“Guess what? I’m making my big debut tonight! Yay me!”

  “Debut?” I asked. “Debut as what?”

  “As a singer and stage presence. I just found out Gran is performing at the Hampton Cove Star tonight, and when I told her about my great ambition to be a singer, she invited me to perform one song as part of her act. She’s been contracted to do two songs, and she’s graciously offering me part of her allotted time for my debut. Isn’t that just great?”

  “Amazing,” I said, not the least bit interested. “Wonderful. Fantastic. Knock ‘em dead.”

  “Who is she going to knock dead?” asked Dooley.

  “It’s just an expression, Dooley,” I said.

  Harriet looked annoyed. “You don’t have to be rude about it, Max,” she said. “Just because you don’t have any ambitions in life other than to lie on your flabby belly doesn’t mean you should be demeaning to the rest of us, who have a higher calling.”

  “I’m not being demeaning,” I said. “I said knock em dead, didn’t I?”

  “You’re obviously saying I sing so bad people will drop dead. Well, let me tell you—”

  “Knock em dead is a commonly used expression in showbiz, Harriet. It means that you’ll do so well you’ll knock the audience off their feet. You’ll simply blow them away.”

  “Oh,” she said, taken aback. “Well, thank you, Max. That’s very nice of you to say.”

  “I’m doing backing vocals,” Brutus muttered, looking pained. “And in front of some of the greats in showbiz, too.” He smiled nervously. “Shouldn’t we rehearse, though, smoochie poo?”

  “No need,” said Harriet decidedly. “Talent always shines through. Only talentless hacks rehearse. Real talent simply connects to the flow of divine genius and… dazzles.” She did the jazz paws thing to show us what she meant.

  “Connect to the flow of divine genius and dazzle,” Brutus repeated, not looking entirely convinced. “Gotcha.”

  “You are coming, aren’t you, Max? And you, Dooley” asked Harriet. “You have to see my debut. Or else you’ll whine and complain about it for the rest of your napping lives.”

  “Sure,” I said, and Harriet smiled, then stalked off, tail high and her head even higher.

  “Maybe one rehearsal?” I could hear Brutus say as they walked out into the backyard.

  “No means no, Brutus. We’re stars. Stars don’t rehearse. It might jinx us.”

  “No, no, of course,” he said. “You’re probably right.” His tail was down, though, which is never a good sign.

  “So is Harriet going to be a big star now, Max?” asked Dooley. “And Brutus?”

  “I doubt it, Dooley. It takes talent to be a star, and Harriet, regardless of her numerous other and very wonderful qualities, lacks the one thing that makes a great singer.”

  “What is that?”

  “She can’t sing.”

  “Maybe people won’t notice?”

  “Oh, I think people will notice.”

  “So maybe you should tell her?”

  “She wouldn’t believe me if I did. In fact she’ll probably get mad.”

  “But won’t she make a fool of herself tonight?”

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the course of my life, Dooley,” I said, “it is that people can hardly tell the difference between a cat who can and a cat who can’t sing. To humans it all sounds the same: like caterwauling. And they rarely enjoy it. And as far as other cats are concerned, I think we’ll probably be the only cats present. The Mayor rarely invites felines to his shindigs and tonight won’t be an exception I’m afraid.”

  “That’s too bad, Max. After all we are members of his community.”

  “We’re members of this community but we’re not voters, Dooley. And we don’t pay taxes. So as far as the Mayor is concerned we simply don’t exist.”

  “If I were able to vote I’d vote for you, Max.”

  I laughed at this. “Max for mayor. Now wouldn’t that be something?”

  But Dooley was serious. “I think you’d make a great mayor, Max.”

  “Oh, Dooley. I’d make a terrible mayor. For one thing I can’t even sign my own name, and it’s hard to give an acceptance speech when no one in the audience understands what you’re saying. No, trust me, buddy. No cat will ever be mayor of this town. That’s one of those facts of life you better accept now or agonize about in silence forever.”

  “Well, fine. But I still think you’d be great.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said with a smile. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. If I were voted mayor I’d make you my second-in-command. And maybe we’d finally outlaw all dogs in this town. Make Hampton Cove the first dog-free town in America.”

  “See? Who wouldn’t vote for that?”

  “Dogs, maybe?”

  He thought about this for a moment. “No, you’re probably right. And if pets could vote, dogs would probably try to get a dog elected. And where would that leave us?”

  “They’d probably turn Hampton Cove into the first cat-free town in America.”

  Dooley shook his head sadly. “We simply can’t win, can we, Max?”

  19

  Odelia arrived home wearing a deep frown. Writing the article, she’d realized how important it was to catch whoever had killed Chickie that morning, and she felt seriously hampered in her investigation by the Mayor’s veto. She now had a strong suspicion Laron Weskit and the others might skip town tonight after the show, and there was nothing she could do about it. And the more she thought about that contingency the more upset she became. And as she paced her modest home, she suddenly caught sight of Max and Dooley, quietly dozing on the windowsill, and an idea struck her.

  She approached her two cats and gently shook Max, then whispered in his ear, “Yoo-hoo, sleepyhead.”

  He made the cutest mewling sound, then opened his eyes and sleepily stared at her.

  “I want you to go with me tonight to the Hampton Cove Star, Max. There’s a big party and I want you to do some spying for me. Think you’re up for it?”

  Max yawned widely and said, “Is that the same party Harriet will sing at?”

  “Harriet is going to sing tonight?”

  “That’s what she said. Gran is giving her a part of her slot.”

  Odelia frowned. “Gran is also going to sing?”

  “It would appear so.”

  “Huh,” said Odelia. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s going to be a family occasion.”

  “Well, so there you go. Another good reason to be my eyes and ears tonight.”

  “I want to come and see Harriet, too,” said Dooley, stretching so much he almost dropped from the windowsill. She could just prevent him from toppling into the abyss.

  “You can both come,” she assured him. “You’re not going to miss Harriet’s show.”

  She thought for a moment. “So, um, I don’t think cats are particularly welcome at this shindig. It’s going to be very posh, with lots of celebrities and local politicians and businesspeople. The Mayor is going to give a speech, and hand the keys to the city to Charlie Dieber, but before that they reserved the stage for local talent—that’s when Dad and Gran and Harriet will perform. And then at the end of the evening Charlie will sing a couple of songs, and a duet with Jamie. So what I need you to do is snoop around Laron’s and Charlie’s rooms. I’m not allowed to talk to them and neither is my uncle or Chase, but that isn’t going to stop me from trying to find out as much about them as I can.”

  “We could watch the show from the wings,” Max suggested. “And once Gran and Harriet’s bits are done we could sneak out and go and search those rooms for you.”

  It sounded like a plan and she smiled. “You’ve got yourself a deal, buddy.”

  “So how are we going to get inside?” asked Max.

  “Let me worry about that. Oh, and do you know where Harriet and Brutus are? I want to ask them to join you. Four cats can snoop around a lot more than two.”

  “But Harriet will be on stage,” said Dooley.

  “I know, I mean when she’s done performing.”

  And then she was off, in search of the other two members of her cat menagerie.

  The Mayor might have prevented her from gaining access to four potential witnesses or even suspects, but he didn’t know she had four furry secret weapons at her disposal.

  She passed through the hedge that connected her backyard to her parents’, and walked into the kitchen. Mom was preparing dinner, looking a little rattled.

  “Have you seen Harriet and Brutus?” she asked. “I need to ask them something.”

  “Did you know your grandmother has decided to usurp your father?” asked Mom.

  “Usurp Dad? What are you talking about?”

  “Well, you remember how she said she wants to be the new Beyoncé?”

  “How could I forget? Is this about Gran performing at tonight’s event?”

  “Your dad was supposed to be the local talent. But your gran has usurped him.”

  “I’m sure they’ll both get to do a song. So have you seen Harriet and Brutus?”

  “But that’s just it. He’s not going to do a song. Gran has taken his place. And I think this time she’s gone too far. She knows how much your father was looking forward to tonight. First she took over his basement for her own rehearsals, and now she’s taking over his gigs. Soon he will have to call it quits, and that would be a real shame.”

  “Why don’t I talk to Gran?”

  “Yes, please. Talk some sense into her. Make her realize how much pain she’s caused with this latest stunt. Tex is a good man, and all this nonsense is preying on his mind.”

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  She moved into the living room, where Gran was watching Jeopardy.

  “Have you seen Harriet and Brutus, Gran?” she asked.

  “They’re around somewhere,” her grandmother grunted, her eyes fixed on the screen. “What is Belgium!”

  “Around where? I’ve been looking all over the place.”

  “Aren’t they over at yours? They usually hang around your place around this time. Harriet figures this house is too noisy, and she’s taken a sudden dislike to Jeopardy for some reason. No idea why. Best show on TV. Who is Cary Grant!”

  Odelia took a seat next to her grandmother. “Gran, I need to talk to you.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah. Is it true you took over Dad’s gig at tonight’s event?”

  “I did no such thing. Can I help it if the Mayor thinks my act is better suited for an event of this magnitude than your dad’s?”

  “Did you ask him to bump Dad from the lineup?”

  “No, I didn’t. All I did was call Marjorie, who’s in charge of the thing, and ask her what she preferred: three boring old coots singing a boring old jazz song, or a fun new act fronted by an exciting hit sensation. A no-brainer. She practically jumped at the chance.”

  “But Gran—you know how much Dad was looking forward to tonight. He and the other doctors have been practicing all week. It was supposed to be his crowning glory.”

  “Look, darling, it’s show business, not show charity. You have to be tough to make it in this business, and I’m sorry to say that Tex just ain’t got what it takes.”

  “That’s very mean-spirited of you, Gran. I didn’t know you hated Dad so much.”

  Gran looked up with a frown. “I don’t hate your father. In fact I kinda like him. In his own goofy way he’s good for Marge, and he’s a good dad. But this is my chance to shine, honey, and it may very well be my last one, too. I’m seventy-five. I might never get to perform in front of this crowd again. This is my shot at the big leagues and I owe it to myself to grab it. For Tex this is just a fun little hobby. For me it’s make-or-break time.”

  Odelia shook her head. “Still, it’s a pretty raw deal for Dad.”

  “Okay, fine, you’re probably right. You know what I’ll do? I’ll give one of my two slots to Tex. How about that? I’ll go first, and Tex can go next. That all right with you?”

  “I thought you gave one of your two slots to Harriet?”

  “They can do the interlude.”

  Odelia smiled and got up. “Thanks, Gran. I’ll tell Dad right now. He’ll be thrilled.”

  “And don’t accuse me of never doing anything for this family!” Gran cried as Odelia left the room. “I’m only making this sacrifice because I care!”

  “Thanks!” she yelled, and hurried into the kitchen to tell her mother the good news.

  20

  That evening, the Poole family was out in full force. Gran and her band were due to perform, and so were Tex and his Singing Doctors. As a reporter for the Hampton Cove Gazette, Odelia had snagged a much-coveted invitation, and as a plus-one to the talent, Marge was also there.

  Odelia had managed to smuggle Dooley and me in via the hotel’s service entrance. No cats or other pets were allowed, not even the pets the stars usually lugged around, like Chihuahuas or pugs or even those potbellied pigs. The only exception to the rule were pets as part of the evening’s entertainment, like Harriet and Brutus, who were now holed up in Gran and Tex’s dressing room. And with them present, Odelia wisely figured we wouldn’t look out of place either. So she’d dropped us off around the corner from the Hampton Cove Star, we’d quickly made our way to the service entrance, and had waited patiently for Odelia to usher us in. Right on schedule the door had opened and Odelia had bundled us both up in her arms and quickly deposited us in Gran’s care.

  I was surprised to find that Harriet was now as nervous as Brutus was. “I can’t do this!” she cried, pacing the room. “People are going to laugh at me! They’re going to think this is all a big joke! Oh, Gran, why did you ever agree to this! Why, oh, why!”

  Tex was also pacing the room, and didn’t look very relaxed either, nor did the two doctors who were part of his band. Denby Jennsen is a man who could have played a part in Grey’s Anatomy, he’s that movie-star handsome, and Cary Horsfield is as distinguished-looking as Tex. All three were dressed in matching charcoal suits.

  Meanwhile, Gran was entertaining her own band, which consisted of half a dozen elderly men, all dressed in white tuxedos. Gran herself looked like a million bucks. Her face was made up, her hair done up, and… she was only wearing white underwear. Lacy bra, lacy panties, silk stockings and even a garter belt. She also wore red stilettos.

  “You can do this, twinkle toes,” said Brutus, affectionately patting Harriet’s paw.

  “They’ll think we’re a pair of freaks! No cats have ever performed live in front of an audience like this, except to jump through hoops or dangle from a trapeze. Why did I ever think this was a good idea?” She directed a dark look at her mate. “Why didn’t you talk me out of this, Brutus. Why?!”

  Dooley and I watched the scene with keen interest. It’s a lot more fun to be in the dressing room before the big show when you’re not an actual part of the lineup.

  “I think Harriet will do great,” I said. “Usually when singers are this nervous it’s because they’re about to blow everyone away.”

  “Or she will be so bad she can already feel it,” Dooley said.

  “That’s also a possibility,” I allowed.

  Whatever the case, a bomb or a hit, the show was bound to be a smash. The local doctor, his elderly mother-in-law and their cats? What more could an audience want?

  We walked out of the dressing room into the corridor and padded towards the stage. Watching on from the wings, I saw that the ballroom was gradually filling up. I could see the Mayor and his wife, and I could see Dan Goory, Odelia’s editor, who was also a guest. He was there along with his wife, who looked resplendent in a shimmering evening gown. In fact I saw pretty much everyone who was someone in Hampton Cove, as well as plenty of the town’s nobodies. I also recognized Laron Weskit and his wife, whose pictures Odelia had shown us. They were seated at the Mayor’s table—guests of honor.

  If we’d wanted to, we could have snuck up to their room right then. But we’d already decided to wait and see the show first. It wasn’t something I was prepared to miss.

  And yet for a moment it looked as if that was exactly what was going to happen, when a man dressed like a bellhop grabbed us both by the necks and growled angrily, “How did you two hairy pests get in here?” and started dragging us away!

  Lucky for us Odelia was also keeping an eye on the proceedings, and quickly negotiated our release. She then bent down, and placed a nice ribbon around my neck, a small card dangling from it, and repeated the procedure on Dooley.

  “There,” she said. “Now no one can accuse you of being interlopers. This makes it clear you’re part of the evening’s entertainment. Oh, and those badges will also grant you access to certain rooms,” she added with a wink. “Don’t lose them, you guys.”

  “We sure won’t,” I said, happy we were in the clear.

  And then it was time for the show to begin. The lights in the ballroom were dimmed, and with stragglers still filing in, the curtains swung open, and Tex appeared on stage.

  “Look, it’s Tex!” Dooley whispered excitedly.

  “I know!” I whispered back, equally excited.

  Next thing we knew, the band launched into a jazzy rendition of My Bonnie Lies over the Ocean, Denby crooning, Tex slapping a drum kit, and Cary plucking at a guitar.

  They didn’t even sound half bad. Dr. Denby, apart from looking like George Clooney in his ER heyday, has one of those rich, deep baritones, and a smile that lights up a room. He did so now, and at the end of the song women clapped excitedly, the husbands less so.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” said Dooley as he put his paws together.

  “Not bad at all,” I agreed, following suit. It’s a pity our paws are outfitted with soft pink pads. It hampers our ability to applaud, but we still gave it our best shot for Tex.

  Next up were Gran and her six Dapper Dans. She’d draped herself across a piano for some reason, and huskily began to sing Like a Virgin. She sounded as if she had a frog in her throat, but maybe that was the style she was going for. The only role the men played was to sing backing vocals (like a vi-i-i-ir-gin) and from time to time lift her off the piano and then to put her back. There was also music playing, probably produced by a tape.