The person holding the camera panned along the house, and they could see that the lights inside were out. A gloved hand appeared into view and easily and expertly picked the front door lock with a lock picking instrument. It only took the person five seconds, according to the little timer appearing in the left bottom corner of the screen. A message flashed on the screen: ‘I can get at you whenever and wherever I want, Randy!’

  “Chilling,” Max murmured, intently watching the video.

  “That person is definitely a better burglar than Gran, isn’t he, Odelia?” said Dooley.

  “Yeah, he or she certainly is,” said Odelia with a smile. Her grandmother was probably the worst lock picker in the world.

  The video showed a person’s shoes now, treading a soft carpet, and mounting a staircase. Moments later a large portrait came into view of Randy Hancock himself, dressed in his customary outfit, sitting on a throne and wearing a crown on his head.

  “He seems to be very popular, doesn’t he, when people have posters of him on their walls,” Dooley remarked.

  Odelia didn’t say anything, for she knew what was coming. A door was opened, once more by the same gloved hand, and suddenly they were in a bedroom. The camera panned the room, and then zoomed in on the bed… where Randy lay sleeping soundly.

  ‘See?’ a message flashed across the screen. ‘I can get at you any time, Randy!’

  “Is that Randy?” asked Dooley, staring at the screen.

  “Yes, it is,” said Odelia.

  “But… why is that burglar in his bedroom?” The small gray cat’s voice had turned a little panicky. “What is he going to do with him?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “He’s not going to murder him, is he?” asked Dooley.

  “If he had, Randy would be dead,” Max pointed out.

  “Oh. Right.”

  That same gloved hand now came out with what looked like a syringe, and suddenly, and before their eyes, plunged that syringe into Randy’s arm, then pressed down on the plunger. A liquid was injected into the sleeping man’s body.

  “Why isn’t he waking up?” asked Dooley. “He must have felt that prick, right?”

  “Randy thinks someone must have put something in his drink before he went to bed. He thinks a member of his staff might be in cahoots with whoever is doing this to him.”

  “That’s not very nice,” said Dooley.

  The syringe now appeared in closeup, and a line ran across the screen: ‘This deadly toxin will kill you, Randy. You will be dead in five days. Unless you do as we tell you. Watch this space…’

  And then the video abruptly cut out.

  “Wow,” said Max. “So they injected him with a slow-acting poison and unless he cooperates it will kill him?”

  “Yeah, that’s what it looks like,” said Odelia. “There is an antidote, that much is clear from the messages they’ve sent him, but they won’t give it to him unless…”

  “Unless what?” asked Max.

  She shrugged. “That, he doesn’t know. Yet.”

  “They will probably be in touch again,” said Chase. “Probably with some kind of financial demand. And if he doesn’t pay, they won’t give him the antidote and Randy Hancock… will die.” He spoke in somber tones, as Randy was one of Chase’s heroes, and had always been, ever since he was a little boy.

  “I don’t like this, Max,” Dooley said. “These are some very bad people.” He glanced up at the staircase. “And what if they come to our house now, and inject us with the same poison? Then we’ll all be dead in five days.”

  “They won’t come here,” said Odelia. “Randy didn’t tell anyone he was coming to see us, and no one in his regular circle even knows we exist, or that Randy knows us.”

  “We have to help him,” said Max. “The poor man is clearly scared, and at the end of his rope.”

  “He looked better on the video you were watching before,” Dooley agreed.

  “He hasn’t been feeling well,” said Odelia. “First he broke his pelvis and now this. It’s taken a great toll on him.”

  “So what are you going to do?” asked Max, never one to sit around twiddling his paws.

  “I’m not sure what I can do. Chase will have that video and those messages examined by an old colleague of his at the NYPD.”

  “What do you want us to do?”

  She shrugged. “I have no idea. First we need to find out more about what’s going on.”

  He nodded. “If you need us, just let us know, Odelia. Whatever we can do to help Mr. Hancock.”

  “Thanks,” she said warmly, patting her cats on the head. “And sorry you had to see that video. Was it too disturbing for you guys?”

  “No, it’s fine,” said Max. “It must have given him quite a shock. Knowing that a person was in your house, and injected you with poison.” He shivered. “Terrible business.”

  It was, and the worst part was that she had no idea how to help Randy. She was a local reporter and amateur sleuth, but this stuff was way above her pay grade.

  At least Chase would know what to do. And hopefully find these people and get Randy that antidote.

  Randy now came down the stairs, still looking dazed. “I totally forgot,” he said, “but can Little Randy stay here, too? I should have asked before, but that video shook me.”

  “Little Randy?” asked Odelia.

  Randy pointed in the direction of the front door. “I left him in the car. Shall I go and get him?”

  “Oh… sure,” she said.

  Max and Dooley gave her a look of confusion. “Is he bringing another person to stay with us?” asked Dooley.

  “Yeah, probably his son,” she said. “Now I know you guys aren’t used to having kids around, but there’s no need to be scared. I’m sure Little Randy is a well-behaved little boy and…”

  “And here he is,” said Randy as he walked back in followed by a very large… dog.

  8

  “Hiya fellas,” said the dog, who was probably three times my size. “How are things?”

  “Things are… fine,” I said, looking up at the dog and wondering in what universe this Randy would be considered ‘little.’

  “Are you sure that you’re a dog, Little Randy?” asked Dooley.

  “Yeah, pretty sure,” said Little Randy. “Well, my mom is a dog, and my dad is a dog, and all my brothers and sisters are dogs, so odds are that I’m a dog, too, little buddy. So what’s your name?”

  “Dooley,” said Dooley.

  “Max,” I said.

  “Nice to make your acquaintance, Max and Dooley,” said Little Randy and glanced around. “Nice place you’ve got here. So this is my new home away from home, huh?”

  “Yeah, I guess it is,” I said, glancing up at Odelia. She was giving Little Randy a look of uncertainty. Clearly she hadn’t expected this either.

  We shifted our attention to Chase, and I saw that the cop had an expression on his face of absolute and pure rapture. He was staring at Little Randy, and I could tell that this was love at first sight. A smidgen annoyed, for he’d never looked at me or Dooley like that, I said, “Looks like Chase has already fallen head over heels in love with our new housemate.”

  “Chase has always been a dog person,” Dooley said. “And now he’s finally got what he always wanted. A big dog.”

  Some men love small dogs, like Kurt Mayfield, our next-door neighbor, and others love big dogs. Chase definitely is in the latter category, and it didn’t take long for him to approach our new friend and start patting his head and making his acquaintance.

  “He’s amazing,” he gushed. “How long have you had him?”

  “Just three years,” said Randy. “I mainly got him for security reasons, but we’ve become very close. He’s my constant companion. I don’t go anywhere without my Little Randy.”

  “What kind of dog is he?” asked Chase, taking in the big mutt with a doe-eyed look in his eyes.

  “Irish Setter. Real family dog. Very affectionate.”

  “This is a very small place you got here,” said Little Randy. “Are you sure this is all there is?”

  “We have some more rooms upstairs,” I said, “and there’s the backyard, of course.”

  “Oh, great. I need my space,” said the dog, and tripped over in the direction indicated. When he caught sight of the modest patch of green we like to call the backyard, he frowned. “So where is this backyard? Is it behind those bushes over there?”

  “No, those bushes is where Odelia’s backyard ends and the field begins.”

  “Please tell me the field belongs to your Odelia,” said Little Randy, looking disappointed.

  “No, it belongs to someone else. I’m afraid this is it.”

  “This is your backyard? But it’s so tiny!”

  “Yeah, it’s not much but we like it,” I said a little defensively.

  “Okay,” said the dog, and seemed to have to make some minor adjustments to his expectations. “So you all live in this tiny house and this tiny backyard… and you never get claustrophobic?”

  “No, as a matter of fact we don’t,” I said.

  “Do you have a very big house, Little Randy?” asked Dooley. “And a very big backyard?”

  “Yeah, Randy’s house is 23,000 square feet, and is surrounded by forty acres of land. When I go for a walk I never leave the property, and it takes me a while to get around.”

  “Nice,” I said.

  “Don’t you ever get lost?” asked Dooley, fascinated. “I think I’d get lost all the time, if Odelia lived in a house that big.”

  “No, I don’t get lost, Dooley,” said Little Randy with a smile. “And nor would you, since you’re a cat, and you have an innate sense of direction, same way dogs have.” He sighed and stretched out on the carpet that Odelia placed in front of the window for Dooley and me to lie on. “This will take some adjusting on my part, you guys. Which is not to say that your Odelia doesn’t have a lovely, lovely place, because she has—but tiny. Very, very tiny.”

  I’d never actually given the size of our home a lot of thought. It suited me just fine, but probably Little Randy was right: we do live in a modest home, with a modest backyard. Then again, I’d seen bigger places, when Odelia worked a case for one of the many celebrities that live in the big mansions spread out in these parts, or along the ocean, and frankly I preferred our cozy little house to those giant dwellings, to be honest.

  “So were you there when your human was attacked?” I now wanted to know.

  “They drugged me,” said Little Randy, a sad look stealing over his face. “Can you believe that? They actually drugged me and I didn’t even notice.”

  “How did they drug you?” asked Dooley. “Did they put something in your food?”

  “I don’t think so. I think they probably spiked my water bowl. Though I can’t be sure. And by the time Randy found out what happened—when they started sending him those messages—it was too late.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “My water bowl had already been rinsed and so had my food bowl.”

  “Who did the rinsing?” I asked.

  “Randy’s housekeeper.”

  “Do you think she’s in on this plot?”

  “Floralba is on the list of possible suspects,” the dog agreed. “Though why she would do it is beyond me. She’s been with Randy for thirty years, and has always treated him well, so…” He placed his head on his paws. “I guess with humans you just never know.”

  Dooley and I retreated, deciding to give Little Randy some space. “He seems very sad,” Dooley whispered once we were out of earshot of the big dog. “Poor Little Randy.”

  “I think he feels he let his human down,” I said. “By not protecting him against these people.”

  “But he couldn’t protect Randy. The evil housekeeper drugged him!”

  “We don’t know that, Dooley, so let’s not jump to conclusions.”

  “I think she did it, Max. Who else could it be?”

  “Let’s just wait and see,” I said. I was pretty sure Odelia would ask us to come along to Randy’s house the following day, to start her investigation, and I liked to keep an open mind.

  I glanced over to the sizable dog, and felt for him. And then I got an idea. “Why don’t we introduce Little Randy to Fifi and Rufus?” I suggested. “That way he won’t feel so alone.”

  “Great idea, Max,” said Dooley enthusiastically.

  It’s hard for a dog to make friends with a pair of cats, and if things gelled between our canine guest and our neighboring dogs, they could get him out of this funk.

  Just then, Harriet waltzed in and said, “Still no sign of Brutus? Nothing?”

  Dooley turned to me, looking aghast. “It’s the poisoners, Max! They took Brutus and poisoned him, too!”

  9

  Dooley wasn’t entirely happy with this situation. He didn’t mind when Odelia solved her mysteries and asked her cats to tag along, but now she was actually courting danger. A man who was going to die in five days, and his dog who’d been poisoned… Who was to say the people behind this terrible, terrible crime wouldn’t find them and seek them out, too? And then they’d poison the entire household and they’d all die a gruesome death!

  He knew how these poisoners operated. They didn’t mind if innocent bystanders like the Pooles or their cats got hit, too. And to die by poison just seemed like such an unpleasant way to go.

  He shivered when he thought about it, and so when Harriet kept rambling on about Brutus who’d suddenly disappeared, he could clearly envision their friend lying in a ditch somewhere, alone and dying!

  “I think we should tell Odelia we don’t want Randy here,” he now said. “It’s very nice of her to want to help her big fitness idol, but I don’t think it’s safe.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Harriet. “What fitness idol?”

  “Randy Hancock, of course,” said Dooley, “and he brought his dog, too, and once those poisoners get wind that he’s holed up here, they’ll come looking, and then they’ll poison all of us and then we’ll be dead and where will that leave us? Not in a good place!”

  “Randy’s poisoners won’t be able to find us, Dooley,” said Max. “He made sure he wasn’t followed, and he didn’t tell anyone where he was going, so we’re perfectly safe.”

  “I still don’t get it,” said Harriet, frowning in frustration. “Who is Randy and what…” She did a double take when she caught sight of Little Randy taking up an awful lot of space on the carpet by the window. “What… is… that!”

  “That is Little Randy,” said Dooley. “He’s Randy’s dog, though he’s not very little, so I don’t know why he’s called that. He’s going to stay here for a while, even though he’s very sad because he couldn’t protect his human against the poison because the housekeeper spiked his water but then replaced it with fresh water before Randy could take it to the police.”

  Harriet was staring from Dooley to Little Randy and back. “Dooley, you keep talking and I keep wondering when you will finally start making sense! What poison?!”

  “The same poison that Brutus was fed,” said Dooley sadly, “and now he’s probably dying in some ditch somewhere, and by the time we find him he’ll be dead.”

  This time Harriet was too horrified to allow for speech, which maybe was a good thing, as the prissy white Persian had a habit of talking a lot. Like, a whole lot.

  “Randy Hancock is a fitness instructor,” said Max.

  “He’s Odelia’s fitness instructor,” said Dooley. “Only not really—just on TV.”

  “And someone injected him with poison and sent him a bunch of messages telling him he only has five days to live.”

  “Four now,” said Dooley helpfully.

  “They also sent him a video just now showing him how they did it.”

  “A very scary video, with very scary music, and scary words written on it.”

  “And now he wants Odelia to help him find out who’s behind this, and in the meantime he’ll be staying here and so will his dog.”

  “Oh, God,” said Harriet. “Why does this keep happening to us!”

  “Because our human is an amateur sleuth,” Dooley said. “And she likes to take on these hopeless cases.”

  “Hopeless?” asked Harriet. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because it’s clear that whoever gave Randy the poison wants him to die, and wants Little Randy to die, and wants us to die, too!”

  “That’s not true, Dooley,” said Max. “If they wanted Randy to die, they’d have killed him when they had the chance. No, what they really want is money, most probably. In exchange for the antidote.”

  “So why doesn’t Randy Hancock go to the police?” asked Harriet. “They’re the ones who should be chasing after these dangerous people, not Odelia—or us, for that matter.”

  “Because the people that injected the poison told him not to go to the police,” said Max.

  “They’re criminals!” said Harriet. “Of course they don’t want Randy to go to the police—but that’s no reason for him to drag us into his mess.”

  Dooley thought Harriet was being a little bit selfish. It was true that Randy had landed them all in the soup, but he was also a nice person, and a good fitness guru, and his big dog Little Randy was very nice, too, and helping people and their pets was what Odelia liked to do. In fact she had made it her mission in life to help people. A little bit like Mother Teresa, but without the headscarf.

  “I don’t like it either, Harriet,” he said now. “But maybe helping people is a good thing. Even though Odelia should probably have told Randy and Little Randy to go and stay in a hotel instead of here. But she has a big heart, and that’s why we all like her so much.”

  Harriet stared at him. “You know, Dooley, just when I think you’re probably the dumbest cat alive, you say things that actually make sense.”

  “Thanks, Harriet,” he said, grateful for the nice compliment. Though the thing about him being the dumbest cat alive somehow detracted a little from the rest of her words.