“So… can you guarantee us this won’t happen again?” I asked.
“You have my word, Max,” said Hector, holding up a small paw. “I believe in being neighborly, and I hope you feel the same way.”
“Well, I do, actually,” I said, much relieved as I tapped his paw. “I mean, if you promise to keep the house free of bugs and roaches, I don’t see why we all can’t live together.”
“In perfect harmony,” Dooley sang softly.
“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Hector, looking pleased, his nose twitching happily.
“Now if there’s nothing further, I’m going back to sleep,” said his wife. “I have an early day tomorrow, and it’s very late already. So goodnight, cats. And goodnight, kids.”
“Goodnight, Ma,” said the kids. “Goodnight, Pa.”
And before I could say anything more, Helga and her offspring were gone. One moment they were there, the next they’d disappeared into the walls.
“So are we good?” asked Hector anxiously.
“Yeah, we’re good,” I said. “I’ll tell Odelia she doesn’t have anything to worry about.”
“Odelia is the homeowner?”
“Yeah, she is. She’s nice. She’s not going to try and kill you with poison or whatever.”
“You’re pretty exceptional cats yourselves. You don’t hunt mice, like most cats do?”
“No, we don’t believe in that sort of thing,” I said.
“We’re humanists,” Dooley explained.
“Admirable,” said Hector.
“Oh, one more question,” I said. “A couple of months ago there was a family of mice living next door. That wasn’t you guys, was it?”
“No, that was Molly and Rupert.” He sniffed. “We don’t like Rupert. He’s a distant cousin thrice removed, but hasn’t got the same high standards and values we have. He’s more what you might call a squatter, and for that reason gets kicked out of his home on a regular basis. We believe in keeping ourselves to ourselves, and not making trouble.”
“It’s better this way,” I said.
“Much better,” Dooley agreed.
“Okay, well, sleep tight, fellas. And don’t let the bed bugs bite. And if they do, just tell me and I’ll gladly take them off your paws.” And laughing at his own little joke, he retreated, and once again the basement was quiet as a… mouse.
And as Dooley and I trudged up the stairs again, he whispered, “Very nice people, these mice, Max.”
And I had to admit that he was right. They were very nice. And they’d just saved us a lot of trouble.
“You see, Dooley,” I said. “Not all cats show brute force when fighting a mouse infestation. Some cats show kindness, decency and respect, and it gets you just as far.”
“Or even further.”
“Or even further,” I agreed.
I just hoped Hector and Helga would be able to keep their rambunctious family on a tight rein.
Chapter 30
Scarlett Canyon woke up from an incessant ringing, and glanced over to her nightstand, wondering if by some act of stupidity she’d put her alarm clock last night. But then she remembered she hadn’t owned an alarm clock in years. When she retired she’d thrown it in the trash and good riddance, too. After selling clothes for a living for over forty years, enough was enough.
She picked up her phone and saw that it was only five o’clock, and realized simultaneously that it was actually her doorbell that was ringing, and not her alarm.
Now what kind of fool could be ringing her doorbell at such an ungodly hour?
Cursing, she got out of bed, removed the hair cover that kept her platinum perm in position, and removed the gel mask that kept her face in position.
Staggering across the bedroom floor, she grabbed her nightgown, cinched the strap, and walked to the front door of her apartment. Peeking through the little peephole, she was surprised to find Vesta Muffin standing on her doorstep.
Relief, too, though, if she had to be honest. At least it wasn’t some Jack the Ripper wannabe come to carve her up, or the taxman to announce that the IRS had had another look at her file and decided she owed a couple of thousand dollars in back taxes.
So she opened the door and said in merry voice, “Don’t tell me you found a clue and couldn’t wait to tell me!”
But Vesta’s face spelled storm, and Scarlett’s own face sagged, in spite of the fancy treatments she paid to keep it scaffolded in place. “I want a word with you,” said Vesta, and stomped in without waiting for an invitation.
Scarlett rolled her eyes, and muttered, “Here we go again.” She closed the door and followed her surprise guest into the living room. “What is it this time?” she asked. “Let me guess. Dan decided to give me a raise and not you and now you’re upset.”
“You’ve been sabotaging me,” said Vesta, wagging a pointy finger in her face. “And you thought I wouldn’t notice. Huh!”
“Sabotaging you? I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I can already tell you I don’t like to be accused of stuff I didn’t do.”
“You’ve been answering my family’s letters, pretending that these answers came from me, and giving them asinine advice.”
Scarlett shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Here. Listen to this,” said Vesta, and took out her phone. “My daughter wrote asking about a trip to Europe she’d like to take with her husband. Your response? ‘Screw your trip to Europe. Why are you being so selfish? Your brother wants to run for mayor and your job should be to help him since he’s not doing a damn thing about it himself.’”
Scarlett smiled. She couldn’t help it. It had the effect of a red flag on a bull, though.
“You did it on purpose! You tried to push me out! Admit it!”
Scarlett held up her hands. “Okay, all right! Dan told me he was hiring a second Gabi and when I discovered it was you I figured I needed to get rid of you as fast as I could!”
“But you told me two days ago you didn’t know he’d hired a second Gabi!”
“I lied, all right. He told me so I got nervous. And then I happened to look at his computer one day and saw your name and got even more nervous.”
“But why? There’s plenty of work for the two of us.”
“I panicked, okay! I just figured that if you came on board and Dan saw the quality of your responses, he’d soon realize you were the better Gabi and can my ass. So I decided to get rid of you before you got rid of me. Call it self-defense, but yeah, basically I tried to screw you over.”
She was standing, arms across her chest, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing. For some reason Vesta always managed to get a rise out of her.
“You tried to get me canned because you thought I was better than you? That’s just crazy!”
“Yeah, well, I read some of your stuff and it was pretty darn good.”
“I thought the same thing when I saw your stuff. I thought I could never beat you, so I did my best to live up to the standard you set.”
Scarlett looked up at this. “You thought my stuff was good?”
“Of course I did! The things you told Mrs. Baumgartner about her hypochondria was brilliant. And it worked! She hasn’t been in for days now. Used to be she was there every single day.”
“Yeah, I was kinda proud of that one,” said Scarlett.
“You’re good, Scarlett, so there really was no need to go after me.”
“Well, to be honest, I haven’t gone after you since we started working together on the Kirk Weaver case. Those answers were all written when I still hated your guts.”
“And when I still hated your guts,” said Vesta.
They stared at each other for a moment, then both burst out laughing. “We’re two crazy old bitches, aren’t we?” said Scarlett.
“Speak for yourself, you crazy old bitch,” said Vesta, and added, “You know I’ve enjoyed these last two days, working this case together. I’d forgotten how much fun we used to have, before Jack came between us.”