“Because he’s afraid she’ll turn him in to the police?”
“Well, she would, of course,” Tilton agreed. “Considering the grief that man put her and the kids through.” He thought for a moment, then decidedly shook his head. “No, I’m sure Todd is staying with a friend again, and he’ll be home in one or two days, blaming us for whatever it is that upset him this time.” He smiled. “Do you have kids, Mrs. Kingsley?”
“That question again!” Dooley hissed. “Why do they keep wanting her to have kids!”
“Because that’s what most people who get married do, Dooley,” I whispered back. “They get married and have kids!”
“Well, not Odelia—she already has us!”
“No, not at the moment,” said Odelia with a smile.
“Wait till they suddenly turn from delightful little angels into monstrous teenagers. Friends tell me that it will all pass soon enough, and we shouldn’t worry too much. Though I don’t mind telling you I hope it will pass sooner rather than later.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, sir,” said Odelia, “but did you ever have second thoughts about marrying Rosa—knowing about her history?”
Tilton’s smile widened. “Never. Not for one second. You see, the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was the one for me—even if she didn’t know it herself. I was forty at the time, long past the age when people fall in love at first sight. In fact I always thought that was just a lot of nonsense. I spent my life building a successful business, and never had time for romance. Until I met Rosa, and I could have sworn my heart stopped for a moment, then fortunately started up again.”
“And what about taking on two kids of another man—a man guilty of a crime?”
“Rosa is blameless in all of this. She didn’t know what her husband was up to. Before the wedding she said she had something very important to tell me, and she was going to tell me now, so I could still back out of the wedding if I wanted to.” He glanced to a framed picture on his desk, a family portrait of himself, Rosa, Todd and Aisha. “I didn’t even have to think twice. I told her then what I still feel strongly now: she was never to blame for what her husband did. On the contrary, she was as much a victim of her husband’s crime as the people he stole from.”
“That was very noble of you, sir.”
“Not at all. I was in love, you see, but not so bedazzled that I didn’t have a private detective look into Rosa’s past. A man in my position has to be careful. But he told me what I already knew in my heart: she never had an inkling of what Clive was up to. And after he disappeared, he didn’t even try to get in touch. Abandoned his family without a second thought.” His expression hardened. “Which makes me despise him even more.”
The interview was over, and we all got up. Odelia shook Mr. Bond’s hand. “What do you do these days, sir? As I understand, you don’t have to work for a living anymore.”
He laughed.“You mean, why do I have an office if I’m independently wealthy?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, a wealthy man suddenly becomes very popular, Mrs. Kingsley, and any number of charities and organizations suddenly pop out of the woodwork, eager to share your wealth with you. And so after I made a careful selection, I decided to award a few of them with my patronage and my money. So now I find myself on so many committees that I have to work harder than when I was still building my business. But you know what?” He leaned in as he shook Odelia’s hand warmly. “It’s so much more enjoyable now that I get to pick and choose what to do with my time—and my money, of course.”
As we left the office, and found ourselves on the sidewalk once more, Odelia said,“He wasn’t lying. According to an article I read, Tilton Bond is one of the most generous contributors to Hampton Cove’s many charities and nonprofits, and practically singlehandedly keeps them all running.”
“The world needs more people like him,” I said.
“It sure does,” she agreed.
Chapter 17
That evening, we were scheduled to go out patrolling with the neighborhood watch. Though I should probably call it the Baker Street Cats, since that was the new name.
Before setting out to patrol the streets and alleys that form our small town, Scarlett and Gran sat down with the four of us in Tex and Marge’s backyard, for another installment in what apparently were a series of lessons to teach Scarlett our language.
“My name is Harriet,” said Harriet emphatically, enunciating every syllable clearly.
“Meow meow meow,” said Scarlett, managing to look bewildered, frustrated and puzzled at the same time.
“No, no, no,” said Harriet.
“Meow meow meow,” Scarlett said once more.
“You’re not listening,” said Harriet. “Repeat after me: My name is Harriet.”
“Meow meow meow etcetera,” said Scarlett. She looked to Gran, who sat consulting her smartphone. “Do you have any idea what she’s saying?”
“She said ‘My name is Harriet,’” Gran murmured. “And then she said you’re not listening, and she repeated: ‘My name is Harriet.’”
“Well, all I’m hearing is a lot of meowing, and it all sounds the same.”
“It’s not, darling. She’s forming very distinct words, and those words all form distinct and clearly defined sentences, and when you put it all together, there is a very clear and distinct meaning in those words and sentences.”
“But it all sounds like gibberish to me! And will you please put down that damned phone!”
“There seems to be a lot of criminal activity going on in our town,” Gran said. “A television set was stolen from Mrs. Barker on Lincoln Street. And two vandals were caught in the act of spraying graffiti on a car belonging to a Mr. Monsoon.” She sighed. “We really need to get out there and start patrolling, or else this whole place will go down in flames.”
“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, Vesta. I can’t do this—it’s impossible!”
“No, it’s not. You’re simply not trying hard enough. Now repeat after me. My name is Harriet.”
“Meow meow meow,” said Scarlett, rolling her eyes.
“No, that’s not it. I clearly said ‘My name is Harriet.’”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Then you heard wrong.” Gran glanced to her friend’s ears. “Maybe it’s your hearing. Are you sure you don’t need a hearing aid?”
“There’s nothing wrong with my ears, Vesta.”
“You’re not as young as you used to be, you know. Many women your age need a hearing aid. Have you seen a doctor?”
“I don’t need to see a doctor! My ears are fine!”
“Then I really don’t know what the problem is.”
“The problem is that this… gift you have, isn’t something you can teach. It’s probably genetic.”
“You think?”
“Of course!”
The two women stared at Harriet, who looked concerned, and so did Brutus.
“But, Gran,” said Harriet. “If we can’t teach humans to talk to us, this whole Baker Street Cats project is useless!”
“Yeah, if we don’t have a human operator who can interpret the messages my soldiers send in,” said Brutus, “the app won’t work.”
“Nonsense,” said Gran. “We’ll just have to find a way to make it work. Look, if they can put Jeff Bezos in space, how hard can it be to create an app that makes sense of what you’re saying?”
“There’s only one solution as I see it,” said Scarlett.
“Which is?”
“That you and Marge and Odelia work around the clock to man the command center where all the information from the Baker Street Cats comes in, and work as dispatchers.”
“I’m not going to spend the rest of my life as a dispatcher,” said Gran. “No way.”
“Well, if you want this to work, you’ll have to.”
“Marge can do it,” said Harriet. “I mean, how many people go to the library nowadays?”
“Yeah, kids don’t read books anymore,” Brutus chimed in. “They all play computer games, or chat with their friends on WhatsApp or watch TikTok. They don’t need books.”