Shanille. “He always struck me as an honorable man. And loyal. Also, isn’t Chase his godson?”

  “He is,” Brutus confirmed. “He’s like the son Uncle Alec never had. But that hasn’t stopped him from treating Chase in the most despicable way.” He shook his head. “I hate to admit it, but I don’t like Uncle Alec very much right now. He has disappointed me greatly.”

  There were murmurs of agreement among the rest of the group, and it was clear to Dooley that Uncle Alec’s reputation was at an all-time low. In fact, it was so low it was probably in the basement—or even lower. What was lower than the basement? The earth’s core? If so, then that’s where Uncle Alec’s stock currently resided.

  “Uncle Alec owes Chase an apology,” said Kingman. “A heartfelt apology. And he should give him his job back. Chase has done so much for this town, and this is how he’s repaid? Shame. Shame on him.”

  “It’s not Uncle Alec who’s behind this,” said Brutus. “It’s Charlene. She’s the one who’s been pushing her husband to give Mick all the credit for catching those killers, and told Uncle Alec to offer Mick Chase’s old job. And for what? So the town can shine.”

  “The town isn’t shining,” said Harriet. “It’s not shining at all.”

  Dooley thought about this and wondered if a town could shine. Wouldn’t a town need to be polished in order to shine? And who would decide how shiny Hampton Cove was? Astronauts examining the town from space? It was an interesting thought, and by the time he tuned back in, the conversation had moved on from Uncle Alec to a different topic. This often happened to him. He got distracted by something someone said and missed entire chunks of conversation.

  “Why did Anthemia Eiderduck say that the treasure map was a fake, and yet Gran is convinced that it’s real?” asked Shanille. “Because if I were a betting cat—which I’m not—my money would be on Anthemia. After all, it’s her dad’s treasure map, and if he didn’t think it led to an actual treasure, chances are he was right.”

  “Gran is one of those people who follows her gut,” said Harriet. “And since her gut told her the treasure map was real, she doesn’t care what Anthemia Eiderduck or anyone else says about it. She’ll follow her gut to the ends of the earth if that’s what it takes.”

  This was another one of those interesting statements, Dooley thought. Can a gut talk? He darted a thoughtful look at his human’s tummy and wondered if what Harriet said was true. He had to admit he’d never seen Gran’s tummy. When she took a shower, she liked to close the door, and she wasn’t one of those people who walked around in a bikini. Mostly, she wore tracksuits, like the one she was wearing now. It’s hard to see a person’s gut in a tracksuit.

  He imagined that Gran’s gut had a mouth and lips and that it could talk. Maybe it talked to her in the bathroom, when Gran was getting ready to start her day? Or in the shower?

  Inquiring minds wanted to know, but seeing that Max was deep in thought again, he decided not to trouble him with his questions. Sometimes he got the impression Max didn’t like it when he asked him too many questions. But he could be wrong. At any rate, the gut question would have to wait, for the sexton—who wasn’t a sexton anymore, according to Father Reilly—announced that they had arrived at their destination: Devil’s Island.

  It was true, Dooley saw, for a dark outline of rocks had emerged on the horizon. In fact, it obscured his view of the night sky, with all its twinkling stars and the full moon.

  And the closer they drifted, the more nervous the ex-sexton appeared to become.

  “There’s a lot of treacherous rock here,” he explained. “So we need to proceed very carefully. Once we’re past those sharp rocks, we should be fine.”

  And so, for the next couple of minutes, nobody spoke but just stared up at those dark rocks growing ever closer and looking quite foreboding, Dooley thought.

  If he had a gut that could talk, it would probably tell him that this had been a bad idea. A very bad idea indeed.

  Finally, Rees managed to get them past the dangerous, sharp underwater rock formations in one piece—without sinking his boat—and dropped anchor in front of what looked like a rather tranquil and peaceful beach.

  “Okay, time to go ashore,” he announced.

  “You don’t expect us to swim, do you?” asked Gran.

  “No, I expect you to load everything into the dinghy I’ve got for this exact purpose and head ashore,” said Rees with a smile.

  A sexton with a sense of humor. Now those were rare, Dooley knew. And so he liked Rees even more than before. Not just for making sure they didn’t drown or cut themselves on those sharp rocks, but also for making Gran smile. It was a rare man who could make that old lady smile, he knew.

  “Funny guy,” she murmured, and joined the others in loading the dinghy, which the boat had been dragging along behind it for this exact purpose.

  Only one person had room to steer the dinghy ashore, and since Rees was the only one qualified to handle such a delicate assignment, he proceeded to steer it to the beach.

  By the time he returned, the atmosphere aboard the vessel was quite pleasant, as everyone seemed eager to start their adventure. Everyone but Max. But then Dooley knew Max wasn’t a big fan of adventures. A waste of time, he had often said. While you were busy having an adventure, you could just as well take a nice long nap instead.

  He was probably right. Dooley loved napping as much as the next cat. But going on an adventure held a certain appeal to him—especially since everyone had so much riding on this. The fate of fifty pugs, for one thing, and also Harriet’s future as an international star, or Brutus’s cat spa. And of course, Scarlett’s sagging jawline that needed scaffolding, Father Reilly’s church roof that needed rebuilding, and Wilbur’s store that needed extending.

  And so Dooley was determined to find that treasure for all the good it could do.

  As he scurried to the edge of the boat to get a good view of the island, the tiny Chihuahua spoke.

  “What are we doing on this boat?” she asked shyly.

  Dooley said, “Well, we’re going to look for a treasure that someone buried on this island.”

  “What treasure is this?” asked the Chihuahua. She was still ensconced in her owner’s purse and didn’t look comfortable enough yet to come out.

  “It’s a treasure that was buried here by a man named Captain Quidd,” said Dooley. “He was a pirate, and he stole a lot of gold and jewels from other people.”

  “So he was a thief?”

  “Yes, he was a thief. And also a murderer, since most of the people he robbed didn’t live to tell the tale.” Brutus had told him all of this, and he believed it. By all accounts, Captain Quidd hadn’t been a very nice man.

  “And are we going to give all of that gold and those jewels back to the people Captain Quidd stole them from?”

  “Um… I don’t think so?” It was a valid question and not one anyone had asked, as far as he knew. Everyone had different reasons for wanting to get their hands on that treasure, but none of them included returning it to the rightful owners.

  “Why not?” asked the teacup Chihuahua.