by Nic Saint
“Look!” I hissed, my tail quivering in horror. “Look who’s there!”
Dooley glanced over, and did a double take that practically landed him from the sidewalk into the gutter. “Oh. My. God! You were right! Harriet is falling for the creep! No wonder she was defending him! She likes that cat!”
“What’s not to like?” I asked bitterly. “He’s an alpha male, remember?”
But Dooley, who’d been on the fence about Brutus before, now seemed to have had a change of heart. Maybe the fact that he’d always been sweet on Harriet had something to do with it. “How dare he?!” he cried. “How dare he barge in here and steal our queens! I’ll show that damn tom!”
“Well, technically Harriet’s not a queen,” I started to say, but Dooley was already stalking in the direction of the love birds—or rather love cats.
Dutifully, I followed in his pawsteps. I couldn’t very well let him handle Brutus all by himself. As his friend and sometimes housemate I needed to have his back, like I was sure he’d have my back if something ever happened to me. It’s not a strict rule with us cats, mind you. Usually we only have our own backs, and don’t care too much about other cats. We’re not dumb herd animals like dogs. We’re solitary hunters, and used to taking care of number one. But Dooley was my buddy, and I needed to protect him from this brute.
“Dooley! Wait!” I yelled therefore, and shot across the street after him, after looking left and right. I may be a good Samaritan, but I’m not suicidal.
When I arrived on the other side of the road, Dooley was already engaging Brutus in open warfare, while Harriet seemed taken aback by this sudden vehemence her usually placid housemate suddenly displayed.
“How dare you?!” he was yelling at Brutus, even going so far as to tap him smartly on the chest. “How dare you breeze into town and take… our stuff,” he lamely added with a quick glance at Harriet. “You can’t do that!”
But Brutus wasn’t the least bit disconcerted by this sudden sign of a local uprising. Mel Gibson, had he been present at the scene, war paint and all, would have taken charge, and destroyed this nasty interloper once and for all. But Dooley was no Mel Gibson, and Brutus had no trouble putting him in his place. “Look, you moron,” he said, disdainfully swatting away Dooley’s paw. “Things are going to change around here, so you better get used to it.”
“We’ll see about that!” Dooley cried bravely.
“My human is in charge now, with your human playing second fiddle. Chase Kingsley is running this town now, and so am I, and if you want to survive under my regime, you better do as I say or else.” He then turned to Harriet and added, “Come on, toots. Don’t listen to this riffraff.”
“Who are you calling riffraff?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Why don’t you cut this loser loose, Harriet? Tell him where he can put his new regime.”
“Yeah, tell him, Harriet,” Dooley said. “Tell him we’re your best friends and that we’re in charge of this place, not him.”
Brutus turned to Harriet. “Remember what I promised you, sweetie pie. Fresh raw meat. An all-you-can-eat buffet of fresh raw meat. Just think what it’ll do to your coat. It’ll be even prettier and shinier than it is now already.”
Harriet’s eyes glittered at the prospect of fresh raw meat, and not the kibble Marge always gave her, and she tilted her chin. “Sorry, guys,” she said. “But it looks like things are changing in this town, and either you adapt… or you perish.” She shrugged. “It’s a law of nature, or didn’t you know?”
“But Harriet!” said Dooley, looking thoroughly confused now, and extremely disappointed by this behavior from one he’d always admired from afar. Well, not afar, exactly, as he’d been living with Harriet all his life, but you catch my drift. “You can’t go with this cat. He—he—he’s a… Damien!”
Brutus narrowed his eyes. “What are you calling me, gib?”
Dooley winced. “Damien?”
“It’s just a dumb movie,” Harriet explained. “Let’s go, Brutus.”
Brutus stared at Dooley for a few seconds more, with Dooley appearing to shrink inside his fur. Finally, content that he’d once again destroyed the competition with the mere power of his presence, Brutus gave us both a nasty grin, clicked his tongue, cocked a nail at us and strutted off with Harriet.
“This isn’t fair, Max,” said Dooley plaintively. “He can’t do this.”
“Well, he just did,” I said as I glared after the couple.
“But he can’t just take Harriet! What’s Marge gonna say?”
“Marge is going to discover a cuckoo has taken over the nest. I have a strong suspicion Brutus is extending his dominion to both our backyards.”
Dooley looked up in abject alarm. “He’s moving in.”
“Not moving in, exactly, as he won’t want to exchange his all-you-can-eat meat buffets for Marge’s kibble, but we’ll be seeing a lot more of him from now on.” I sighed despondently. “We better face it, Dooley. Our little band of three has just turned into a foursome. And judging from this small preview, we won’t be the top cats. More like the downtrodden ones.”
“But I don’t want to be the undercat!” cried Dooley.
“Well, you’re going to be, if Brutus has his way.”
Dooley stared after Brutus and Harriet as they strutted their stuff without holding back, giggling and prancing like a couple of love cats.
“I like Harriet,” said Dooley sadly. “I like her a lot. And I always thought that over time she’d learn to like me, too. I guess I was wrong, huh?”
I shook my head. “Where does he come off, calling you a gib?”
“Did he say that? I didn’t even notice,” said Dooley, with a hangcat expression on his face.
Suddenly I got an idea. “Do you know if Brutus is neutered?”
“How would I know? I didn’t check… down there.”
“Maybe that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Everything! His aggressive nature. The way Harriet is completely smitten with him. The way he’s taken over this town… That cat,” I said, pointing a paw at Brutus’s retreating back, “has not been fixed, Dooley. Which is a clear violation of the rules and regulations of this town.”
“You think we should tell someone?”
“I think it’s our sacred duty, Dooley,” I declared.
The light of hope was gleaming in my friend’s eyes. “What if we told Odelia? And she told Chief Alec? Who told Chase?”
“He’d have no choice but to have Brutus neutered,” I said with a grin.
“That would change his tune.”
“Bring him down a peg. Or two.”
“Or three or four.”
“Two, Dooley. Even Brutus only has two… you know.”
“Oh! Right. Of course. Two it is.”
“It might even make Harriet fall out of love with the guy.”
“Like you said, Max, it is our sacred duty to make sure the law is upheld.”
“And even more so since Brutus is an officer of that same law.”
I held up my paw, and Dooley slapped it in a genuine and heartfelt high-five. “Let’s get this cat fixed, buddy,” said Dooley, his despondency gone.
And so we set out on a new mission, and set paw for the newspaper, where we hoped to find Odelia. It was a good thing that Dan always liked to leave the door to the office open, so we waltzed in and went straight for Odelia’s office, where we found her checking something on her computer.
“Odelia, have we got news for you!” I announced our presence.
“Oh, hey, Max. Dooley. I don’t have a lot of time, guys. I’m on my way to Uncle Alec for an update on the murder case.”
“We’ll keep it brief,” I promised her, and proceeded to give her a quick summary of the conversation between Chase and Tex. To say that she was surprised was an understatement. Apparently this was all news to her, which was gratifying, of course. But when we added the even more stunning scoop that Brutus wasn’t neutered, sh
e suddenly lost interest. But isn’t that always the case? Cats are only interested in cats, and humans in humans. It’s simply the way the cookie crumbles. So when I told her to tell Chief Alec about Brutus’s unneutered state, she merely mumbled something under her breath, grabbed her clutch from the desk and waltzed out without another word.
“Do you think we got the message across?” asked Dooley.
“I think we’ll need to follow up on that one,” I told him.
“I think so, too. Somehow I don’t think she grasped the significance.”
Humans. They’re perfectly nice people, but you gotta watch them.
Chapter 11
“Poole,” Odelia said. “My name is Poole. Odelia Poole.”
She stared annoyedly at the mayor’s secretary. The woman was new, and apparently didn’t know who she was. Odelia was anxious to have a word with the mayor’s wife, who she knew had an office right next to her husband, from where she coordinated Hampton Cove’s beautification committee. She needed her to confirm Aissa’s story so she could take her off the suspect list.
Upon leaving the newspaper, she’d popped into the police station to have a word with Uncle Alec, but unfortunately he’d proved unavailable. According to Dolores he’d been summoned to the mayor’s office to give an update on the Paulo Frey case, a case destined to shake this small town to its foundations. Not only were murders pretty rare around here, but a celebrity writer being murdered was unheard of. If one celebrity got killed, it was bound to give other celebrities ideas, and soon they would start avoiding this town en masse, which was definitely bad for business.
“I’m sorry, Miss Poole,” the secretary said, “but the mayor is busy right now, and so is his wife.”
She nodded, wondering whether the mayor’s wife was busy with Chase. If he followed the same pattern she did, he probably was in there questioning her right now. If only she could skip one step and go straight to the next suspect, she could get ahead of him, and solve this murder before he did. Wouldn’t it be fun if he read in his morning paper who Paulo Frey’s murderer was? That would make him feel pretty stupid, wouldn’t it?
So she decided not to wait for the mayor’s wife, and to simply assume Aissa hadn’t lied about her alibi. She checked her notes, and saw that the next person to talk to was Gabby Cleret, the well-known Hollywood actress.
She’d left her pickup parked in front of her father’s office, and now quickly returned there to fetch it. And as she did, she saw that her father had just stepped out of his office and was on his way back from the hardware store next door, carrying what looked like a big roll of screen.
“Hey, honey,” he said when he saw her. “We keep running into each other today, don’t we?”
“It’s a small town, Dad,” she said, then gestured at the roll of screen. “What are you up to?”
“Oh, I promised your mother I’d finally fix that screen door. It’s been broken ever since your cat destroyed it last summer.”
“My cat? Wasn’t it your cat who jumped on the screen and ripped it to shreds?”
He grinned. “I think they all played an equal part in its destruction. Oh, before I forget,” he said as she made to go to her pickup. “There’s something I need you to do for me.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know if you met him, but your uncle Alec hired a new cop. His name is Chase Kingsley and he just arrived in town a couple of days ago.”
Her lips tightened and she crossed her arms as she leaned back against her car. “We’ve met.”
He flashed her a grin. “Oh, that’s right. Chase told me you did.”
“Did he now?”
“Uh-huh. He was in here just now for a, um, consultation. The thing is, Chase used to work as a cop in New York, and got in trouble over some business out there. It’s no great secret, as it’s been all over the New York papers a couple of months ago. He was dishonorably discharged from the NYPD,” he said, also leaning against the car.
“Yes, I know,” she said tersely. She could hardly tell her dad that she also knew all about the conversation he’d had with Chase in his office. It had certainly made her think. If it was true that he’d been framed, it changed everything. But she hadn’t made up her mind that he’d been telling the truth.
A few passersby nodded friendly greetings at father and daughter Poole, and Tex greeted them back jovially while Odelia merely glared at them. She knew exactly what her dad was going to ask her to do, and she’d been dreading the moment ever since Max and Dooley had told her about it.
“Look, I’d like to correct the impression that Chase is some kind of bad apple,” said Tex. “I can’t go into too much detail without divulging certain confidential information that’s strictly between my patient and me, but…”
“Just spit it out, Dad. What is it you want to tell me?”
“Chase has been wronged, honey. That story about him assaulting a suspect’s wife? That’s just a load of poppycock. So I told him I’d talk to you, Hampton Cove’s premier reporter, and convince you to help spread the word that Chase Kingsley is a fine, upstanding citizen and a great cop, and that whole nonsense about his dismissal is simply one big misunderstanding.”
“I don’t know, Dad,” she said, shaking her head. “Are you saying he didn’t assault that woman?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. And what Chase is saying.”
“And you believe him?”
“I most certainly do.”
She shook her head again. Dad was always a sucker for a sob story. Whereas she was a hard-nosed reporter, he believed anything. As she saw it, it was Chase’s word against the woman he’d allegedly molested, so who was she to believe? This far-fetched tale about him catching the commissioner and the mayor’s wife in the act? Or the official story as it had appeared in an NYPD statement and accurately had been reported in the news? Tough choice. But judging from what she’d seen of Chase Kingsley so far, she was inclined to go with the molestation story. The guy was simply bad news.
“So what I want you to do is write a nice little piece, extolling Chase’s virtues, so to speak, and spread the rumor that his dismissal was a mistake.”
“What mistake? Why would the NYPD fire a cop for no reason?”
“I, um…” Her dad quickly glanced around, then said in hushed tones, “Let’s just say he saw certain things he wasn’t supposed to see.”
“What things?” she insisted. She wanted this on the record, so she could use it in a story if she had to.
He stared at her for a moment. “I keep forgetting what a tough reporter you are, honey. Is this the way you conduct all your interviews?”
“Of course. I’m a professional, Dad.”
“Right. Um…” He scratched his scalp, obviously torn.
“I’ll tell you what I heard,” she said, feeling sorry for him. “I heard Chase caught the commissioner and the mayor’s wife making whoopee in his office. So to make sure nobody would believe him if he talked, they bribed this suspect’s wife to fabricate a story about him that got him fired. Am I close?”
He stared at her. “My God, honey. You are good. Who told you?”
She shrugged. “I’ve got my sources. The big question is: do you believe him?”
“Of course I do.”
“What if he’s lying? What if the story is true and he really assaulted that woman? And this whole story about the mayor’s wife is something he made up to protect his reputation and make sure he can work as a cop again?”
Tex shook his white-haired head. “People don’t fool me that easily, honey. I’ve been treating patients for three decades. Trust me, by now I know if they’re lying or not. It’s called intuition, and after so many years I’ve got it in spades.” He stared at her. “You seem adamant to believe the worst about Chase, though. How come?”
“We met this morning in Uncle Alec’s office and he took an instant dislike to me and I to him.”
“You got off on the wrong foot, that’s all.
Once you get to know him, you’ll see he’s a great guy. And, I’m sure, a very talented police officer.”
“I just wish he would let me in on the murder investigation.”
“What murder investigation is that?”
“Haven’t you heard? Paulo Frey was murdered. They found his body yesterday out at the Writer’s Lodge.”
“The writer that disappeared?”
She nodded. “Dan asked me to write the story.”
“And Chase doesn’t want you interfering with the investigation.”
“Nope. He feels reporters have no place in a murder investigation.”
“Well, I can certainly understand his aversion to reporters,” said Tex.
“You mean because of that hatchet piece that appeared in the Post?”
Her father nodded sagely, and gave her a grim smile. “He probably feels that that article sealed the deal on his career. Made him persona non grata.”
Her dad had a point. Chase would have an ax to grind with reporters. Unless the assault charges were true. In that case he simply didn’t want reporters snooping around and discovering other dark secrets from his past.
“I don’t know, Dad,” she said, shaking her head.
“You won’t spread the story that Chase was framed?”
“I don’t see how I can. Not unless I know for sure.”
He sighed. “Fair enough. Always check your sources, huh?”
“Exactly. Imagine I spread the story that Chase is innocent, and it turns out he’s been playing us for a fool. That would ruin my reputation.”
“Like I said, honey,” said her father, straightening. He fixed her with a kindly look. “After all these years, nobody takes me for a fool. Trust me. But if you feel you can’t do this in good conscience, then simply don’t.”
“You know what? I’ll do a little digging. See if I can’t find someone to corroborate Chase’s story. If the commissioner and the mayor’s wife are having an affair, I’m sure Chase isn’t the only one who knows about it.”