“I still don’t get it,” said Dooley. “Why would Abbey go to all this trouble—risk her career and her life—to get rid of Kimberlee?”
“Because Kimberlee had a secret she held over her husband’s head like the sword of Damocles,” I said. When Dooley gave me a blank look, I explained, “Kimberlee was blackmailing Seger with a secret from his past.”
“I know all about that—but what secret could be so big to make him do what she told him to?”
“Uncle Alec figured that out,” I said as I chewed on a tasty veal patty. “Apparently Seger was involved in a hit-and-run accident when he was a teenager. His dad was a prosecutor at the time and managed to bury the police report. Kimberlee had gotten wind of it and threatened to reveal the truth. It would have killed Seger’s career and tarnished that of his dad. So he preferred to take Kimberlee on as a client rather than have her destroy his career.”
“She was not a nice person,” said Dooley judiciously.
“No, she was not.”
“I solved the case,” said Harriet, who was lying next to me. “I actually cracked this case. I’m the one who found the telling clue.”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly the telling clue,” I said, then, when she gave me a censorious look, I quickly changed my tune. “It was a very important clue.”
It was true. In a roundabout way it had led to the killer.
“I’m just glad it wasn’t Emerald that did it,” said Harriet. “I love Emerald. She’s one of the biggest stars in the world. I hope she’ll never stop acting.”
“I bet she won’t,” I said. “A woman like Emerald can keep on acting until she’s standing with one foot in the grave, and even then she’ll make it fascinating to watch.”
Out in the backyard, Chase was darting occasional looks in our direction, then shaking his head, a bemused grin on his face.
“I still can’t believe you can actually talk to your cats,” he told Odelia.
“You bet we can,” said Marge, as she ladled more potato salad on her plate and dug in. “It’s a blessing. How many cases have you solved this way, Odelia? A dozen? More?”
“Probably,” Odelia said as she kept a close eye on her dad, who was spacing out again, at risk of allowing his burgers to burn to crisps.
“It’s a blessing, and a curse,” said Gran. “A blessing because it’s a lot of fun to listen to those sweethearts and their conversation—they’re like a bunch of toddlers—they just crack me up each time they open their little mouths.”
“You know we can hear you, right?” I said.
She held up her hand.“And a curse because they just won’t stop yacking. Day and night, they just go on and on and on. Yackety yackety yak. No end.”
“That’s it,” Harriet snapped. “I’m not saying another word.”
“Do we talk too much?” asked Brutus.
“Some of you talk more than others,” Gran said, then pointed a finger at Harriet. “I’m not pointing fingers.”
“Sheis pointing fingers, though,” said Dooley.
“It’s a human thing,” I said. “They say one thing and mean something entirely different.”
“It’s very confusing.”
“It is confusing,” I agreed.
“I wish they wouldn’t do that.”
“Just let it go, Dooley.”
“But I don’t get it.”
“See?” said Gran. “What did I tell you? Yackety-yak.”
“It’s fun, though,” said Marge. “They’re so much fun.”
“I know, right!” said Gran. “That’s my problem. I can’t deny those furballs a thing. Anything they want, I give them. They’re my Achilles heel.”
Chase had wandered over and took a seat on the swing next to us.“So tell me, what do they say about me? Do they like me? Hate me? What?”
Marge and Odelia shared a look.“You don’t want to know,” said Marge.
“They think you’re a great guy,” said Uncle Alec.
“And how would you know?” said Gran. “You don’t understand a word they say.”
“I can tell from the expression on their faces,” said Uncle Alec, taking a swig from his beer.
We all looked up at Chase, and I said reverently,“We think Chase is amazing.”
“We think he’s Jesus,” said Dooley. “But without the sheep.”
“He saved my life once,” I said. “No, twice. Or is it three times?”
“He’s the hunkiest male I’ve ever met,” said Brutus. “Definitely not a pussy or a girly man like most. A man’s man.”
“Whatever that means,” said Harriet with an eyeroll.
“It means he’s my hero,” said Brutus.
“I thought your hero was Caitlyn Jenner?” said Harriet. “You were going to change yourself into a woman, remember?”
“Oh, that was just a whim,” said Brutus with a gesture of his paw.
“I wonder if Chase is neutered, just like we are,” said Dooley now.
“He doesn’t look neutered,” said Brutus.
“How can you tell?” asked Harriet.
“I’ve seen him without his clothes,” Brutus revealed. “He doesn’t look neutered to me. He still has all his… assets. And they’re quite formidable.”
Harriet’s eyes lit up with a renewed fervor. “He’s not Jesus,” she said now, reverently. “The man is a God. A superhero.”
“Hey, and what am I? Chopped liver?”
“You’re a demi-god, okay?” she snapped.
“I should have listened to Kingman,” Brutus grumbled. “He told me there’s a shop where they sell Neuticles.”
“They sell what now?” I asked.
“Neuticles. Prosthetic testicular implants. They’re made of silicone and look just like the real thing. They make them for neutered male pets, so they wouldn’t feel so bad about having their appendages removed.”
“Oh, just grow a pair,” said Harriet, shaking her head.
“That’s just it—I can’t. But I can buy a pair.”
“Oh, my god,” she groaned.
“It’s a thing!” said Brutus.
“Brutus, baby, when are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that I don’t care what you’re packing? It’s you I love, not your equipment.”
“Oh, honey lamb,” he said, mollified.
“Oh, snuggle pooh,” she said.
Kissing ensued, and both Dooley and I rolled our eyes and looked away.
“If this is what birds and bees do, I’m not sure I want to know about it,” Dooley said.
“I hear you, Dooley,” I said. “I hear you.”
“So?” said Chase blithely. “What’s the verdict? Do they like me or do they like me?”
But Marge, Odelia and Gran were too busy rolling on the floor laughing.
That’s one other thing us cats have: apart from the gift of the gab, we make people laugh.
And isn’t that the greatest gift of all?