We got out of the car and Gran appeared in the doorway to greet us. And as she walked up to us with a sense of urgency in her step, she lowered her voice and said, “I talked to Allison’s cat and she assures me there’s no way Allison’s niece could have done it.”
“So instead of calling Uncle Alec you called me,” Odelia deduced immediately.
“Of course! If I call Alec he’ll arrest the poor girl on the spot. And no judge will accept the testimony of a cat.”
“Or an old lady claiming she can talk to cats,” said Odelia, nodding.
“Hey. Who are you calling an old lady?”
“Sorry, Gran. So what were you doing here?”
Gran straightened a little. “Well, if you must know, Allison’s been looking for a cat sitter and so I figured I might apply for the job.”
“You want to be a cat sitter?”
Gran bridled. “Why? You don’t think I can do it?”
“No, of course you can, Gran. In fact you’re perfect for the job. But what about Dad?”
“Oh, I’ll keep on doing that, of course. Now are you coming in or what? Standing around here flapping your gums isn’t going to solve poor Kirk Weaver’s murder!”
Chapter 6
“I don’t understand what we’re doing here, snow pea,” said Brutus.
“You’ll understand soon enough, snuggle pooh,” said Harriet, feeling more chipper and bright than she’d felt in ages. She was walking with purpose, a cat on a mission.
“Shouldn’t we have told Max and Dooley what we’re up to? They’re our best friends.”
“Sometimes it’s best for best friends to not be in the know,” she said. “And you know Max. He’ll only start to criticize the scheme.”
“I don’t think so,” said Brutus. “He could even help us. Max knows a lot of stuff.”
“Max is a male, Brutus, and males don’t know half the stuff females do. Besides, who’s going to listen to the advice of a male? No one, that’s who. So let’s keep this between us.”
“All right,” said Brutus, though he didn’t exactly sound convinced.
They’d arrived in town and Harriet plastered a pleasant smile onto her face. This was her moment. Her chance to shine. The only disadvantage was that she’d have to shine anonymously, which is always a tough proposition. But she was going to make it work.
“Let’s talk to Kingman first,” she suggested. “If Kingman knows, the whole town knows.”
“Fine,” said Brutus without much enthusiasm.
So they strode up to Kingman, the big cat lounging in the sun on the pavement in front of his human’s store.
“Hi, Harriet,” he said. “Hey, Brutus. What’s cooking?”
“I’ve just heard the most exciting news,” Harriet began. “Isn’t that right, Brutus?”
“The most exciting news,” Brutus muttered.
“You know the Hampton Cove Gazette advice column?” said Harriet.
“Uh-huh,” said Kingman. “What about it?”
“Well, they’re about to add a second Gabi, only this Gabi isn’t called Gabi but Chloe.” She let that sink in for a moment.
“Chloe, huh?” said Kingman with a yawn. “Great. More dumb answers to dumb questions posted by dumb humans.”
“No, but you see, Chloe isn’t like Gabi. Chloe will be answering questions from pets! Isn’t that exciting?”
“Pets?” asked Kingman with a frown. “Pets can’t write. How are they going to send in their questions?”
“I’ve got that all worked out—I mean Dan Goory, the Gazette’s editor, has got it all worked out—or will, once he gets on board with the exciting new scheme. Pets will talk to correspondents, for instance you, who will relay the questions to me or Brutus, who’ll work with Chloe to figure out the replies and get them ready for publication. It’s going to revolutionize the entire advice column concept!”
“Sure,” said Kingman, not looking convinced. “So pets will talk to me or whoever, we talk to you, and then what? How will you feed those same questions to Chloe?”
“Just leave that to me. I have established a personal connection with Chloe, and I’ll personally introduce the questions to her. Personally.”
“So you know this Chloe, huh?”
“I do,” said Harriet proudly, with a wink to Brutus, which he didn’t return. “And she’s very nice and knowledgeable and she’ll answer your questions with wisdom and tact.”
“She’s wise, this Chloe, is she?”
“She is very wise. Very, very wise. Very, very, very wise. And clever, too.”
“So who is she?” asked Kingman.
“I’m sorry but I can’t tell you that.”
“Is she from around here?”
“Y-yes, she is.”
“And she’s a cat, like us?”
“Mh-mh.”
A slow smile spread across Kingman’s face. “Then I think I know who it is. Typical.”
Harriet gave Kingman a wary look. “You figured it out already?”
“Of course! There’s only one cat in all of Hampton Cove who’s wise and tactful and clever enough to think up such a plan.”
Harriet blinked, warmth spreading through her chest. “I know, right?”
“And there she is now!” said Kingman.
Harriet looked up, and to her utter dismay saw that Shanille had joined them. Shanille, Father Reilly’s cat and cat choir’s resident conductor, didn’t always see eye to eye with Harriet, their disputes mostly centering around Harriet’s desire to be cat choir’s one and only soprano soloist.
“Harriet just told me about the new job,” said Kingman. “Congratulations, Shanille! I’ll spread the word, shall I? Make sure you have plenty of work.”
Shanille gave him a look of confusion. “What job? What work?”
Kingman winked and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Chloe! Need I say more?”
“Yes, you do. Who’s Chloe?”
“Don’t worry. My lips are sealed!” said Kingman.
“I don’t get it,” said Shanille.
Kingman lost some of his bluster. “Oh, don’t you play coy with me, Shanille. Harriet here told me all about it. And as your oldest friend I think you should have told me first.”
“Told you what?!”
“The advice column job!”
Now it was Shanille’s turn to drop her voice to a whisper. “Have you been drinking again, Kingman? You know how I feel about cats and alcohol. Besides, it’s not good for you.”
“I haven’t touched a drop of the stuff, I swear!”
“Well, see that you don’t. A wise cat once told me that when you need alcohol to see you through the day it’s time to turn your face to your Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He’s all the stimulant you need.” She frowned. “Now why are you grinning at me like that?”
“I knew it! You can’t help giving advice even when I didn’t ask for it. You’re a natural, Shanille, and I’m gonna tell this whole town to start sending in their questions.”
“Crazy,” said Shanille as she walked away. “The cat is completely cuckoo.”
Kingman tapped his nose. “Don’t worry, Harriet. Shanille’s secret is safe with me.”
Harriet, following the conversation with rising perturbation, merely groaned. And as she walked off, she wondered why, oh, why she’d ever deemed the pets of Hampton Cove worth saving. Now she’d be doing all the work, with Shanille taking all the credit.
She better ask Gabi what to do. Gabi was smart. Gabi knew.
Chapter 7
“Oh, dear heart, I’m so glad you could make it,” said the woman. Of course Odelia didn’t recognize her, as most of the people who worked for these advice columns did so anonymously, and their pictures were rarely shown, but she assumed this was Allison.
“I came here as fast as I could,” she said, darting a quick glance upstairs, where her grandmother had told her the body of the dead man still lay. “Look, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep the police out of this, Allison.”