She got up and followed her brother into the house. The moment they entered the kitchen he turned and said, with a frown, “What’s that kid up to?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “but I don’t trust him—do you?”
“I’m not sure.” He glanced out through the window at Dudley, who was talking a mile a minute, with Tex smiling all the while. “Do you want me to check him out for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean—how do you know he really is who he says he is? He could be anyone.”
“I know. I was thinking the exact same thing. But Tex doesn’t want to hear it. He’s convinced Dudley is his son—end of discussion.”
Alec nodded, and glanced around. “Got anything that belongs to Dudley?”
“Um…” She picked up a sweater the kid had dropped on one of the kitchen chairs. “You mean something like this?”
The police chief quickly extracted a few hairs and tucked them into a small plastic baggie. “And now I’m going to need something of your husband.”
“DNA?” she said, understanding dawning.
“I hope he won’t mind that we’re going behind his back on this,” said Alec as he watched Marge rifle through the laundry hamper in the laundry room off the kitchen until she found one of Tex’s shirts. Alec repeated the procedure and tucked both baggies away.
“Oh, he won’t be happy about it,” she said. “But that can’t be helped.” She folded her arms across her chest. “What if he isn’t Tex’s son? What do we do then?”
“You let me worry about that,” he said with a smile as he placed a kiss on her brow.
She gratefully put a hand on his broad chest. In moments like these she was happy that her big brother was a cop.
As soon as Alec had left, she returned to the breakfast table, where the topic under discussion was still the same as before: the millions of dollars that would be flowing into the Poole coffers now that this mall development was underway. And as Marge studied Dudley, she found herself thinking once again that she didn’t trust this kid.
But how was she going to convince her husband?
Now there was an interesting problem.
Chapter 24
The moment Chase had returned from walking Rambo, Odelia had swept us all into her car and rushed off. Perhaps swept is too strong a word, as it’s probably hard for any human to sweep a two hundred pound dog into a car. Cajole is perhaps the better description, and so there we were, on our way to a destination unknown, four cats in the backseat, while Rambo took up space in the trunk of the car.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“My uncle gave me a secret assignment yesterday,” Odelia announced, sounding happy and excited in equal measure. “You remember Charlene’s uncle who died?”
“Yeah, he fell into his own pool, right?”
“Right. Well, Uncle Alec isn’t the kind of cop who likes to accept the most obvious explanation about anything, and so he wants me to look into this death a little closer. Make sure there’s nothing suspicious about it.”
“You think Charlene’s uncle was murdered?” asked Harriet.
“I don’t know. But I’m sure I’ll find out.”
“I like this,” grunted the dog who was breathing down my neck. “Just like the old days: out on patrol, catching the bad guys.”
“Did you go out on patrol a lot when you were on active duty?” asked Brutus, who, technically at least, was also a police animal, as he’d once belonged to a cop.
“Oh, yeah. All the time. Until they figured I was too old for the job, and they retired me. I’m too young to retire, so I didn’t like that,” he said. And then he sneezed, causing big gobs of goo to hit the back of my neck and even the back of Odelia’s head.
Even if Rambo was too old to chase the bad guys, he could always hit them with his goo and make them surrender, I figured as I extracted the worst of the sticky goo from my precious blorange fur.
“Eww,” Harriet whispered. “Eww, eww, eww!”
“Oh, can you have that talk now, Max?” said Odelia. “About the bowl situation, I mean?”
“What bowel situation?” said Rambo. “My bowels are just fine, in case you were wondering.”
“Not the bowel situation—the bowl situation,” I clarified.
“What about my bowls?” he grunted, looking annoyed.
“The thing is, Rambo,” said Harriet, turning to face the large dog, “that in our household we each have our own designated bowl—two, in fact. One for water and one for kibble. And at night usually a third bowl comes out when Odelia doles out the wet food. And you can multiply that number by two, since we occupy two homes.”
“Ooh, wet food,” said the big dog, licking his lips with an extremely long tongue. “Rambo likes himself some wet food.”
“Yes, well, so the whole point of this setup is that we only eat from our own bowl, you see? And for convenience’s sake our bowls even have our names on them. So Max has his bowls, I have my bowls, Dooley has his bowls, and so does Brutus and so do you!” She gave him a beaming smile, but the dog shook his head, causing some of his saliva to sprinkle around.
“I don’t get it,” he announced in that deep gravelly voice of his.
“You can only eat from the bowl that has your name on it,” I said. “You can’t touch any other bowl.”
The dog frowned. “Oh.” Then he frowned some more, causing his eyes to disappear into the folds of his face. “I see…”
“And?” said Odelia. “Do you understand the rules, Rambo? I’m sorry to have to be this strict, but with five pets in the house we need to have some house rules, you see.”
“But… what if I’m hungry?” asked Rambo.
“What is he saying, Max?” asked Odelia, glancing back through the rearview mirror.
“He wants to know what he should do when he’s hungry,” I translated Rambo’s words.
“I’ll make sure to keep his bowl filled at all times,” she said with a smile. “Just like I do with all you guys. Except Max, because Max has to watch his weight.”
I made a face.
“Oh, don’t give me that look, Maxie,” said Odelia. “You know you tend to gorge.”
“I don’t ‘gorge,’” I said stiffishly. “I simply have a very healthy appetite.”
“I hear you, Max,” said Rambo. “I’m exactly the same. I have the kind of appetite that makes me very cranky when I don’t have anything to eat.” He stared at me. “Very cranky.”
I gulped a little. I had the distinct impression that Rambo wouldn’t mind eating me if he ever found his bowl empty and couldn’t touch my food or the others’.
“Odelia, did you stock up on dog food?” I asked, my voice a little squeaky.
“I asked Chase to pick up some more after work,” she said. “I hope he doesn’t forget.”
“I hope so, too,” grumbled Rambo, still giving me that penetrating look.
“He won’t,” I said in a strangled voice. “And if he does, you can always eat some of my food.”
“I thought you said I can only eat from my own bowl?”
“No, but just in case of an emergency I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Only if you’re sure, Max,” said Rambo, his hooded eyes boring into mine. “Cause if not, I won’t touch your bowl. I’ll just find something else to eat…” And then he gave me a toothy grin, and I could see he had some very sharp incisors. Sharp and very, very big.
Gulp!
Chapter 25
They’d arrived at the address Odelia’s uncle had sent her. The bungalow-style house was a modest one, in a quiet neighborhood that had been built about thirty years before. It had a front yard that was well-kept, but the house itself looked a little rundown.
She set foot for the front door, four cats and one dog looking on from the sidewalk.
There was no bell to ring, but there was a sturdy brass knocker, so she used it deftly. Moments later she could hear stumbling inside, and the shuffling of feet. And when the door opened and a large man appeared, puffing from a cigarette, and only dressed in boxers and a tank top, she gave him her best smile. “Mr. Pollard? Jerry Pollard? My name is Odelia Poole, and—”