“They did fit the description,” Chase allowed. “Two burglars, one short and one tall. Though truth be told, Iris and Mira Johnson also fit the description, and so did Vale and Carew.”
“At least this time you got the right guy,” said Gran, who was still sore about the fact that her son was starting a dog kennel.
“Yeah, turns out we got the wrong guys, and gals, twice!” said Uncle Alec, though he didn’t seem too troubled by the fact. Then again, Charlene had relaxed her dieting instructions, and seemed to have decided to accept her man the way he was: curvy.
“It was a neat scheme,” said Marge. “All of their victims were also their clients, and they managed to get a good look around the houses they targeted, picking out what they were going to steal, then returning under the cover of darkness to rob them blind.”
“Wearing rubber masks that made them look like Vale and Carew and dropping their names was also very clever,” said Chase. “Your secretary didn’t pick up on the ruse.”
“No, she certainly didn’t,” said Charlene. “Well, I’m glad we got those coins back.”
“Is that why they tossed Mort Hodge’s house?” asked Marge. “To hide the fact that they knew exactly what they were looking for?”
“Exactly,” said Chase. “To make it look like a regular robbery.”
“I’m selling my gnome, by the way,” Tex announced now as he pushed his chef’s hat further back on his head.
Marge stared at her husband. “You’re selling your painting? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It takes a special kind of person to be a collector of extremely valuable works of art, and I’ve discovered throughout this episode that I’m not that kind of person. I keep worrying that someone is going to steal it, and that’s not a great feeling to have.”
“You could lock it up in a safe at the bank,” Odelia suggested.
“And then have Vale and Carew steal it? No, thanks,” said Tex, throwing his tongs into the air and failing to catch them, causing them to hit the table and knock over Uncle Alec’s beer, pouring its contents all over the big guy’s lap.
“My beer!” said Uncle Alec.
“Sorry about that,” Tex muttered. He grabbed a towel and started mopping up his brother-in-law’s crotch, who respectfully declined the treatment, yanked the towel from the doctor’s hands and did the honors himself.
“So what’s going to happen to the Johnsons?” asked Charlene. “Are they as crooked as you think they are?”
“Oh, yes,” Chase confirmed. “They may not be burglars, but they are thieves.”
“Two pairs of thieves caught in one week,” said Uncle Alec. “Must be a new record.”
“Look, I can condone a kennel, but does it have to be a dog kennel?” asked Gran suddenly. She’d been oblivious to the conversation and immersed in her own world.
“Where is your friend Scarlett, by the way?” asked Marge.
“At the spa,” said Gran. Her eyes lit up. “Why don’t you start a spa instead of a dog kennel? We could all use a nice day at the spa from time to time.”
Charlene directed a kindly smile at the older woman. “If we called it an animal shelter and dropped the reference to dogs, would you feel more comfortable, Vesta?”
“Well…” said Gran, wavering. “Maybe. I mean, what did dogs ever do to get preferential treatment?”
“She’s not wrong,” said Harriet, once again outing herself as another dog hater. “Though there are exceptions, of course,” she quickly added when she saw Rufus peeping through the hole in the hedge. “Some dogs are almost as nice as cats, in fact.”
Rufus raised his eyes heavenward, shook his big fluffy head, then reeled it back in.
“We’ll call it the Vesta Muffin Animal Shelter,” Charlene suggested. “How does that sound?”
This time Gran was actually beaming. She clasped her hands together and said, “Are you serious?”
“Of course. I’m a politician. I don’t have a sense of humor,” Charlene quipped.
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you,” said Gran, and there were tears in her eyes when she got up to give Charlene a big hug. “I love it!”
“Vesta Muffin Animal Shelter?” said Brutus. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Why not?” I asked. “I think it’s very sweet of Charlene to call it that.”
“Yeah, but what if Gran is tired of us and decides to donate us to the shelter that carries her name?”
We were all quiet after that. The prospect was too gruesome to contemplate. But Odelia must have overheard, for when she next came to dispense some more delicious grub, she said, “We’re never giving you away, you guys. And you can quote me on that.”
Just like a reporter to use that kind of language, I thought. But it was really kind of Odelia to confirm that we were, now and forever, her pets, and she wasn’t going to give us away. I like to think she was also saying it as a form of apology, after subjecting us to the cat-hating antics of the two cleaners-slash-burglars.
“Why do they call them cat burglars, Max?” asked Dooley.
“They call them cat burglars because they can scale a building like a cat, and crawl across roofs like we do. Though no human will ever be able to truly be a cat burglar.”
“What Max means to say is that cats are natural burglars,” said Harriet. “Though of course we would never stoop so low as to go and burgle people.”
“But if we would, we could?” asked Dooley.
“Well, of course, but it wouldn’t be right,” said Harriet. “We’re cats, not thieves.”
“I think I would like to be a thief,” said Dooley, surprisingly.
We all looked at him. “You, a thief?” I said. “But why?”
“I’d steal from the bad people and give it to the good ones,” he said. “Like Blanche and Bella Trainor? Or Iris and Mira Johnson? If we could steal back what they stole, and return it to the people they stole it from, wouldn’t that be a good thing?”
“Of course that’s a good thing,” I conceded. “But that’s why we have Uncle Alec and Chase.”
“Well, not exactly,” said Brutus. “Uncle Alec and Chase find the thieves, and lock them up, and they return the stolen items to the victims. But they don’t burgle the burglars.”
“Some thieves are too big to lock up,” said Dooley. “I saw it on the Discovery Channel. Some thieves are so big and powerful no one can touch them, not even the police. And if we could steal from them, I think that wouldn’t really be stealing, would it?”
He had a point. Sometimes the thieves got so big they were untouchable. Then again, lucky for us there were no such thieves in Hampton Cove. At least not that I knew of.
“You’re thinking of Robin Hood,” said Harriet.
“No, I’m not,” said Dooley.
“Robin Hood stole from the rich and gave to the poor. They made movies about him.”
This piqued my friend’s interest. “Tell me more,” he said, and so Harriet told him more. I could have told her this might not be such a good idea, as Dooley has a very active imagination.
And sure enough, before the barbecue was over Dooley was already thinking up ways and means for us to go thieving together!
“We could both wear masks and be like masked vigilantes,” he enthused. “Like Batman, but without the bat part, and the man part. And without the cave, of course. I don’t like caves. They’re dark and creepy.”
“I don’t know, Dooley,” I said. “I don’t think robbing people is a nice thing to do.”
“We’d be like superheroes,” he said as his eyes flickered with excitement. “We could skip from roof to roof on our quest to right wrongs and mete out justice.”
“Right,” I said dubiously. “So no more quiz shows for you, I gather?”
“No more quiz shows,” he said, darting a quick look at Harriet. “I don’t want to win a house anymore. I like the house we have, and I like the people in it—and the cats.”
Harriet smiled. “I’m sorry for trying to steal your idea, Dooley,” she said. “I guess I got carried away.”