“She said that, huh?”
“All that and a lot more,” he admitted. “She also said that if she wanted to give her heart to Diego then that was nobody’s business but her own. And if I thought I was going to change her mind by acting like a jealous boyfriend I had another thing coming. And then she kissed Diego. For about a minute or so. It could have been longer. I decided not to stick around.”
I shared a look of commiseration with Dooley. The latter shrugged. He obviously figured that at least Brutus hadn’t turned into the bullying monster we’d all come to know and despise. He was just his old, miserable self again.
I patted the big cat on the shoulder. “Why don’t you join us, Brutus?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m licking my tail and Dooley is licking his privates.”
“Why not?” he asked, heaving another deep sigh. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
So we spent the next ten minutes grooming ourselves. It’s an important part of being a cat, and it helps to take your mind off things.
“So what’s new?” Brutus asked after a while.
“Nothing,” I said.
“You think Odelia cracked the case yet?”
“Nope,” I said.
“So what’s our next move?”
I gave this some thought. What was our next move? The only thing I could come up with was to spend some time at our usual haunts. The barber shop. The police station. The General Store. Maybe someone somewhere had seen something and could get this investigation moving in the right direction again.
So once we were satisfied that our fur was all nice and shiny again and generally flea-free, we ambled off in the direction of Main Street. The police station was a bust. No cats around, and Uncle Alec was holed up in his office playing Solitaire on his computer. The barber shop was a bust, too. None of the cats hanging around there had seen anything.
Our final destination was the General Store, where our buddy Kingman reigns supreme. He’s a large piebald that likes to gossip. And since just about every cat in town passes by the store eventually, he’s usually the best choice to pick up some juicy fresh gossip.
“Max! Dooley! Brutus!” Kingman said from his perch on the counter. He likes to keep his human Wilbur company while the latter rings up the purchases. He gracefully hopped down and trod over to where we were sitting, right next to the discount DVD bin. “So what’s happening, dudes?”
“We were just about to ask you,” I said.
“Quid pro quo, Max,” Kingman said with a sly grin. “Quid pro quo.”
“Grandma Poole is dating a guy called Leo Wetland,” I said.
He made a throwaway gesture with his paw. “That’s old news. You’ll have to do a lot better than that.”
“Niklaus Skad was killed?” Dooley tried.
“Old news!”
I glanced at Brutus. He was sitting on the biggest piece of news. He shook his head. I gave him a penetrating look. He shook his head again. So I decided to blurt it out myself. “Harriet is dating a cat called Diego.”
This time an eager look came into Kingman’s eyes. “Tell me more.”
So we told him more, Brutus meanwhile suffering the death of a thousand cuts. I told myself it was for a good cause. If Kingman wanted juicy gossip, it meant he had a big story to share, or else he wouldn’t bother.
“Diego, huh? I’ve seen that cat around. Strutting his stuff. Bad news, Max. Bad news.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
His eyes flashed. “Did you know that there’s a sweatshop in town?”
“No way!”
“Yes, way. Right here in Hampton Cove. An actual sweatshop!”
“What’s a sweatshop?” Dooley asked.
“It’s a shop where people go to sweat,” Brutus said.
“Like a fitness club?”
“Yeah, exactly like a fitness club,” said Brutus. “Right, Max?”
“No, not like a fitness club,” I said.
“So what is it?” asked Dooley, confused.
I gestured at Kingman. “You tell ‘em.”
“A sweatshop is a place where unscrupulous businessmen keep a bunch of workers—often even kids—and make them work really, really hard for pretty much no pay, for long hours and in horrible conditions.”
“I knew that,” I murmured, even though I didn’t.
“I get it,” Dooley said. “They make them sweat a lot and don’t pay them anything.”
“But isn’t that, like, illegal?” Brutus asked.
“Good point, buddy!” said Kingman. “Of course it’s illegal!”
“Yeah, they probably don’t pay any taxes,” I said.
“And they’re breaking pretty much every labor law,” Kingman added.
“So where is this sweatshop? And how do you even know this?”
“A cat that hangs out there told me. Said they’ve got a bunch of illegal aliens locked up in there.”
“Aren’t all aliens illegal?” asked Dooley. “I mean, I’ve seen Independence Day. Those horrible creatures definitely weren’t invited.”
“Not aliens from outer space,” I said. “Aliens as in immigrants.”
“Oh. Right,” he said, understanding dawning.
“Norma said they look Chinese,” said Kingman. “One of the workers actually feeds her milk from time to time. Through a crack in the window. She said there are bars on all the windows and they’re not allowed outside.”
“Terrible,” Brutus said, and I could tell he was moved by the story. So was I. In this day and age, in this country, this was a real outrage.
“So where is this sweatshop?” I asked.
Chapter 22
Odelia was hitching a ride in Chase’s car when suddenly she saw three cats tripping along the sidewalk. They were Max, Dooley and Brutus. When Max spotted the car, he motioned for her to pull over.
“Pull over, Chase,” she said. “Pull over right here.”
“What’s going on?” he asked, doing as she asked.
Without responding, she opened the door and allowed the three cats to hop in.
“Oh, God. Not your cats again,” Chase said.
She ignored him. If Max signaled her to stop, he had something important to tell her.
“There’s a sweatshop in town, Odelia,” he said the moment he got into the car. “Kingman talked to Norma who said there are a lot of Chinese illegal aliens being kept on an old farm on the edge of town.”
“They’ve got bars on the windows, Odelia,” said Dooley.
“And they’re not allowed to leave,” said Brutus.
“And they have to work really hard,” Max added.
She glanced over at Chase. “You’re going to have to trust me on this, Chase.”
He looked puzzled. “Trust you on what?”
“Remember when you said I should use my sleuthing magic to solve this case?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Well, this is me pulling the sleuthing magic card and telling you just to drive where I tell you to drive and not ask me any questions.”
“Wait, what?”
She turned around, to the three cats who were now propped up on the backseat. “It’s the old Tucker place, out on Dubarq Road,” Max said.
“Go straight and then take a right at the end of the block,” she told Chase.
It didn’t take them long to arrive at their destination. And even though Chase had thrown her a lot of curious glances, he’d managed to refrain from asking her any questions. Now that they were nearing their destination, he abruptly pulled the car onto the shoulder, cut the engine and turned to her.
“So what’s this all about? What is back there at that old house?”
“It’s an old farm, and… I think there’s a sweatshop out there.”
He stared at her. “A sweatshop. In Hampton Cove. And you know that how?”
Now came the tricky part. “You remember when I told you about the note Gran found in her new Ziv Riding sweater?”
“The cry for help, yes.”
“And when Mom found a similar note in her blouse?”
“You think those notes came from this place?”
“Yes, I do. I think Ziv Riding isn’t having his clothes manufactured in Asia, like he claims. I think he’s having them manufactured right here in Hampton Cove, only in appalling conditions by people who are being held here against their will, and forced to work in terrible circumstances.”