Dooley studied me for a moment. “So… you never had cancer?”
“No, I never had cancer, Dooley.”
Now it was his turn to smile. “That makes me happy.”
“Which in turn makes me happy.”
“Oh, could you guys cut it out already?” said Harriet, who can never stand too much happiness in one gulp.
We were sitting in our usual place, on the porch swing, while all around us a family feast was in full swing. Tex was manning the barbecue, his tongue sticking out of his mouth from the effort he was putting into the thing, and it had to be said, the man was steadily improving. He’d probably never be Guy Fieri but at least the food was edible.
“You still haven’t explained what happened,” said Harriet, who hated to be kept in the dark.
“Well, Jacqueline Goossens was in fact Maria Power, cleverly disguised so she could mingle with the common people, as she probably saw it.”
“And to commit the odd murder,” Brutus grunted.
“So Maria Power, famous Maria Power, is a killer?” asked Harriet, surprised.
“Yes, she is, and she almost killed Odelia,” I said.
“Let’s not linger on that,” said Marge, who’d joined us for a moment so she could dispense some of her husband’s cooking. “Odelia is safe and sound and so are all of us.”
“And Dan?” asked Harriet. “Is he all right?”
“Yeah, my brother released him from prison as soon as Maria confessed, and he’s already rustling up bids from respective publishers who are all clamoring for his autobiography. He’s calling it, ‘Scenes from the Slammer.’” Marge smiled. “I’m sure it’ll be a bestseller.”
“Of course I always knew Dan was innocent,” said Uncle Alec now, as he addressed the others. “But what could I do? All the evidence pointed against the guy.”
“You thought he was guilty, Alec,” said Charlene. “Admit it.”
“Well, yes, at first I did, and then I didn’t… and then I did. It’s complicated,” he said in a blustering kind of way, and helped himself to another piece of steak, which Charlene immediately removed from his plate and returned to sender.
When he gave her a look of astonishment, she patted his belly. “I like you very much, my pet, and therefore I hope to have you with us for a very long time to come. And if you keep digging your grave with your teeth like that, that’s not going to happen, is it now?”
“I guess not,” he grumbled, looking distinctly unhappy.
“I think if Charlene keeps taking Uncle Alec’s plate away like that, their relationship isn’t going to last very long,” Brutus remarked.
“He doesn’t look happy,” Dooley said thoughtfully. “Do you think he’s got cancer?”
“Oh, Dooley!” Harriet cried. “Enough already with the cancer!”
Dooley gave her a slightly offended frown, then tucked into his own bowl of goodies, which, I can happily report, were in no immediate danger of being stolen by a horde of voracious and frankly very disrespectful mice.
“What’s going to happen to Hector and Helga?” asked Harriet, as if she’d read my mind.
“They’ll remain in that field, and if they don’t behave they’ll be kicked out of there as well,” I said. “Clarice will make sure of that.”
We all directed a curious glance at the field in question, and more in particular at the ramshackle wooden structure Jackson Browne erected to protect his sheep when it rains or storms. I think we all thought the same thing: how long was this new arrangement going to hold? Hector and Helga aren’t exactly trustworthy mice, it has to be said.
“So when Jack Warner announced to the hotel receptionist at the Star that this was the best day of his life,” said Marge, “he wasn’t actually referring to his meeting with Dan?”
“No, he was not,” said Odelia. “He was referring to his meeting with Maria, the star he’d admired all these years, and with whom he finally had managed to snag a date.”
“Snag isn’t the right word,” said Chase. “Blackmail is the word that comes to mind.”
“He got what he deserved,” was Gran’s opinion. “Men like that always meet a sticky end.”
“What happened to Flint and Bart?” asked Scarlett. “Are they still in jail?”
“Nah. They’re minors,” said Uncle Alec. “Can’t keep ‘em. They’ll appear before a juvie judge, who’ll decide what to do with those two rascals.”
“It was a neat little plan they hatched,” said Gran. “Stealing gnomes and dumping them squarely in Ted Trapper’s lap.”
“Neat is not the word I’d use,” Uncle Alec growled.
“Pity that Maria Power turned out to be a homicidal maniac,” said Charlene with a sigh. “Now we’ll never be able to organize a film retrospective again. Plus, since she lived in our town we’ll be tarred with the same brush for a very long time to come.”
“Yeah, I can imagine the whole thing is a PR nightmare for a mayor,” said Marge with concern.
“Oh, we’ll live,” said Charlene with a smile. “In fact it might be a boon for Hampton Cove. Disaster tourism is a real thing, you know.”
“Odelia,” said Marge, taking a seat. “About the wedding. I’ve found the greatest wedding planner. Marina Swath told me she’s simply the best, and surprisingly affordable, too.”
“No, Mom. I told you Chase and I want a small wedding. Not a big production.”
“But, honey!”
Odelia placed her hand on her mother’s arm. “All we want is to say ‘I do’ in front of my family and friends, Mom. It’s as simple as that.”
Marge sighed. “I know, but…”
“Burger up!” Tex yelled, and suddenly a burger was zooming through the air. We all followed it with our eyes, until the scalding hot patty landed with a squelching sound on Uncle Alec’s practically bald pate. It sizzled, and smoke rose up from the Chief’s head.
The big man screamed, and quick as a flash slapped it away.
“Oops,” said Tex. “I was aiming for your plate, Alec, not your pate.”
“It hurts!” Uncle Alec cried, tears actually forming in his eyes. “It hurts bad!”
“Oh, my teddy bear,” said Charlene, then took the burger patty where it had landed on the table, placed it on the Chief’s plate and handed it to him. “You eat this while I go and get some ice.”
“Thanks,” he said, surprised by this unexpected treat. And while Marge and Charlene disappeared into the house to get some ice and a towel, the cop gave Tex two thumbs up. The patty might have scalded his own patty, but it had clearly proved a hit.
“I like it when everybody’s happy,” Dooley declared. “Cancer doesn’t stand a chance when we’re all smiling and having fun.”
“Oh, Dooley,” Harriet groaned.
“No, but it’s true. And to prove to you I’m right, I’m going to tell you another joke. A priest, a rabbi and a rabbit walk into a bar. ‘Dang it’s hot in here,’ says the rabbit. ‘Must be your imagination,’ says the priest. ‘No, it’s your imagination,’ says the rabbit. ‘Why is that?’ asks the rabbi. ‘Ever met a talking rabbit before?’”
It wasn’t a good joke, but I think you have to admit it wasn’t a bad one either. I laughed, and so did Harriet and Brutus. And Dooley? He laughed the loudest of us all.
And if joy and happiness are an indication of good health, I think it’s safe to say that my friend is the healthiest cat alive. Even if his jokes need work. A lot of work.
THE END
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Excerpt from Purrfect Cover (The Mysteries of Max 25)