“But why?” asked Rufus. “They could easily have come in through the field.”
They all stared at the field in question, which was located behind both their backyards and Odelia’s, too. It was a piece of land covered in brambles and overgrown weeds and nettles, and provided the perfect access and egress into all of their backyards.
“Nothing was stolen from your place?” asked Brutus, taking the case in paw.
“Nothing as far as I know,” said Rufus.
“Weird,” said Harriet. “Very weird.”
“Say, listen,” said Brutus, clearing his throat. “Um… you’ve got a pretty solid sense of smell on you, right?”
“I can’t complain,” said Rufus with a smile.
“Well, um… well, see, the thing is, Gran and her friend are launching a neighborhood watch. And so I was wondering…” He coughed nervously. “See, the thing is… we could use someone like you on our team.”
Harriet smiled. It surprised her that her dog-hating mate would suddenly display such a change of heart, but it most definitely pleased her. “Great idea, snuggle bug,” she said. “Brutus is right, Rufus,” she added. “We could use a dog like you on our team.”
“Neighborhood watch, eh?” said Rufus, giving this some thought. “Well, why not,” he said finally. “I’ve always wanted to be a cop dog, and this is probably as close as I’ll get.”
Brutus grinned, and so did Harriet. This was great news. Cats and dogs, fighting crime together as a team. Which reminded her of another idea that had hit her shortly after Max and Dooley had set out for their morning stroll.
“Say, Rufus, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask.”
“Shoot,” said the amiable dog.
“The thing is, you know that Odelia has mice, right?”
“Yeah, you guys told me about that.”
“Well, they’re making an awful mess of the house, and Odelia is fed up and frankly so are we. So I was wondering… Could you drop by one of these days and have a word with them? They don’t seem to respect cats, but maybe they do dogs. Especially as you’re so big and strong and all?”
Rufus grew a few inches as she spoke, and she could have sworn he was blushing. “No, of course,” he said. “If you think it’ll make a difference I’d be more than happy to help.”
“Great,” she said, well pleased. “That’s settled then.”
After Rufus had returned to his own backyard, Brutus turned to her and said, a slight hint of suspicion in his voice, “Why did you ask Rufus to take care of the mice? I thought Odelia had asked Max to deal with them?”
“It’s obvious Max can’t cope, wuggle bear,” she said. “And neither can Dooley. So I thought maybe we should lend them a helping paw. After all, that’s our house, too.”
Brutus didn’t seem to agree. “I still think asking a dog to do a cat’s job is simply wrong. Besides, we’re going to owe him big time. And I hate to be indebted to a dog.”
“Oh, don’t be such a prig, Brutus,” said Harriet. “Dogs are God’s creatures, too, you know. And Rufus is a nice dog, as dogs go.”
“He is nice,” Brutus agreed, then gave her a curious look. “Maybe a little too nice.”
She stared at her mate, then broke into an incredulous bark of laughter. “Brutus, you’re not jealous, are you?”
“Of course not,” he said gruffly, staring at the ground.
“You are! I don’t believe this. Jealous of a dog!”
Brutus shrugged. “So what if I’m jealous? Clearly that dog likes you.”
“He doesn’t like me like that, you fool!” she cried, but felt touched by Brutus’s behavior. So she planted a gentle kiss on his brow, which was puckered with worry. “Oh, sugar plum,” she said. “I only love you, you foolish tomcat. Don’t you know that by now?”
“I guess sometimes I don’t,” he murmured.
“Here, look at me,” she said, and tilted his head. “You’re the only one for me, cuddle cakes.”
He smiled then, and they kissed.
Chapter 8
Marge was leafing through a Jackie Collins book, to see if there weren’t any pages ripped out or remnants of food left when old Mrs. Samson walked into the library, carrying her usual shopping bag full of books.
Mrs. Samson was a little old lady and one of Marge’s regulars. She came in almost weekly, and judging by the number of books she read probably did little else but read.
“All finished already, Mrs. Samson?” asked Marge pleasantly.
“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Samson, twin blushes on her cheeks as usual. She preferred to read the saucy romance novels—in fact the saucier the better. “Anything new?”
“I put a couple of books aside for you that I think you might like.”
“Oh, goodie,” said Mrs. Samson, and followed Marge to the counter.
Marge dove underneath her desk and brought out a nice pile of books she hoped would satisfy her customer’s voracious reading appetite.
Mrs. Samson picked up the first book and studied the bare-chested male on the cover. Her blush deepened. “Now doesn’t this look nice,” she murmured. “Is it very steamy?”
“As steamy as it gets,” said Marge with a smile. She was well aware of the woman’s predilection by now, and since she always feared she’d run out of books for the old lady to read kept stocking up on the more steamy segment as much as her budget allowed.
“Thanks, Marge,” said Mrs. Samson, displaying a toothy grin. Then she placed her bag on the counter and Marge proceeded to scan the books while Mrs. Samson disappeared between the rows of bookcases in search of more reading material.
And as Marge placed the books Mrs. Samson had checked in on the book cart, her mind returned to the topic that had been engaging her for the last couple of weeks: her daughter’s upcoming nuptials.
The topic had created a certain amount of tension between mother and daughter. Marge wanted to organize a big wedding for her only child, while Odelia herself, and her future husband, wanted to keep things small. They only wanted to invite a couple of friends and their nearest relatives and have them all over for dinner at the house.
At the house! Marge had already explained to Odelia how they couldn’t possibly all fit, but her daughter insisted they could, at least the number of people she had in mind.
Marge, on the other hand, wanted to do things in style and hire a wedding planner and book a nice venue. Though how they were going to get a good place this late in the proceedings was beyond her. She’d advised Odelia and Chase to put the wedding off until the spring, or even the summer, and take their time to do things properly.
Odelia wouldn’t hear of it, though, and said she’d always dreamed of a small affair with only her nearest and dearest.
And while Marge could see where she was coming from, she insisted they needed to involve the town. She hoped and prayed that Odelia would only marry once, and she wanted to make it a day to remember. If they did things Odelia’s way she feared her daughter might regret it later, and Marge wanted to avoid that at all cost. Well, not at all cost, necessarily, but still. She’d talked it over with Tex and they were prepared to pay for the whole thing. It had created another point of contention, as Odelia didn’t want to hear of it. She and Chase were going to pay and no one else.
Marge sighed as she placed a book on wedding etiquette on the cart and started pushing it in the direction of the racks of books. And she’d just started replacing the books in their designated spots when the library doors swung open and Vesta and Scarlett walked in.
Even though Marge had welcomed the fact that her mother had reconciled with her friend, sometimes she wondered if this newfound friendship wasn’t actually a bad thing. Vesta by herself could do a lot of damage, and now that she’d found herself a partner in crime things could be exponentially worse.
“Marge!” Vesta yelled. “Marge, show yourself. Oh, there you are. Trouble in paradise, honey. It looks as if Dan killed some woman—probably his secret girlfriend. And you know what that means, don’t you? Doom and gloom.”