“That’s not even a word,” said Max.
“Yes, it is! And you be quiet, Max. I don’t want you to influence Odelia.”
They were all staring at her so intently it was slightly disconcerting. Something was going on here—she could feel it—but she couldn’t exactly put her finger on it. She had to admit that there was some truth to what Brutus was saying. She did like Max the most. And this probably was because he was hers and had been with her the longest. But that didn’t mean she didn’t love the others. She loved all of her cats, though right now they were scaring her a little. “Look, the human mind may work like you say it does, Milo, but my mind doesn’t.”
“It has to,” said Milo. “You’re human, so you have a human mind.”
“I don’t care, all right?” she said, now dislodging the cats. “I like all of you guys. I don’t have a favorite and that’s that.” A little white lie but she didn’t think cats could read minds. Or could they? Brutus was trying his best to do just that. But finally he relented.
“I believe you,” he announced seriously.
She laughed. “I’m glad you do. Now are you going to help me catch a killer today or are you going to poop all over the house like you did yesterday?”
“That was Dooley,” said Brutus immediately.
“But only because I’ve got worms!” Dooley cried.
Yep. Something was going on with her cats, but right now she had a killer to catch—and a grandmother and a father to reconcile—and an article on President Wilcox to write.
When she got downstairs, Gran was digging holes in the backyard with such a fervor she reminded Odelia of a gang of moles. She walked to the door. “Gran? What’s going on?”
Gran looked up with a resolute expression on her face. “I’m building a mausoleum.”
“A what?”
“Your father has decided to send me to an early grave so I’m building a mausoleum. And I hope he’ll spend the rest of his life staring at my tomb and remembering he was the one who put me there!”
And with these words, she dug her spade into the ground and returned to her grim endeavor.
Shaking her head, Odelia set foot for the kitchen. She needed coffee. Lots of it.
Chapter 30
Odelia and Chase were on the road again, only this time five cats rode in the back, much to Chase’s amusement.
“You’re the only one who treats her cats like dogs,” he said.
“That’s because they are almost like dogs,” she retorted. She cast a quick glance in the rearview mirror and saw that the cold war still hadn’t thawed. Usually her cats kept up a pleasant chatter but today there hung a silence like the tomb between them. She didn’t know who was fighting with whom but it looked to her like they all had some kind of beef.
At least they’d come back last night with some valuable information. “So what have you got on those two men? One short, one tall—”
“Strawberry nose and mustache. I got it. So far nothing. It’s not exactly a very detailed description. Can’t you bring your source in and let them work with a sketch artist?”
She glanced back at Max, who shook his head. “Rabbits won’t like it,” he intimated.
No, the rabbits wouldn’t like to come in and talk to the sketch artist. “Nope,” she said therefore. “They won’t come forward, I’m afraid.”
“They? There’s more than one?”
“One rabbit is called Alfie, the other Victorine,” said Dooley helpfully.
“Odelia?” Chase prompted.
She shook her head resolutely. “I already said too much.”
“But why? Have you explained to them they could be helping to solve a murder?”
“They know but they still won’t come in. They—”
“Hate cats,” said Dooley.
“Have an issue with the police,” she said.
Chase was frowning. “I see. So they’re implicated somehow. Did they sell information to the killers? Give up the location of Dickerson’s safe? Are they members of his staff? No, I got it.” He nodded grimly. “They’re members of the Potbelly farm staff, aren’t they?”
“Bingo,” said Dooley. “He’s good, Odelia.”
“The rabbits aren’t staff, though,” said Max.
“But they work hard. Did you see that tunnel? Must have taken them ages.”
“It’s called a burrow,” said Milo. “Rabbits are master architects. Like ants.”
“Ants aren’t rabbits,” said Max.
“And how would you know, Max?” asked Brutus. “You’re not a scientist.”
“Max watches a lot of Discovery Channel documentaries,” said Dooley.
“I watch a lot of WWE. That doesn’t make me Hulk Hogan.”
“Oh, shut up, Brutus,” said Max.
“No, you shut up, Max!”
“Guys, guys,” said Milo. “Enough with the violence. There are ladies present.”
Odelia realized Chase was waiting for her to respond. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t reveal my source. But you’re right. They work at the Potbelly farm. They just happened to see the burglars. They never sold them any information, though. And they don’t have any connection to them or Dickerson or the murder. They just—”
“Don’t want to get involved,” he said. “I get it.”
“They don’t want to risk their position on the farm”, Odelia confirmed.
“They could always create another burrow,” said Milo. “Rabbits are pack animals. They could simply up and leave and find some other place to live and hunt.”
“Rabbits aren’t pack animals,” said Max heatedly. “And ducks aren’t smarter than humans. You’re so full of—”
“Max!” said Brutus, gesturing to Harriet. “Lady present!”
“—dung! I was going to say he’s full of dung!”
“What’s going on with your cats?” asked Chase, darting a quick look over his shoulder. “They’re so feisty today. Meowing up a storm. Is it the weather, you think?”
“Yup. Weather is about to change,” she confirmed.
Dua Lipa broke into song and she picked out her phone. “Yes, Mr. Paunch.”
“Otto, please. Mr. Paunch is my dad. So have I got the scoop for you, Odelia.”
“Yes?”
“Van Wilcox just got a call from the mayor of New York. They want to erect a statue in his honor. In the middle of Times Square if you please! And lemme tell you that it’s going to be the biggest, grandest statue ever erected for any President anywhere in the world.”
“The biggest? You mean bigger than the six hundred feet Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel statue in India?”
“Sure! Much bigger. This will be the greatest thing ever built. It’s gonna be huge! And tall. Really tall. Incredibly tall. Like I said, the biggest statue in the world. In history!”
“That’s quite an achievement, Mr. Paunch—Otto. The President must be excited.” She glanced over to Chase, who was listening intently.
“Oh, he is. He’s over the moon. He can’t wait to pose for the thing.”
“He’s going to pose?”
“Sure! Only the best pose ever, in front of the best artist ever.”
“Who’s the artist?”
“I’d have to get back to you on that, but it’s the best artist in the world. The greatest.”
And promptly Paunch disconnected again and left Odelia pensively staring at her phone. “Have you ever had that feeling where you’re sure you’ve heard a voice before but you just can’t place it? I’m getting that all the time with this Paunch guy.”
“What did he want?”
“Oh, New York is building a statue for President Wilcox in Times Square. He wanted me to have the scoop.”
“Great,” said Chase, shaking his head. “Another eyesore. Just what the city needs.”
“Oh, you don’t know that. If it’s really the tallest statue ever built, it will attract a lot of tourists, and tourists bring in the big bucks, right?”