“Oh, we saw it,” I said, suddenly overwhelmed by an irrepressible sensation of unbridled joy and affection for this inimitable cat. “And we liked it. Didn’t we, Dooley?”
“I saw—I liked,” Dooley confirmed, a look of admiration on his furry face.
“Not that. Something else,” Clarice said with a frown. “Come.”
And come we did—into the house that was hitherto forbidden territory, and then up the stairs and down a long corridor.
“I thought you said you were through dealing with Diego?” I said.
“That was before he started throwing his weight around,” Clarice said as she sashayed across a nice white high-pile carpet. I had to resist the powerful urge to dig my claws in and start kneading. We were on a mission to save Harriet. Base urges had to wait.
“Is he really in charge of the Dieber Babes now?” asked Dooley.
“Of course he isn’t. He just wishes he was. That cat has the biggest Napoleon complex I’ve ever seen in any living being. It’s pathetic, actually, and a little sad.”
“Um, what’s a Napoleon complex?” asked Dooley.
“You may have noticed that Diego is a pretty short cat. To compensate he likes to act tough and whip other cats into submission. But not me. Uh-uh. If he tries that crap again, I swear I’ll slice him up so bad his own mother won’t recognize him. Oh, here we are.”
I gulped, and so did Dooley. I’d seen Clarice gobble up vicious rats whole without batting an eye. I did not want to be on her bad side. If Diego kept this up, he was a dead cat.
We’d arrived at one of the guest rooms, and Clarice jumped and grabbed the door handle with both paws. The handle twisted down under her weight and the door opened.
“Hey, that’s a neat trick,” said Dooley.
“Stick with me. I can teach you stuff,” said Clarice, pushing the door open further.
The room was smaller than I would have imagined in a house this size, and pretty messy. Magazines were strewn around, and when I checked the titles I saw they were all either gun-or baseball-related. A large poster of Alex Rodriguez adorned the wall over the bed, and a sizable banner of the New York Yankees covered the opposite wall.
“Looks like whoever lives here likes baseball,” I said. “And guns.”
“Over here,” said Clarice, and moved into a bathroom the size of a cubicle. Over the sink, the mirror was bedecked with pictures, and when I looked closer, I saw they all featured the same woman.
“She’s one of Dieber’s bodyguards,” Clarice said. “Her name is Regan Lightbody.”
“Looks like this guy is pretty obsessed with her,” I said. And then my eye fell on a few more disturbing details. The pictures of two guys had been marked with big red Xs over their faces.
Clarice had followed my gaze, and said,“Ray Cooper and Toby Mulvaney. The two bodyguards that were shot.” She raised a whisker when I stared at a message taped beneath the men’s pictures. It read, ‘If I can’t have you—no one can!’
“What does it mean, Max?” asked Dooley, who’d just spotted the same message.
“It means that whoever lives in this room is a double murderer,” I said.
Chapter 26
It is always a tough proposition to be faced with two incompatible tasks. On the one hand I wanted to run and tell Odelia what we’d just discovered, so she could induce Chase to apprehend the killer. On the other hand, we’d arrived at the Dieber house with a job to do, namely to save Harriet from the cat-collecting and cat-distributing singer. And since I couldn’t be in two places at the same time, I had a decision to make, and a tough one to boot.
Luckily I was helped in my decision-making process by the arrival on the scene of the very cat we’d come here to save: Harriet walked into the room and gave the three of us a vicious glare.
“Did you or did you not just attack my boyfriend?” she demanded.
I had the impression she was talking to Clarice, and that impression was confirmed when Clarice replied,“If you’re talking about that obnoxious fleabag that calls himself Diego then yes, I did give him a piece of my mind. And if he wants more, he knows where to get it.”
A challenging statement, but then Clarice had the chops to back it up.
“I’ll have you know I lodged a formal complaint with the other Dieber Babes. They’ll want to have a word with you. You can’t go around cutting up cats, Clarice. You simply can’t!”
“I can and I will if a cat gives me as much grief as your Diego does,” said Clarice.
“Diego is the sweetest, most charming cat for miles around,” she challenged.
“You’re deluded if you think that cat’s charming, honey,” said Clarice.
But Harriet raised her chin.“Diego is a sweetheart, and I’ll bet that the only reason you attacked him is because he rejected you. Diego is mine, Clarice, and you have no business trying to seduce him.”
For a moment I thought Clarice was about to attack Harriet, for these were fighting words. Instead, she laughed—perhaps the first time I’d heard her utter such a musical laugh of genuine merriment. She laughed and laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. Harriet’s eyes, meanwhile, were shooting sheets of flame. Not that it affected Clarice in the least.
“Oh, you’re funny, girl,” said Clarice finally. “Me and that scuzzball. You wish.”
“What’s so funny about that? I know you tried to seduce him. He told me so himself. And when he said no, you attacked him. Poor cat said he never saw it coming. Lost a great deal of fur and I’m not sure those scratches on his nose won’t leave a few very nasty scars.”
“I hope they do,” Clarice said. “The cat is a liar, Harriet. A big, fat liar.”
“She’s right,” I said. “Diego threatened to cut Clarice, so she cut him. That’s what happened. Isn’t that right, Dooley?”
“That’s exactly what happened,” Dooley was happy to confirm. “Diego said, ‘Get lost, Clarice, or I’ll cut you.’ Those were his exact words. He’s not a very nice cat. Not nice at all.”
“You’re the liars!” Harriet cried, stomping her paw for good measure. “You’re the big, fat liars! All of you. You, Max, are jealous of Diego because he’s a much better singer than you and because Odelia likes him best. And you, Dooley, are jealous because I’m with Diego now and that drives you crazy, just like it drives Brutus crazy. And you, Clarice, can’t stand it when a cat as attractive and charming as Diego prefers to be with me and not you. You’re all jealous and you’re all horrible, horrible cats and I never want to see you again for as long as I live!” And with these words, she took her leave, sweeping from the room like a diva.
“But Harriet!” Dooley cried.
She turned at the door, held up her paw and snapped,“Talk to the paw, Dooley!”
And then she was gone.
“Talk to the paw?” Dooley asked. “Why do I have to talk to her paw?”
“It’s an expression,” I said. “It means she doesn’t want to listen to you.”
“Oh, I’m used to that,” said Dooley. “I just didn’t see what her paw had to do with anything.”
“Oh, Dooley, Dooley,” said Clarice. “You are a sweetheart, aren’t you? Let me just say it’s her loss if she chooses Diego over you. The cat is a moron, and I don’t say that lightly.”
“Harriet is not a moron,” said Dooley, coming to Harriet’s defense even under these circumstances. “She just has a strange taste in cats, I guess.”
“That’s an understatement,” I said.
And just as we were about to walk out and return home, Brutus sailed into the room, moving at sixty miles an hour.“Where is she? I heard her voice! Where is Harriet?!”
“Tough luck, macho,” said Clarice. “Harriet and Diego are back together and she’ll scratch out the eyes of anyone who dares to come between them.” She shook her head. “That’s it,” she announced. “This is the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’m out.”