Suddenly the doorbell rang, and they first looked at each other, then in the direction of the door. This time they both walked the short distance to open it, and they found a thickset cameraman standing before them, and an excited-looking young reporter with purple-framed glasses and a yellow goatee sticking a microphone under their noses.
“WLBC-9—your best source of local news! Tex and Marge Poole?”
Tex and Marge nodded dumbly.
“I apologize for the intrusion,” said the guy, “but I believe you’re both familiar with a person named Madame Solange?”
Once more, Tex and Marge nodded dumbly.
“I’d like to ask you a couple of questions. But first, the most important one: did you or didn’t you recently win the lottery?”
“We did,” said Marge, finally finding her voice.
“We just found out,” added Tex.
“Wonderful! Amazing! Great! You will remember that your visit to Madame Solange a couple of days ago was being taped, right?”
Vaguely Marge remembered that Madame Solange had warned them the consult was being recorded. She hadn’t minded, figuring it was probably some security thing.
“We’ve been following Madame Solange around for the past six months, all part of a series on fortune tellers and paranormal phenomena, and as a follow-up we also like to talk to the people whose fortunes she predicted. People like you, Marge and Tex Poole.”
“Okay,” said Marge, understanding dawning. “So you want to see how accurate Madame Solange’s predications are, is that it?”
“Exactly! So tell us, Marge Poole, how much did Madame Solange predict you’d win?”
“She didn’t give us a specific number, but she did say it would be a hefty sum.”
“And how much did you win?”
“Fifty thousand,” said Tex with a big smile, and showed the camera crew the winning lottery ticket in question.
“And as far as your prediction goes, Tex Poole, what did Madame Solange tell you?”
“She said I’d go on a Caribbean cruise,” said Tex, his smile fading a little.
“And have you made plans in that direction?” asked the reporter.
“Not yet,” said Tex, then glanced down at the lottery ticket, then at his wife, and his smile returned in full force. “But I guess now we can finally take that cruise we’ve been talking about, honey!”
“Oh, my God!” said Marge. “Of course!”
“Oo-wee!” said the reporter. “Looks like Madame Solange was right on the… money!”
Marge would have told the guy that the ticket had magically appeared in their mailbox, but in the face of their big win that seemed like such a minor detail now. And since it would only detract from the bigger picture, which was that they’d won a big bundle of cash, and were finally going on that cruise, she decided not to bother.
Madame Solange had been right. Twice! That was the main takeaway here.
Chapter 15
Harriet and Brutus had been wandering through town, and had finally arrived at their destination: the house where Charlene Butterwick lived.
“So this is the place, huh?” said Brutus, panting a little. It had been a long walk, and his paws were hurting.
“Yep, this is it,” said Harriet. “So let’s start hunting around for clues, snuggle pooh. I’m pretty sure these kidnappers must have left some.”
Brutus would have reminded Harriet that clues weren’t like breadcrumbs: you couldn’t just strew them around here and there, but felt that Harriet was right in another regard: surely these kidnappers had been seen by someone? So what they needed to do now was find these someones and grill them for information until they cracked.
“Let’s go talk to that big guy over there,” Harriet suggested, and pointed to a very large canine who stood barking at them from behind a fence.
Brutus, who disliked dogs as much as the next cat, wasn’t all that keen on making this particular dog’s acquaintance, but then again, a clue was a clue, and they needed to find Uncle Alec, didn’t they?
So they both traipsed across the street and joined the large dog, who was yapping even louder now that two cats looked like they were about to invade his territory.
“Cool it, buddy,” said Harriet. “All we want is some information.”
“No way are you setting paw in here,” said the dog in response. He was a big brown dog, and if Brutus wasn’t mistaken belonged to the Danish Dog variety.
“What makes you think we’re even remotely interested in setting paw in there?” asked Harriet. “We have our own homes, dog, so you can keep yours, all right?”
“Oh,” said the dog, not expecting this comeback. “So what do you want, exactly?”
“A crime was committed across the street,” said Harriet. “A man was kidnapped, and we were wondering if you saw something.”
“Yeah, I saw something,” said the dog, giving Harriet a curious look. It probably wasn’t every day that cats came inquiring after kidnapped people. “So what’s it to you?”
“That man is our human’s brother,” said Brutus, “and she would like to get him back before these bad men hurt him beyond repair.”
“Well said, Brutus,” said Harriet. “So how about it? What can you tell us?”
The dog sank down on his haunches and gave them a sly look. “What’s in it for me?”
“The satisfaction of having solved a crime, that’s what,” said Harriet, and it was immediately clear the dog wasn’t all that happy with her answer, for he made a face.
“I’m not into solving crime, cat, so I don’t really care if you find your human or not.”
Harriet cocked her head. “You don’t care if Alec Lip is found? Chief of police and the person in charge of the police station?”
“Nope. I don’t care one bit,” said the dog, and yawned cavernously to show them exactly how little he cared about Uncle Alec’s fate.
“You do know that the chief of police in this town is also in charge of the rules and regulations governing the use of our parks and sidewalks, don’t you? And so far I think Chief Alec has been very lenient when it comes to dogs being able to do their business both on those same sidewalks and in those same parks. But what if I tell you his second-in-command, Chase Kingsley, who now stands to take over, takes a much harder line?”
“He does?” asked the dog, showing signs of concern.
“Oh, sure. Chase Kingsley hates dogs with a vengeance. He was once bitten by a dog, you see, and he’s made it his mission in life to make your lives as miserable as he can.”
The dog glanced at Brutus, who nodded solemnly. “You’re in for a very bumpy ride, buddy.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about the new ordinance forbidding dogs to be walked,” said Harriet. “Forcing their owners to make them do their business in litter boxes from now on. So no more walks in the park for you, sir. No more refreshing rambles along the sidewalks and the roads of our town. And most importantly no more walks along the beach.”
“No more walks along the beach!”
“Oh, for sure. You’ll be cooped up inside for the rest of your natural life, Mr…”
“Buddy,” said Buddy sadly.
“No more running wild and free. No more doing your business al fresco. No more—”
“All right, all right! I get your point! What do you want?”
“If we can find Chief Alec, and he’s reinstated as Chief of Police, Kingsley won’t be able to carry through his frankly apocalyptic plans, and your life will go on the way it always has. So are you going to help us find Chief Alec or do you prefer Kingsley to be the new chief?”
“No! Please not Chief Kingsley! I like to run along the beach, and I love to do my business al fresco! I’ll tell you everything I know!”
Harriet gave her friend and partner a cheeky wink and he grinned. Harriet would have made a great police cat.
“So tell us what you saw.”