The big advantage of being a cat is that we’re pretty much invisible. We can stalk around and people will simply pat our heads and go on discussing their latest killing spree or plot a fresh massacre without a care in the world. That’s why we’re the world’s best spies. Well, flies would make even better spies, I suppose, as they can, you know, buzz around from suspect to suspect. But I’ve never heard of a fly living long enough to tell its tale to its human owner. Even supposing flies have human owners, of course, which I don’t think they have. Flies don’t provide as much warmth and affection as cats do.
We wandered about the house, and our first port of call was the kitchen. I think we were both curious to see what kind of food Kane was being fed.
The kitchen was an all-white, very spacious affair, with a gigantic butcher block in the center, and all the usual gleaming appliances occupying the enormous space. You could film a cooking show here. Maybe they did. We followed our noses, and padded into what looked like a mudroom, with coats on racks and boots neatly placed beneath them. And there it was: a placemat with two large bowls. We eagerly trotted up, and I have to say I was disappointed to find both bowls empty. Fortunately for Kane the Kenspeckles had invested in a Drinkwell. I wasn’t thirsty, though, and neither was Dooley.
“No food?” he asked.
“Looks like.”
“How is that even possible?!”
I was starting to feel sorry for the annoying little yapper. First his human was murdered by some maniac with a meat cleaver, then he’d been attacked by a feral cat, and chased around the pool by a violent intruder, and now, to add insult to injury, the Kenspeckles had forgotten to feed him.
“Looks like Kane has a lot to complain about,” said Dooley.
“Yeah, a thing like this would never happen in our home.”
We shared a look of understanding. Odelia’s place might not be the palatial house the Kenspeckles could afford, but at least she’d never forgotten to feed us, and neither had her mom or Gran. In that sense, we had it made.
“Come to gloat?” suddenly a raspy voice asked.
We turned in surprise, and saw that Kane sat glaring at us.
“Oh, no,” I said. “Far from it. Just curious to see how the other half lives.”
“The other half lives rottenly,” he said, and I noticed he spoke with a lisp, as if he had a speech impediment. Or maybe all dogs spoke like that. I wouldn’t know. I rarely move in canine circles. I’m strictly a feline person.
“Yeah, I can see that,” I said. “They forgot to feed you, didn’t they?”
He plunked down on his haunches and stared at us a little wearily.
“Shana used to feed me, but I guess that’s over now. She died, you know.”
“Yeah, we know,” said Dooley.
“That’s why we’re here,” I said. “We’re investigating her murder.”
“Trying to figure out whodunnit,” Dooley added, in case it wasn’t clear.
Kane nodded forlornly.“She was a good human. Always bought me the best food and allowed me to sleep on the bed. Took me everywhere, she did. Hong Kong, the Bahamas, Europe… We traveled the world together.”
“That’s nice,” I said, for lack of a better response. I didn’t care a hoot about traveling. I’m something of a homebody. Traveling gives me the willies.
“So what happened to your friend?” he asked. “The one that’s been chasing me all over the place?”
“Oh, he’s not our friend,” I hastened to say. “More an acquaintance.”
“Brutus has this theory,” Dooley said. “He wants you to confirm it.”
“Theory? What theory?”
“Well, that your human was killed by a huge, ferocious dog.”
“A dog that bit her head off,” I added helpfully.
“He thinks the Kenspeckles are hiding this dog in the basement, afraid the police will find out and accuse them of being assassins to murder.”
“Accessories,” I corrected him. “Accessories to murder.”
Kane stared at us for a moment, then frowned. He looked even sadder than usual, and bulldogs have a pretty sad face to begin with. “I always knew cats were nuts,” he said. “But now I finally have proof. You two are cuckoo.”
“Oh, no. We don’t believe any of Brutus’s ideas either,” said Dooley.
“You don’t?” This seemed to surprise the bulldog.
“No, we think he’s cuckoo, too,” I said. “I mean, no dog can produce a bite force of enough pounds of pressure to sever the human spinal cord.” I laughed. “They’d need jaws of steel to accomplish such a feat.” Dooley and Kane were staring at me, so I was quick to add, “I watch theDiscovery Channel.MythBusters? Such a great show. If you’re into that kind of thing, of course.” Which Dooley and my new canine friend obviously weren’t.
“I still don’t get what that’s got to do with me,” said Kane.
“Brutus figures you and this nonexistent Jaws of Steel are buddies, seeing as you’re both dogs and all, and he hopes you’ll squeal on your chum.”
The bulldog’s frown deepened, and now he actually looked like Tommy Lee Jones having a bad day. “He’s crazy,” he said curtly.
“Pretty much our opinion as well,” I said.
“Heis crazy,” Dooley confirmed.
“And dangerous. He said he was going to cut me. He’s a menace.”
“Yeah, well, his meow is worse than his bite,” I said.
“If you have to know, I’m the only dog on the premises. There are no other pets allowed in the house—though it’s obvious the Kenspeckles are slacking on the rules now that Shana’s gone. She always said I was her one and only Kenspeckle prince, and she wanted to keep it that way. She got me endorsement deals, and was prepping me for my own TV show, debuting in the fall. Damien was even designing a collection for me. My own fashion line. He was calling it Kane’s Kraze.” He sighed and plunked his head down on his paws, looking sad. “All gone now. No Shana. No TV show. No fashion line.”
“What about the other Kenspeckles?” I asked, feeling sorry for the dog.
“Yeah, I’ll bet they’ll adopt you now,” said Dooley.
He lifted his shoulders in an almost imperceptible shrug.“I liked Shana. She was the sweetest of the bunch.” He licked his snout with his long, pink tongue. “You see what’s happening, don’t you? The minute Shana’s gone they forget about me. I’m going to starve to death in this place. I’ll be forced to fend for myself. Forage for food in the Hampton Cove jungle. Survive.”
“We don’t have a jungle in Hampton Cove,” I said. “Only a park.”
“And a forest. But that’s where Clarice rules,” Dooley added.
“The cat that tried to cut you,” I clarified.
He groaned.“I’m doomed.”
“You’re not doomed. You’re a celebrity,” I said. “You’ve got fan clubs, an Instagram page, Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat. Literally millions of fans.”
“I do? I didn’t even know. I guess Shana set all that up in my name.”
“What I mean is that you’ll be well taken care of. You’re an icon, Kane.”
This perked him up a little. At least his ears were pointing up again.
“Yeah, the Kenspeckles aren’t going to let anything happen to you,” Dooley said.
“They almost did. They allowed this crazy cat to chase me around the pool about a billion times and then do a death leap into the pool. Good thing Boa was there, or I might have drowned.”
“Boa?” I asked.
“Stanbury Boa. Bodyguard. He runs the security detail that protects the Kenspeckles.”
“And he’s probably going to get fired,” Dooley muttered.
He was right. Bodyguards get fired when the bodies they’re hired to guard are found dead. I wondered why the ax hadn’t fallen yet on Boa’s employment.
“I’m sure they’re all a little preoccupied right now,” I told Kane. “What with the murder and all. Speaking of murder, we have it from a usually reliable source that you actually witnessed the murder? Is that true?”