“It did establish you as a star,” Chase pointed out. He’d clearly been reading up on Miss Power’s career.
“Yes, that’s about the only positive aspect of the matter. Apart from that, I’d much rather forget about the whole thing—only those damned Gnomeos will never let me. I suppose I should be grateful, but I fail to see the point. Now if there’s nothing further…”
She got up, a clear indication the interview was over, as far as she was concerned.
“I’d like to thank you for your time,” said Uncle Alec, also getting up. “It’s been an honor. I’m a big fan,” he added, then took out his phone. “A selfie, maybe?”
But the look of disapproval on Miss Power’s face and the curt shake of the head soon made it clear there would be no selfies taken today—or any other day.
Five minutes later they’d all been ushered out, slightly reeling from the speed with which they’d been shown the door. It was clear that Maria Power was done with her own past, and she didn’t appreciate being dragged back to it.
“I don’t think she’s a fan of her own fan clubs,” said Chase, stating the obvious.
“No, she made that pretty clear,” said Odelia.
“Pity,” said Uncle Alec. “It would have been nice to welcome her as the guest of honor at the retrospective. It would be a big boost for the town. Charlene asked me specifically to pose the question, but I guess I’ll have to disappoint her.”
The prospect of Maria Power showing her famous face at a retrospective of her own work was an exciting one, but also, it now seemed, highly unlikely.
Odelia glanced around, wondering where her cats were. Too bad she hadn’t been able to take them inside. Then again, since the interview had been an absolute bust, there probably wasn’t much they could have learned either.
“Max!” she called out. “Dooley! Where are you guys!”
When after a couple of minutes they still hadn’t answered her call, she was starting to get a little worried. And when Miss Power appeared in the window and made an angry sign for them to leave already, her heart sank. She hated leaving without Max and Dooley. Then again, they couldn’t very well stick around against the actress’s wishes.
So it was with a heavy heart that she got into the car, and Chase drove off.
She hoped her cats would be fine… and find their way home all right.
Chapter 24
It didn’t take us long to discover that Maria Power was a movie star unlike other movie stars. For one thing we found no trace of a pool behind the house, or a Jacuzzi or sauna. The gardens were also pretty straightforward for a member of the Hollywood elite. No private zoo, no exotic animals lurking anywhere, and no tigers or anything of the kind.
“It doesn’t look like the home of a film star,” Dooley remarked. “It looks more like the house of a retired CEO of a multinational corporation.”
“Yeah, looks like Maria likes to keep things pretty simple,” I agreed. I looked around for a way to enter the house from the back, preferably the kitchen, where usually food can be found, all the while making sure I kept an eye out for the dog I’d sniffed before.
I wanted to have a bite to eat, but that didn’t mean I wanted to become dog food.
Suddenly a door was opened and I said, “Dooley! Let’s go!”
It was one of the servants who’d popped out for a smoke, and left the door open. So we quickly scooted inside and found, to our extreme elation, that we were in the kitchen.
There was nothing sober or simple about the kitchen, though. On the contrary, it was big and loaded with gleaming appliances, two kitchen islands, modern equipment, wall-to-wall cupboards and enough pots and pans dangling from hooks to feed a small army. All in all, it wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Nancy Meyers movie, and just as I was wondering when Meryl Streep or Diane Keaton were going to come walking in, a woman entered who looked so much like a cook she could have starred in a movie as one.
She started chopping veggies on one of the kitchen islands, and before she noticed our presence, we decided to skedaddle. Next to the kitchen was a second, smaller space, where usually, in most households of this caliber, the pets are fed. Not here, though, as we found ourselves in a pantry, full of shelves laden with foodstuffs. No dog or cat food was in evidence, though, much to our disappointment.
And we probably would have walked out again, if I hadn’t detected a strange odor that I nevertheless immediately recognized.
“Mice,” I said, a grim expression creeping up my face.
“See, Max?” said Dooley. “Even the rich and famous have mice.”
If his statement was designed to soothe and comfort, its effect was lost on me. Instead it served to increase my antipathy toward the critters.
And as if reading my mind suddenly a tiny nose came peeping from underneath the shelves, soon followed by a tiny body. But when the mouse spoke, it didn’t do so in an equally tiny voice. Instead, it boomed, “Why, if it ain’t cats! What are you fellas doing here?!”
“We’re visitors,” I said in measured tones, as I didn’t want to pick a fight with this mouse simply because of its species.
“Looking for food, I presume,” said the mouse, still in that same hale and hearty manner, which for some reason got my back up even more.
“Well, we wouldn’t mind having a bite to eat, Mr. Mouse,” said Dooley. “We haven’t eaten since this morning, and we’re both very hungry, I don’t mind telling you.”
The mouse chuckled—actually chuckled!
“Look, mice have stolen our food, and as a consequence we didn’t enjoy a full breakfast,” I said, a little frostily. “So your cheerfulness is highly out of place.”
“Mice have stolen your food, huh? Is that a fact now?”
“Yes, that is a fact, so you’ll forgive me for not being a big fan of your kind, sir.”
“First off, I’m not a sir, I’m a lady. Secondly, you can’t go around blaming the behavior of a few rogue elements on the entire species, now can you?”
“Yes, you’re right, of course,” I said, slightly taken aback. I’d never heard a female mouse speak with such forcefulness before, and it struck me that as far as mice went, I was still pretty much a novice.
“Look, if you want to eat, I can offer you a variety of dishes,” said the mouse, much to my surprise. She pointed to various foodstuffs on the shelves. “We also have a nice assortment of cheeses in the fridge. You have your Cheddar, your Gouda, your Parmesan. Or if you prefer the softer cheeses, I’ve got you covered too. Humboldt Fog, Bergenost, Red Hawk, Monterey Jack… Oh, and cream cheese, of course. Always a favorite.”
When I told the mouse I wasn’t into cheese all that much, and neither was Dooley, she registered surprise. “Then you haven’t tasted these cheeses yet. They are to die for.”
And she tripped out of the pantry and into the kitchen, neatly avoiding being stepped on by the cook, and resolutely making her way to yet another room. After a moment, her head popped out again, and she shouted, “Well, what are you waiting for, cats?!”
So we followed her, and found ourselves in a room with no less than three fridges and two freezers.
“Now this is where you guys come in,” said the mouse. “I could open these myself, but it’s hard going, what with that suction thingy, which is really annoying, if you ask me. Whoever designed these fridges clearly didn’t think of us poor mice. So pop this one open and let’s have a look-see, shall we?”
I did as she said, and before long I was sampling some of the best cheese I’d eaten my entire life.
“I have to admit you were absolutely right,” I said. “This is some pretty good stuff.”
“Right?” she said proudly, then stuck out a paw. “My name is Elsa, by the way, and I’m pleased to meet you, cat.”