“That was very noble of you, sir.”

  “Not at all. I was in love, you see, but not so bedazzled that I didn’t have a private detective look into Rosa’s past. A man in my position has to be careful. But he told me what I already knew in my heart: she never had an inkling of what Clive was up to. And after he disappeared, he didn’t even try to get in touch. Abandoned his family without a second thought.” His expression hardened. “Which makes me despise him even more.”

  The interview was over, and we all got up. Odelia shook Mr. Bond’s hand. “What do you do these days, sir? As I understand, you don’t have to work for a living anymore.”

  He laughed. “You mean, why do I have an office if I’m independently wealthy?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, a wealthy man suddenly becomes very popular, Mrs. Kingsley, and any number of charities and organizations suddenly pop out of the woodwork, eager to share your wealth with you. And so after I made a careful selection, I decided to award a few of them with my patronage and my money. So now I find myself on so many committees that I have to work harder than when I was still building my business. But you know what?” He leaned in as he shook Odelia’s hand warmly. “It’s so much more enjoyable now that I get to pick and choose what to do with my time—and my money, of course.”

  As we left the office, and found ourselves on the sidewalk once more, Odelia said, “He wasn’t lying. According to an article I read, Tilton Bond is one of the most generous contributors to Hampton Cove’s many charities and nonprofits, and practically singlehandedly keeps them all running.”

  “The world needs more people like him,” I said.

  “It sure does,” she agreed.

  Chapter 17

  That evening, we were scheduled to go out patrolling with the neighborhood watch. Though I should probably call it the Baker Street Cats, since that was the new name.

  Before setting out to patrol the streets and alleys that form our small town, Scarlett and Gran sat down with the four of us in Tex and Marge’s backyard, for another installment in what apparently were a series of lessons to teach Scarlett our language.

  “My name is Harriet,” said Harriet emphatically, enunciating every syllable clearly.

  “Meow meow meow,” said Scarlett, managing to look bewildered, frustrated and puzzled at the same time.

  “No, no, no,” said Harriet.

  “Meow meow meow,” Scarlett said once more.

  “You’re not listening,” said Harriet. “Repeat after me: My name is Harriet.”

  “Meow meow meow etcetera,” said Scarlett. She looked to Gran, who sat consulting her smartphone. “Do you have any idea what she’s saying?”

  “She said ‘My name is Harriet,’” Gran murmured. “And then she said you’re not listening, and she repeated: ‘My name is Harriet.’”

  “Well, all I’m hearing is a lot of meowing, and it all sounds the same.”

  “It’s not, darling. She’s forming very distinct words, and those words all form distinct and clearly defined sentences, and when you put it all together, there is a very clear and distinct meaning in those words and sentences.”

  “But it all sounds like gibberish to me! And will you please put down that damned phone!”

  “There seems to be a lot of criminal activity going on in our town,” Gran said. “A television set was stolen from Mrs. Barker on Lincoln Street. And two vandals were caught in the act of spraying graffiti on a car belonging to a Mr. Monsoon.” She sighed. “We really need to get out there and start patrolling, or else this whole place will go down in flames.”

  “You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, Vesta. I can’t do this—it’s impossible!”

  “No, it’s not. You’re simply not trying hard enough. Now repeat after me. My name is Harriet.”

  “Meow meow meow,” said Scarlett, rolling her eyes.

  “No, that’s not it. I clearly said ‘My name is Harriet.’”

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  “Then you heard wrong.” Gran glanced to her friend’s ears. “Maybe it’s your hearing. Are you sure you don’t need a hearing aid?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my ears, Vesta.”

  “You’re not as young as you used to be, you know. Many women your age need a hearing aid. Have you seen a doctor?”

  “I don’t need to see a doctor! My ears are fine!”

  “Then I really don’t know what the problem is.”

  “The problem is that this… gift you have, isn’t something you can teach. It’s probably genetic.”

  “You think?”

  “Of course!”

  The two women stared at Harriet, who looked concerned, and so did Brutus.

  “But, Gran,” said Harriet. “If we can’t teach humans to talk to us, this whole Baker Street Cats project is useless!”

  “Yeah, if we don’t have a human operator who can interpret the messages my soldiers send in,” said Brutus, “the app won’t work.”

  “Nonsense,” said Gran. “We’ll just have to find a way to make it work. Look, if they can put Jeff Bezos in space, how hard can it be to create an app that makes sense of what you’re saying?”

  “There’s only one solution as I see it,” said Scarlett.

  “Which is?”

  “That you and Marge and Odelia work around the clock to man the command center where all the information from the Baker Street Cats comes in, and work as dispatchers.”

  “I’m not going to spend the rest of my life as a dispatcher,” said Gran. “No way.”

  “Well, if you want this to work, you’ll have to.”

  “Marge can do it,” said Harriet. “I mean, how many people go to the library nowadays?”

  “Yeah, kids don’t read books anymore,” Brutus chimed in. “They all play computer games, or chat with their friends on WhatsApp or watch TikTok. They don’t need books.”

  “He’s right, you know,” said Harriet. “Libraries are a thing of the past, Gran, so Marge should come on board, and become the world’s first Baker Street Cats dispatcher.”

  “I very much doubt she’ll want to do that,” Gran grunted.

  “Well, she’ll have to, or otherwise this project will be a bust!”

  “Odelia is going to have a baby,” suddenly Dooley interjected, sounding gloomy.

  All those present, except for Scarlett, regarded him with astonishment. Though the responses were markedly different: Gran looked elated, Harriet was frowning and didn’t look happy, and Brutus looked pretty much indifferent.

  “A baby!” Gran cried.

  “What baby?” asked Scarlett.

  “Odelia is pregnant!” Gran said.

  “She’s not pregnant,” I said, hastening to put the record straight before the whole town was buzzing with news that wasn’t news. “All she said was that she wants to start a family.”

  “So she’s not pregnant?” asked Gran.

  “No, she’s not—at least not as far as I know.”

  “Oh,” said Gran, her face sagging.

  “So is she pregnant or isn’t she pregnant?” asked Scarlett.

  “I’m not sure,” said Gran. “Dooley says she is, and Max says she isn’t.”

  “Let’s ask her,” said Scarlett, closing her notebook, visibly relieved her lessons for the day were over. “Odelia!” she hollered, getting up. “Oh, Odelia!”

  Odelia’s head popped through the opening in the hedge. “Yes?”

  “Is it true that you’re pregnant?” asked Scarlett.

  Odelia frowned. “Of course not—why do you ask?”

  “Your cats seem to think so.”

  “Do they now?” said Odelia, cutting a curious glance in my direction.

  I was shaking my head, but before I could deny the charge, Gran said, “It would be great if you were pregnant, honey. It’s what we’re all waiting for, you know.”

  “Frankly whether I’m pregnant or not is none of your business, Gran,” said Odelia, “or yours, for that matter, Scarlett.”

  “Well!” said Scarlett, taken aback.

  “But for your information, I’m not pregnant, and even if I was, the first person I’d tell would be my husband.” And with these words, she turned on her heel and disappeared again.

  “She’s pregnant,” said Scarlett knowingly. “Only a pregnant woman would be so catty.”

  “She’s not catty,” said Gran. “Or is she?”

  “Oh, she’s catty all right. Did you see the way she was looking at me? Hormones.”

  “I’m not sure,” said Gran. Then a keen look came into her eyes. “Let’s ask Marge. If anyone knows, it’ll be Marge.”

  “Marge!” Scarlett bellowed. “Marge, come here a minute, will you!”

  Marge’s head now popped through the kitchen window. “What?” she asked, looking a little harried. Libraries might be a thing of the past, but the library where Marge worked still seemed to give her plenty of work.

  “Is it true that Odelia is pregnant?” asked Scarlett, not beating about the bush.

  Marge frowned. “What?

  “Pregnant,” said Scarlett.

  “We have it on good authority that you’re going to be a grandmother soon,” said Gran.

  “And you a great-grandmother,” Scarlett pointed out, causing a slight lessening of Gran’s exuberance.

  “Great-grandmother,” she repeated. “Oh, my…”

  “Oh, don’t talk nonsense,” said Marge. “If my daughter were pregnant, don’t you think she would have told me?”

  “So she’s not pregnant?” asked Scarlett.

  “Of course not.”

  “Huh!” said Scarlett, as Marge’s head disappeared.

  “Oh, I know,” said Gran. “Let’s ask Tex.”

  “Of course! If anyone knows, it’s Odelia’s doctor. Tex!” she screamed. “Oh, Texie!”

  Tex’s head came popping out of the upstairs bedroom window, where presumably he’d been engaged in admiring the portrait of his gnome, the pride of his collection. “What is it?” he asked. “Where is the fire?”

  “No fire,” said Scarlett. “Just that we heard that congratulations are in order.”

  “What congratulations?” asked Tex, looking puzzled.

  “Oh, don’t be coy, Tex. We know you’re going to be a grandfather soon!”

  Tex’s face lit up. “I am? Oh, that’s wonderful news.”

  “You mean you didn’t know?” asked Scarlett.

  “No, I didn’t. This is news to me—but wonderful, absolutely wonderful.”

  “But you are your daughter’s doctor, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not a gynecologist, Scarlett,” said Tex.

  “So you wouldn’t know if she were pregnant?” Scarlett insisted.

  “Not unless she told me,” said Tex.

  “Okay, Tex, go away,” said Gran. “We don’t need you anymore.”

  “Oh,” said Tex, giving us a look of confusion, retracting his head again.

  Just then, Chase came walking through the hedge, and gave us an all-encompassing smile. “Still working on those cat-talking skills, are you, Scarlett?” he said.

  “Chase, you’re the dad,” said Scarlett, pouncing on the cop. “So when is the big day?”

  “What big day?” asked Chase.

  “When is your wife’s due date?!” Scarlett insisted.

  “Due date?”

  “Babies, Chase!” said Gran. “When is the baby due?”

  “Before you can have a due date, first you need to be pregnant,” the cop pointed out.

  “Oh, don’t keep us in suspense!” Gran snapped. “Is your wife pregnant or isn’t she?”

  Chase gave her a smile. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out, isn’t it?”

  And with these cryptic words, he walked into the house.

  “This family of yours is just terrible!” said Scarlett.

  “Yeah, so secretive,” Gran murmured.

  And then, slowly, they both turned to me. And soon I found that Harriet, Brutus and Dooley were also staring at me.

  “You’re Odelia’s top cat, Max,” said Harriet.

  “Yeah, if anyone knows her deepest darkest secrets, it’s you,” Brutus added.

  “A baby is not a dark secret, Brutus,” said Gran.

  “No, I guess it’s not,” Brutus amended his statement.

  “But you know, don’t you, Max!” said Harriet.

  “Look, you guys, I have no idea what goes on behind closed doors!” I said.

  “Oh, but you do, Max—you always do,” said Harriet.

  “Yeah, you’re a clever little detective, aren’t you, Max?” said Brutus.

  “If anyone knows, it’s you, Max!” said Gran.

  “And if he doesn’t know now, he’ll be able to find out, won’t you, Max?” said Scarlett.

  “But you guys!” I cried.

  “You have to find out, Max,” said Harriet.

  “Yeah, our lives depend on it,” Brutus chimed in.

  “A baby is going to change everything, Max,” said Dooley.

  “As we all know: when babies come, cats have to go,” Harriet added.

  “Which means we’ll have to go,” said Brutus.

  “No more sleeping at the foot of the bed,” said Harriet.

  “No more spending time lazing around the house,” Brutus added.

  “The good old days are over, Max,” said Harriet.

  “Yeah, it’s bye-bye cats,” said Gran.

  “At least as long as that baby is an infant,” Brutus pointed out. He turned to Harriet. “How long does it last, that infancy stage?”

  “Oh, probably until the kid goes off to college?” said Harriet.

  “College!” Dooley cried. “But that’s… a very long time!”

  “Okay, so it’s a matter of life or death, Max,” said Gran.

  “You have to find out if Odelia is pregnant—now!” Harriet stressed.

  “Oh, all right!” I said. “I will find out, I promise!”

  Okay, so I finally caved. But what did you expect? It was indeed a matter of life or death for us cats! Harriet was right: when babies come, cats have to go! And I honestly didn’t feel like going just yet. I was much too young to go! I really was!

  Chapter 18

  And so I found myself, sandwiched between Harriet and Brutus in the back of Gran’s little red Peugeot, my two friends chattering excitedly about my ‘mission’ and discussing the pros and cons of the new baby arriving in our midst. Dooley was seated next to Brutus, having been muscled out of the center of things, and frankly I wasn’t feeling all that sanguine with my new position as potential savior of the Poole cat contingent.

  At least there was one silver lining about all of this: no longer were the Baker Street Cats the center of attention. The downside was that there was actual talk of sabotaging any potential arrival of the new baby in our midst!

  “Babies are bad for business, Max, you have to accept that,” said Harriet in hushed tones.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, as we all know, the moment a baby arrives, humans kick their cats to the curb.”

  “And we’re talking the actual curb, Max,” said Brutus.

  “We’ll have to live on the street,” said Harriet. “Eat from dumpsters.”

  “We’ll be living like Clarice,” said Brutus. “And you know what that means.”

  “Rats and mice,” Harriet added.

  “They’ll be all the food we’ll have.”

  “Apart from the occasional leftovers.”

  “No more gourmet food for us, Max. No more delicious kibble. No more wet food pouches. No, the moment that baby arrives, the family will close ranks and they’ll kick us all out—to live on the street like common mongrels!”

  “So it’s imperative that we come up with a plan of campaign,” said Harriet.

  “First,” said Brutus, like the general that he imagined himself to be, “we need to make sure there really is a baby.”

  “Second,” said Harriet, “if there is no baby, we need to make sure there won’t be a baby.”

  “What?!” I cried, alarmed by this train of thought.

  “Look, this is a matter of life or death, Max,” said Harriet sternly.

  “A question of it or us,” said Brutus.

  “But you guys!” I said.

  “It’s very simple, Max,” said Harriet. “All you need to do is make sure that Odelia takes her pills.”

  “What pills?” asked Dooley.

  “The anti-baby kind,” Harriet snapped.

  “They have anti-baby pills?”

  “Of course they do. So you just make sure Odelia keeps taking her pills, and we’re in the clear.”

  “And how do you propose I do that?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe you mix them in her corn flakes? Or put them in her coffee?”

  “But Harriet!” I said. “I can’t do that!”

  “It does sound a little harsh when you put it like that, sexy legs,” Brutus said.

  “Yeah, I know,” said Harriet. “I heard myself just now and it does sound harsh.”

  “Cruel.”

  “But essential for our survival!” Harriet cried.

  “Maybe babies are not so bad,” said Dooley.

  “Dooley, how can you say that!” Harriet hissed.

  “Most people seem to like them. And I’m sure they get good reviews on Yelp.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying, Dooley,” said Brutus, shaking his head.

  “Oh, but I do. I’ve seen plenty of documentaries about babies. They’re very nice to look at. Ten little toes, ten little fingers… And that baby fuzz on top of their little heads.”

  “Babies are a cat’s natural enemy, Dooley,” said Brutus, “and it’s important we don’t become soft and allow ourselves to be seduced by their innate cuteness.”

  “It’s that cuteness that hides their essential dark nature!” said Harriet.

  “That cuteness is nature’s way of seducing us to the dark side.”

  “But they look like so much fun!” said Dooley.

  “Don’t be tempted, Dooley!” said Brutus.