Purrfect Obsession

“Not just any dog. A Chihuahua. I’ve seen him. He’s a very sweet and cute little fella. I’m sure you’ll get along great.”

“Chihuahuas are dogs, Odelia,” Dooley pointed out. “And as a rule we’re not all that fond of dogs.”

“We got along fine with the French bulldog that belonged to the Kenspeckles, remember?” said Max.

“That was an exception to the rule,” said Brutus. “Most dogs are terrible creatures.”

“Not this sweet, precious Chihuahua,” Odelia insisted. “He’s just so cute and cuddly and he has the sweetest, kindest disposition. You’ll see. You’ll just love, love, love him.”

All three cats stared at her. Then Max took a deep breath and asked, “You’re not thinking about adopting a dog, are you, Odelia?”

“N-no,” she said, but her hesitation gave her away. They all started howling again, so she held up her hands. “I have no concrete plans in that direction. Honest! But Chase likes dogs, and since he lives here now, it’s only fair to assume that at some point he’ll want to get a dog again. As long as he hadn’t settled down, that was out of the question, but now...”

“Oh, God,” said Max, breathing heavy. “Oh, my God.”

“This is the end,” said Dooley. “Finished. Kaput.”

“I hate my life,” said Brutus. “I just hate it.”

“You guys. I’m not saying we’re going to get a dog right now. At some point in the future, though, we might. Just might. Teensy, tiny chance.” She didn’t want to lie to them, even if they didn’t like it. Chase loved dogs, though, and she did, too. Most people fell into one of two categories: they were either a cat person or a dog person. Odelia, in spite of the fact that she could communicate with cats, loved both. And she was fairly sure that her cats would love whatever dog would grace their home with his or her presence in the future, too.

“Dogs eat babies, you know,” said Dooley. “They do. I saw it on the Discovery channel.”

“You did not,” said Max, then realized what Dooley was trying to accomplish, and quickly changed his tune. “It’s true. Dooley is right. I saw it myself. Dogs are notorious baby eaters. Snack on babies all the time. They like babies even more than bones. Truth.”

“Not funny, Dooley,” said Odelia. “Now are you guys ready? Because as soon as that house is quiet I want to be ready to move. And in order to know when the coast is clear, we’re going to have to go on a stakeout.”

“Stakeout!” Max cried. “Yay!”

“What is a stakeout?” asked Dooley. “Does it involve steak?”

“No, it does not involve steak,” said Odelia. “It involves us sitting and watching in a car and looking at Whitmore Manor until all the lights are out and it’s time to make a move.”

“Is Harriet coming, too?” asked Brutus.

“Of course!” said Odelia. “It wouldn’t be a stakeout if the gang wasn’t all there, right?”

Brutus nodded morosely. The prospect of Harriet joining them didn’t seem to fill him with joy, as she’d expected it would. Then again, her cats were acting weird tonight.

“Max, you better go and fetch Harriet. Tell her to get ready,” she said, then went up the stairs to change into something stakeouty.

Five minutes later, she was dressed in black from head to toe: black leggings, black sneakers, black sweater. And she was toying with a black balaclava she’d once picked up at a second-hand store when suddenly she sensed she was no longer alone. She turned. Chase was studying her from the doorway.

“Going on a stakeout?” he asked, an expression of amusement on his face.

“Um, no, of course not. I’m... taking the cats for a walk.”

“Babe, I may not know a lot about cats but one thing I do know is that you don’t take a cat for a walk.”

“Most cats, no. But my cats are special.”

“That, they are.” He walked up to her and pinned her arms to her side until he’d grasped the balaclava she’d been holding behind her back. He held it up. “Most dog walkers or, if such a thing exists, cat walkers, don’t wear a mask. You’re going to break into Whitmore Manor, aren’t you?”

She laughed what she hoped was a careless laugh. “Of course not! Are you crazy? Why would I go and do a silly thing like that?”

“Because you discovered that Wolf Langdon and Dany Cooper were having an affair and you’re hoping to find out more by breaking into Langdon’s room and digging through his phone.”

She laughed again, with less conviction. “How—how did you know? About the affair, I mean?”

“I’m a detective, Odelia. It’s my job to know stuff like that. And I had a long talk with Langdon’s wife this afternoon, who told me all about the affair. She also mentioned she assumes Langdon and Dany had been sexting a lot, but every time she tried to get her hands on her husband’s phone he made sure he had it on him. He even sleeps with that phone, keeping it tucked away underneath his pillow, his hand on top of it, just in case.”

“That’s very unhealthy. All that radiation.”

“That’s more urban legend than scientific fact, though, isn’t it?”

“Still,” she said, and swallowed. Gazing into Chase’s eyes it wasn’t hard to see why criminals would succumb under the pressure of his quiet determination and confess all.

“All right!” she finally cried, throwing up her hands. “I’m going to stake out Whitmore Manor and break in under the cover of darkness to check out the guy’s phone. So are you going to tell me I can’t go?”

“Of course not. I’m going to tell you I’m coming with you. And I hope you won’t tell your uncle, because this operation will be one hundred percent unsanctioned and if we get caught you’ll have a great front-page story but I’ll probably get fired.”

“I won’t tell my uncle if you won’t,” she said with a low voice and a smile on her face.

He tilted up her chin, then pressed a warm kiss to her lips. “Hey, there, partner in crime,” he murmured. “I missed you tonight.”

“You did? It wasn’t clear from the way you were chatting up that blonde.”

“I wasn’t chatting up that blonde. I was trying to extract information from her.”

“Hard to know the difference.”

“That’s what makes police work so fascinating: nothing is what it seems.”

She smiled. “Do you still prefer brunettes over blondes?”

“I prefer this brunette,” he said, then deepened the kiss.

A soft cough sounded behind them. When they turned, she saw it was Max. He was staring at them with a horrified expression on his furry face. “We’re ready when you are.”

Chapter 20

“I’m only doing this for Odelia,” Harriet said for the tenth time since we’d gotten into Chase’s truck.

The four of us were in the backseat, with Chase at the wheel and Odelia riding shotgun.

“We know you’re only doing this for Odelia,” I said. “And I, for one, think it’s very noble of you to put aside your differences and join us.”

“I haven’t put aside any differences,” said Harriet through gritted teeth. The words came out in a low growl and Chase frowned and checked his rearview mirror.

“One of your cats doesn’t sound happy, babe,” he said.

“Oh, she’s probably nervous, that’s all,” said Odelia.

“Nervous? How can she be nervous? She doesn’t have a clue where we’re going.”

“Cats have an instinct for these things,” she explained.

“Um, I guess,” he said doubtfully. Chase was not a big believer in the abilities of cats to solve murders. Then again, he also had no idea Odelia could understand every word we said and vice versa. Probably best to keep it that way, too, or else he might start interfering in this holy alliance between man and beast, as Tex had once called it.

“The only reason I’m going along on this trip is because Odelia asked me to,” Harriet repeated, in case we hadn’t heard her the first dozen times. “You’re not off the hook, Brutus.”

“I understand that and I regret it deeply,” said Brutus. “What more can I do than to apologize once again for any misunderstanding my behavior may have caused and to—”

“Misunderstanding? That was no misunderstanding. Your nose was practically glued to Darlene’s butt.”

“It was a case of wrong perspective!” he cried.

“Yeah, just keep telling yourself that,” she said, and looked out the window, determined not to give Brutus another glance.

“So what is our mission, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Mission. Nice,” said Brutus with a chuckle. When Harriet shot him a frosty glance, breaking her own rule not to look at him, the chuckle turned into a choked chortle, then quickly died away.

“Our mission—should we choose to accept it—is to talk to that Chihuahua and extract information from the mutt with any means at our disposal.”

“Chihuahua?” said Harriet, looking up in surprise. “Nobody said anything about a dog.”

“A Chihuahua, as Odelia has gone to great pains to explain, is not just any dog. A Chihuahua is a noble breed and amongst the sweetest and most innocuous of its kind. I’m sure we’ll get along great with the little mutt.”

“I’m not going near that dog. No way. Dogs stink.”

In the front seat, Odelia suppressed a snicker, causing Chase to give her a look of concern.

“Dogs don’t stink,” I said, with a glance at the back of Odelia’s head. I was nothing if not a loyal soldier to my general. So I dutifully conveyed her words to the rest of her troops. “A dog may have a very particular odor, but to characterize that odor as foul is in the eye of the beholder.”

“The nose of the beholder, you mean,” said Harriet.

“Right.”

“Dogs stink and I’m not coming near that mutt,” she insisted. “And that’s my final word. If you want to talk to the filthy creature, that’s up to you. But I’m going to look for a more palatable and civilized creature to talk to. Every mansion worth its salt must have a cat roaming around someplace, and I’m going to find it.”

“You just don’t want to be near me. Admit it,” said Brutus with a pained expression.

“I’m not admitting a thing until you admit your nose was so far up Darlene’s butt you could fondle her tonsils.”

“I’m not admitting something that didn’t happen,” said Brutus.

“Oh, you are going to confess, buster.”

“This isn’t a Syrian torture chamber and you can’t make me confess a thing.”

“Confess!” she screamed and flew across Dooley and my laps to tear into Brutus.

It took Odelia a little time to part both cats, and when finally she managed, Brutus had a bloody scratch across his nose and there was a drop of blood on Harriet’s otherwise pristine white fur that hadn’t been there before.

“And now behave, the both of you,” said Odelia in a voice I hadn’t heard her use before. She would have made a great taskmaster, I thought. Or owner of a kennel.

“You scratched me!” Brutus cried, aghast. “You actually drew blood!”

“Serves you right,” said Harriet from her corner.

“My nose! It will never look the same again!”

“Show it to Darlene. Maybe she’ll lick it for you.”

“I’ll have a scar!”

“I’m sure Darlene loves her men scarred.”

“I don’t care about Darlene!”

Dooley and I shared a look of concern. This cold war had just escalated into a full-blown hot war, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. Once the gloves came off, there was no telling whose face Harriet would dig her claws into next. Already she’d determined Dooley and I were collaborating with the enemy, so all bets were off. From now on, no one was safe.

“So how are we going to sneak into the manor?” asked Chase.

“I thought you might have a plan. You’re a cop, after all. Don’t you cops get trained to pick locks and stuff?”

“We do, but since this was your idea I figured you had a plan all cooked up and ready to execute.”

Brutus winced at the mention of the word execute. He darted a quick glance at Harriet, then continued licking his injured nose. For what it was worth, I figured it was only a small price to pay for his stupidity. Everyone in cat choir knew Darlene was a tease and a loose cat and everyone steered clear of her because of that fact. Now Brutus knew, too.

“I figured I’d just... wing it, you know,” said Odelia.

Chase laughed. “Wing it. I like that. Why don’t we simply go in through the basement? When I was checking out the manor this afternoon I noticed the lock is broken on the second basement window from the right. A good shove and we’re in.”

Odelia turned to Chase, a look of surprise on her face. “You were planning this before I even got the idea!”

“I wasn’t planning anything. Just happened to check the perimeter for possible weaknesses and just happened to notice the window.” His grin vanished. “Truth be told, Wolf asked us to give his security team a thorough screening. Dany being killed in broad daylight like that? There is obviously something wrong with the way security is organized.”

“I don’t think Wolf has any security to speak of. At least not that I ever noticed.”

“He has a few people on his payroll, but they’re not highly skilled or organized. I told him to hire a professional crew and that’s what he promised me he’d do.”

“You also told him about the wonky window?”

The grin returned. “I decided to wait until after the new team arrived.” He shrugged. “What? I know how your mind works, babe. You just love this breaking and entering stuff.”

“I do love this breaking and entering stuff,” she admitted. “And you know what else I love right now?”

“I have no idea,” he said, his grin widening.

“You, you big doofus. C’mere.”

“Not while I’m driving, babe.”

“C’mere!”

There ensued yet another one of those scenes that are incredibly awkward for cats to watch.

Humans kissing.

Yuck.

Chapter 21

It was well past midnight now, but the light in some of the windows of Whitmore Manor was still shining as bright as day. Then again, these were creative people. Actors. And clearly actors, like vampires, preferred to live at night and eschew daylight.

“Looks like they’re not asleep yet,” said Chase, glancing up at the three or four lit up windows. He settled back in his car seat, which he’d cranked back. “We’re in for a long wait, babe.”

“I’m going to let the cats out,” she said. “They’re not going to be comfortable cooped up inside the car. And she opened the door to let us out. We jumped at the chance. Well, all of us except Harriet, who still didn’t seem keen to join in the nocturnal adventure.

I gave Odelia a wave of the tail goodbye and she closed the door again. I just knew there would be plenty more nookie and I was glad she’d spared us having to witness it.

“So how are we going to get in?” asked Brutus.

“You heard Chase. There’s a wonky window near the back,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll be able to sneak in that way.”

Chase had parked his car inside the Whitmore Manor domain. Clearly security left something to be desired, judging from the front gate which had been left wide open, and not a single guard placed at the entrance to halt our access to the manor. He’d parked under a big oak tree, to provide himself some measure of cover, and for them the long wait began. For us, the long trek through the manor began, in search of this illustrious Chihuahua.

Dooley and I quickly moved ahead, Harriet and Brutus trailing behind. At a certain point I heard Brutus exclaim, “It was a matter of perspective!” and I shook my head.

“Brutus really is in the doghouse, isn’t he?” Dooley said.

“Or the cathouse, depending on your perspective,” I said, and we both giggled like two silly kittens. Even though Brutus and Harriet might take this thing bloody seriously—literally—that didn’t mean Dooley and I couldn’t extract some merriment from the episode.

We found the window just where Chase had said it was, and snuck into the manor through the crack—dropping gracefully to the cement floor below. It was pretty dusty and dank-smelling in the basement, but then basements usually are.

Odelia had told me Langdon’s bedroom was on the third floor, the last room on the left, so that was our destination. We snuck through the basement, which was just a collection of old furniture covered in white sheets gathering dust, snuck up the stairs, through a long corridor, and up more stairs, these ones marble instead of rickety wood.

Upstairs, we heard laughter and singing coming from one of the rooms, and I quickly snuck a peek. Four or five people were smoking something that had an acrid tinge to it that wasn’t tobacco, and drinking a substance that wasn’t lemonade. They looked as if they were having a whale of a time. They were also partly naked, so I quickly retreated. I’d been forced to witness enough human nookie for one day thank you very much.

The third floor proved more quiet and peaceful than the second, which was a good sign.

“I’m not sure about this, Max,” Dooley said as we tiptoed underneath the portrait of a dour-looking man dressed in a hunter’s outfit. Dogs were converging on a deer, and I felt for the poor deer.

“I’m not too sure about this either,” I admitted. It was all well and good to describe this Chihuahua as a sweetheart and a cutie pie, but dogs are a treacherous breed. They can be sweet and cute one minute, then viciously turn on you the next. I was going to keep my options open and make sure I had my route of escape mapped out just in case.

“Do you think Brutus and Harriet got lost?” he asked as we paused to listen for sounds of human activity.

I glanced back to the stairs. There was no sign of either one of our two friends.

“I just hope they haven’t killed each other,” I said with a twinge of concern. That slash across the nose was still fresh in my mind, and the thought rankled.

“Maybe we should turn back,” said Dooley, glancing up at yet another hunting print, this one depicting a brace of dogs tearing into a poor rabbit. It was definitely a bad omen.

“We need to press on,” I told Dooley. “Odelia expects us to talk to this dog, so we need to talk to this dog.”

We moved along the corridor, which was all dark paneled walls and oak parquet covered with a long and high-pile runner our paws sank into. The smell was musty, either from the smokers on the second floor, or the natural smell of an old manor.

We finally arrived at the last door on the left, and to my relief it was ajar. Cats, as you may or may not know, have a hard time opening doors. At least when they operate on a knob principle. Tough to turn a knob when all you have are soft pink pads, fur and claws.