“But you played a bigger part than the rest of us,” Brutus said. “So you should get the credit.”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
Brutus slapped him on the back and Dooley hiccuped.“Sherlock Dooley. Got a nice ring to it.”
“I was just messing about online,” Dooley said nervously. “No biggie.”
“You made us all look good, buddy. Respect.”
“Thanks. I guess.”
“And you, Max, have completely lost your touch. I think it’s all that weight loss. It’s affected your brain. I knew this would happen.”
“You did?” I asked, wondering where he was going with this.
“Sure. You lose weight, you lose brain cells. And you, my friend, have lost so much weight you must have lost half of your brain. It’s a miracle you can still think straight. Quick, how much is nine divided by three?”
“T-three?”
He grinned at me.“You weren’t sure, were you? Admit it, Max. Your brain resembles a big chunk of cheese. Swiss cheese. With a big bunch of holes in it. More holes than cheese.”
I gulped, the vivid picture Brutus was painting affecting me powerfully.“You think?”
“Of course!” He shook his head sadly. “Good thing Dooley’s brain is as sharp as ever, or else Odelia would have to trade you in for a new model. Can’t have a cat sleuth with Swiss cheese for a brain.”
He was right, of course. I had been feeling a little weak lately. And after allowing Odelia to walk off into danger like that, it was obvious I was slipping and slipping badly.
“Don’t listen to him, Max,” said Dooley. “Your brain is fine.”
“But I have lost a lot of weight,” I said, gesturing at my flabby belly.
“Brains aren’t muscles,” Dooley said.
“Are you sure?”
He hesitated.“Reasonably.”
I shivered from head to toe. I could see my brain shrinking even more. Soon there would be nothing left!
“You know what I’ll do?” asked Brutus.
“What?”
“Just out of the goodness of my heart, mind you.”
“What is it?”
“From now on why don’t I assume a leadership role in this small outfit of ours?”
I found myself nodding even before he’d finished the sentence. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Dooley will be the brains of the operation—obviously. Harriet will be the pretty face. And I will run the outfit.”
“And me?” I asked in a feeble voice.
He eyed me sternly.“Why don’t I appoint you my assistant?”
“I would like that,” I said, still thinking about my cheesy brain. “But do you think I’m up to the task?”
“We’ll just have to wait and see,” he said. “Somehow I doubt it, Maxie baby, but I’m willing to take a chance on you. That’s the kind of cat I am. Kind-hearted and generous to a fault. Isn’t that right, babe?”
Harriet, still focused on the end of the garden, murmured her assent.
“What are you looking at, sweet cakes?” Brutus asked, annoyed now.
But Harriet didn’t respond. Instead, she jumped down from the swing and picked her way along the humans, who were all gathered around Doctor Tex, toasting his lovely wife Marge.
“What’s the matter with Harriet?” asked Dooley.
We followed Harriet with our eyes, and when she finally reached the hedge, she plunked down on her haunches and just sat there. At least, that’s what I thought. When I looked closer, I saw her lips were moving. She was talking to someone, and that someone was partially obscured by the boxwood hedge.
“Oh, my God,” said Dooley.
“What? What?!” Brutus cried.
“It’s… Diego.”
We all goggled at the scene, and when the orange cat finally emerged from the hedge, and rubbed noses with Harriet, we all gasped in shock.
Our mortal enemy Diego had returned.
“What do we do?” asked Dooley, panicking. “Brutus? What do we do?!”
But Brutus, our newly self-appointed leader, had been struck dumb. Finally, he turned to me.“Max!” he bleated like a sickly sheep. “What do we do?”
“But I thought you were our leader!”
“I can’t be the leader! This is Diego we’re talking about! And he’s stealing my woman! Again!”
“Well,I can’t be the leader. I have Swiss cheese for a brain!”
“I was just joshing you! Your brain is fine!”
“See?” asked Dooley. “Brains aren’t muscles. They’re… something else.”
A feeling of resolve stole over me as I regarded Diego, who’d casually draped a paw across Harriet’s shoulder and was looking more smug than ever. Then I said, “Winter is coming, fellas.”
“What does that even mean?!” Brutus cried, desperately shaking his paws.
I shrugged.“No idea. But it’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
Just then, Diego blew us a kiss, his face splitting into a particularly cheeky grin.
Brutus, Dooley and I watched him stoically. This meant war.
5.5. PURRFECT SANTA
Chapter 1
I’d actually been looking forward to sleeping in a little. Probably the cold and the darkness slowing down my metabolism or something. When the days get shorter and the nights longer I want to curl up in bed and sleep forever. Like badgers. Or is it bears? Unfortunately, I am neither. I am human and I own a cat, so no hibernation for me. I woke up when there was a loud crashing sound nearby, and when I opened my eyes I saw that Max, my red tomcat, and his buddy Dooley, my Gran’s ragamuffin, had managed to destroy my curtains. Tearing them down, curtain rod and all.
I groaned against the sudden light that hit my eyes.“Max! Dooley! Are you serious?”
“Sorry, Odelia,” said Dooley sheepishly. “We didn’t mean to destroy your curtains.”
“They’re not destroyed, Dooley,” said Max. “They’re just… temporarily displaced.”
I swung my feet from beneath the comforter and into my fuzzy pink rabbit slippers.“Oh, they’re destroyed,” I said, then yawned cavernously and stretched out.
I got up and walked over to the window to assess the damage. All in all, it wasn’t that bad. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed. I blinked at the world outside. A thick layer of snow had fallen overnight, covering the world in a blanket of white. The sun was out and lit up the snow like a field of diamonds. Ugh. Like a vampire, I shielded my eyes from the brightness, and wished I could go back to sleep.
“Can we go out and play, Odelia?” asked Dooley excitedly.
“Sure. But I have to warn you guys. It’s a lot colder than it looks.”
The two cats scrambled from the room and down the stairs. I decided to follow at a much more leisurely pace, and not before fixing my curtains. They weren’t actually ruined. The rod had tumbled down from its support. So I dragged up a chair and returned it to its original position.
Once downstairs, I started up the coffeemaker, took my favorite cup from the cupboard—the one that says ‘crazy cat lady’—and ambled over to the sliding glass door to look out. The cats had already made their way outside, and were gingerly testing out the snow. It was a cute sight. They carefully sunk their paws into the mass of white, then quickly extracted them again. No matter how many times they experienced snow, each time it seemed like the first time. Five minutes in, they were inside again, shaking off the snow.
“Too cold!” Dooley lamented.
“Too wet!” Max grumbled.
“I told you,” I said with a smile, and watched them hop onto the couch and promptly doze off. Cold and wet. Two things all cats seem to hate. I didn’t think I’d get them outside again this winter. Which was a pity, as my work as a reporter doesn’t stop just because temperatures drop. And my cats are my eyes and ears. They spot things that remain hidden to humans, and are my best sources of information. My name is Odelia Poole, by the way, and I’m not just a reporter at the Hampton Cove Gazette, but also a civilian consultant with the local police, helping them solve crime from time to time, something else my feline sleuths help me with.
I poured myself some coffee, gratefully curling my fingers around the cup, and took little sips.