“Uh-oh. I know your hunches, Poole. They’re freakishly accurate.”
“Which is why I need you to do me a favor.”
“Of course. I’ll come over and brave Granny.”
She smiled. “Maybe later. First I want you to check something for me.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
Chapter 35
“And that’s why I think time is of the essence,” I concluded my long speech.
The members of cat choir all stared at me, and so did the members of the Most Interesting Cats in the World troupe. As usual, they’d been hanging out at the park, limbering up those vocal chords, and practicing their dance moves. So when we joined them, the last thing they expected was to be treated to the kind of explanation usually reserved for the final scenes of a Hallmark Movies & Mysteries Channel presentation.
“You can’t possibly expect us to believe you,” said Princess, the first one to speak.
“I do, actually,” I said.
“Max is right,” said Shadow. “Philippe killed my human, and now he is after his next scalp.”
“You’re biased,” said Princess. “I’m not listening to you.”
“Of course she’s biased,” I said. “Her human was blown up. And now your human is in prison facing a life sentence for a murder he didn’t commit. How can you sit there and pretend to be fine with that? If Curt Pigott goes to prison your cushy life is over, Princess. You’ll spend the rest of your days at the pound. Is that a chance you’re willing to take?”
Princess gulped at this. “The pound?” she asked, her voice suddenly squeaky.
“Where all cats go to die,” Dooley intoned gloomily.
“I don’t want to go to the pound,” Princess squealed, now only audible to dogs.
“You’re not going to the pound,” said the Most Iconic Cat in the World.
“There must be someone to take care of you when your human goes to jail,” said Fat Amy, the Sexiest Cat Alive. “Someone—anyone?” she added when Princess gave her a look of panic.
“There’s Leo, Curt’s nephew, but he’s a terror. Hates cats. Hates me!”
“Don’t worry, Princess,” said Beca, the Most Attractive Cat in the World. “I’m sure you can come and live with me. Bobbie will take you in.”
“No, he won’t!” cried Princess. “Bobbie hates Curt’s guts. They all hate Curt’s guts!”
“That’s true,” said Chloe, the Most Intriguing Cat in the World. “My human hates Curt. I heard him tell his mother that Curt going to prison is karma in action. And how he hopes to take over Curt’s position as Most Compelling Man in the World. He wants to snag Curt’s crown and become the Most Compelling Intriguing Man in the World. A real first.”
“And don’t think Philippe will stop here,” I told them. “When he’s done with Chief Alec he’ll come after your humans next. He won’t stop until they’re all dead or in jail. And then he’ll be the Most Fascinating, Compelling, Intriguing, Iconic, Attractive and Sexy Man in the World and all of you will be at the pound, wondering why you didn’t try to stop him.”
It was the kind of speech designed to rally the troops and stir them into action, and I could sense that I’d hit the right note this time. Cat choir, meanwhile, was still looking at me like a bunch of lookie-loos, unlikely to be of any help to us or our mission whatsoever.
“And you,” I said therefore, pointing at Shanille and company, “how many times has Chief Alec saved your hides? How many times has he called the fire department when you were stuck in a tree? How many times did he reprimand your human when they weren’t treating you right? He’s a good man, and now he needs us to save him for a change. So how about it? Are you with me?”
I would like to say that they reared up as one cat and yelled Yes! but unfortunately they did not. As I said before, cats are notoriously self-absorbed, and I’m afraid cat choir is no exception.
“What’s in it for us?!” a raggedy tabby cried from the balcony—or, rather, a tree.
“Yeah, why would we stick our necks out for some stupid human?” shouted another.
“Free kibble for all!” suddenly piped up Brutus. “That’s right,” he added when all eyes turned to him. “If you help us out tonight there’s free kibble for all as your reward.”
“Who’s gonna pay for that? You?”
“Uncle Alec will be so happy with what we did for him that he’ll be happy to put on a feast to end all feasts,” said Brutus. “I know the guy and that’s just what he’d do.”
“What kind of kibble?” asked a suspicious twenty-something old-timer.
“Yeah, not the generic kind. I get enough of that at home,” said another.
“We want prime brand kibble or we ain’t moving a paw!” cried a third.
“These cats are driving a tough bargain,” said Brutus, blowing out a breath.
Finally I held up my paws. “Prime brand kibble for all!”
“Lifetime supply?” asked a cheeky little red cat.
“Don’t push it, Brandon,” Brutus growled.
“You cats should be ashamed of yourselves!” suddenly a voice rang out through the park. When we looked up we saw that Clarice had joined us. Perched high on a tree branch, she was looking down on cat choir, her fiery eyes shooting flame, her expression murderous.
“Clarice,” said Shanille feebly. “What an honor.”
Clarice is something of a legend in Hampton Cove’s cat community. Feared and admired. Her appearance now was akin to the return of Luke Skywalker. If Luke Skywalker were a battle-scarred old warrior, living in self-chosen exile on the edge of our world. Oh, wait, he is.
“You weak, spineless, gutless bunch of sissy cats!” Clarice now thundered from her perch. “You shapeless blobs of self-indulgence! How dare you demand prime kibble in exchange for saving the life of the man who keeps this town running? The man who keeps the riffraff out? The man whose selflessness and sense of service is the stuff of legend? Whose commitment to Hampton Cove is the backbone of this community? Its very heart? You should be honored to serve the man who serves you. Not demand your pound of flesh!”
“More like a pound of kibble,” piped up one cat, then ducked down his head shamefacedly when Clarice hissed in his direction.
“You’re right, Clarice,” finally said Shanille. “My human would say the same thing. Shame on you, Father Reilly would say. Shame on you for refusing to help a man in this, his hour of need. We need to come together as a community now and save one of our own.”
It wasn’t as effective as Clarice’s speech, but heads were bowed, tails were tucked between legs, and finally it was agreed we should do what it took to save Uncle Alec from certain doom.
At least if I was right and he was, indeed, in mortal danger.
Admittedly I wasn’t a hundred percent sure about that.
I was almost sure, though. Let’s say ninety percent.
Maybe eighty. Possibly seventy…
Definitely fifty, though.
Chapter 36
Philippe Goldsmith pulled up his collar. In spite of the late hour he wasn’t absolutely convinced the streets were deserted. They should have been, but you never know with these sleepy little towns. Some old-timer might very well be up and about before dawn to walk his ratty old canine. Or some crusty old dame might be sitting at her window, cat in her lap, spying on the neighbors. Or a bird watcher, training his binoculars on a rare spotted owl.
And so it was that he furtively checked left and right as he walked on, his head retreating and emerging from his collar like a particularly timid turtle’s. It didn’t help that he had night vision trouble. During the daytime he saw just fine, but as soon as the sun went down the world turned a little blurry around the edges. He nervously pushed his glasses up his nose and squinted into the darkness that surrounded him.
There. Was that a cat meowing? When he stopped and turned, he thought he saw a furry form scurrying behind a tree, ducking out of sight. Weird. He’d never seen so many cats since his arrival in town. It was almost as if this freaky little place sported more cats than humans. They should have called it Cat Cove instead of Hampton Cove.