“Dooley loves General Hospital,” I explained. “He watches it with one of our other humans, Odelia’s grandmother.”
“Okay, so Neda and Janette are both members of the same choir. The St. Theresa Choir. And two weeks ago the previous choir conductor, Samuel Smalls, died of a heart attack. So a new choir director had to be picked. And since that’s Father Reilly’s prerogative, he suggested that all the candidates put their name in the proverbial hat and he would select the best one—or the one he felt was most qualified for the job.”
“And Neda and Janette were both candidates?” I asked, starting to see where the story was going.
Sugar nodded.“Janette always wanted to be choir director. In fact she’s been practicing for years, hoping one day to take over from old Mr. Smalls. She even claims she had some kind of arrangement with Samuel. That when he decided to retire, he would appoint her his successor. Only he died before he could name a successor, and then suddenly it was up to Father Reilly. Janette wasn’t worried, though. Everyone knew that she’d been gunning for the position for years, and that she’d been preparing, even going so far as to take lessons from Samuel Smalls, so she’d be ready when the time came. Only when the time did come, suddenly Neda also threw her name in the hat, even though she knew Janette wanted the position. So Janette felt betrayed.”
“Had they been friends before that?”
“Not really friends, but at least they hadn’t fought like cats and dogs, pardon the pun,” he added with a grin.
I smiled an uncertain smile. I didn’t like the pun, and neither did Dooley, I could tell, for he was moving a little more behind my broad back.
“So it was between Janette and Neda?” I asked.
“There were three candidates, actually,” said Sugar. “Neda, Janette and Yoko Bricknell. But even though Janette felt hurt and betrayed by Neda, she was sure that Father Reilly would pick her… until he didn’t.”
“He picked Neda.”
“He did. And ever since then it’s been all-out war. Janette has sworn a solemn oath that she would prove that Neda was the worst choice as choir director, and set out on a campaign of sabotage.”
“Sabotage?” I asked.
“She’s been derailing every rehearsal Neda has led, and this morning she quit.”
“Quit?”
“If you’re going to keep repeating everything I say you’re going to make this a very difficult conversation, Max,” said Sugar with an eyeroll. “Yes, quit. Janette walked out of the rehearsal, vowing never to return.”
“Ouch,” I said.
Sugar studied me for a long moment.“You know, there’s something I’ve always wondered.”
“Yes, what?” I asked, grateful that Sugar had revealed such an important piece of information, one I was eager to share with Odelia the moment we were back in the car.
“Is it dogs that can run the fastest? Or cats?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said, but before I could ask more questions about Neda and Janette, suddenly Sugar had sprung to life and was chasing me! It was all I could do to stay ahead of him, as he was yapping up a storm, and putting on a burst of speed the likes of which I’d never before witnessed from a creature as small as him!
He raced me around the room, causing me to jump up and down couches, ignoring frantic cries from our humans to stop this nonsense right now—it wasn’t me who started this nonsense!—and finally jump up onto the table, upend a bowl of potpourri someone had placed there for some strange reason, and take a long jump straight into the curtains, then quickly work my way up those same curtains until I was near the ceiling. Looking down I saw I’d finally managed to shake off my tormentor!
“Congratulations, Max!” Sugar yelled from down below. “You won this round! But I can tell you right now that the next round is mine! Mine, you hear! Mine!”
6
Our next stop was the pet salon where Janette Bittiner claimed she’d dropped off her precious pet—or raging terror in my opinion—and so soon Dooley’s wish to find out what went on behind the closed doors of this establishment would finally come true.
“You moved so fast back there, Max,” said Dooley as we eagerly glanced around the small space of the pet palace. “I didn’t even know you could climb curtains like that!”
“I didn’t know either,” I confessed. “I’ve never climbed curtains before, at least not to my recollection.”
“Pity you destroyed them, and the carpet.”
“Not my fault,” I pointed out. “If Sugar hadn’t chased me, I wouldn’t have felt the need to run like the wind.”
“And run like the wind you certainly did!” said my friend, the admiration in his voice making me feel warm and fuzzy inside despite my recent run-in with a rabid dog.
On a table in the center of the pet salon, a small dog was being primped to his heart’s content, and on what looked like a barber’s chair another dog, this one not so small, was having his coat given a relaxing treatment with a soft brush. It shone like spun gold.
I gulped a little. Coming so close on the heels of my contretemps with a member of the canine species, the last thing I was looking for was to be in the same room with two more members of that same species. These dogs didn’t look dangerous, though. Then again, Sugar hadn’t looked all that dangerous, either!
“Hi,” said Chase when a woman approached the counter located near the entrance. He showed her his badge and immediately a wary look came into the young woman’s eyes. People often have that reaction when Chase shows them his badge.
“Why does she look like she’s about to be arrested, Max?” asked Dooley, who had noticed the same phenomenon.
“I think the presence of a police officer makes people feel guilty, even if they haven’t done anything wrong,” I explained.
“But if they haven’t done anything wrong, why should they feel guilty?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe they think they might have done something, but they’re not sure what.”
“I don’t understand. How can you do something wrong and not know what it was?”
I gave him a smile.“If I walked up to you and said, ‘Dooley, look what you did!’ wouldn’t you feel anxious, even though for the life of you, you can’t remember what it was that you’re supposed to have done?”
He thought about that for a brief moment, then shook his head.“No, I wouldn’t.”
He was the wrong cat to ask, of course. Dooley would never do anything wrong. He’s just not that kind of cat. His conscience is clear, and so he doesn’t have anything to worry about, even if the police suddenly do show up on his doorstep, and flash a badge in his face. But humans are different. They live in a world with so many rules it’s inevitable that by lunchtime they will have broken a couple of them, even inadvertently. Maybe they started to cross the street before the light changed, or maybe they forgot to pay their car insurance, or inadvertently jumped the line at their local Starbucks.
“I just want to verify that Janette Bittiner was in here earlier,” said Chase, trying his best to put the young pet shop employee at ease by offering her a disarming smile.
“Janette? Yeah, she was in here,” said the girl, visibly glad Chase wasn’t there for her.
“Could you tell us what time? Just part of a routine inquiry,” he hastened to add.
And while the young woman searched her memory, Dooley and I inspected the place. They did indeed have everything your pampered pet needs: a nail clipping station, a grooming station, a place where pets could be deloused, if they so chose, and even a small assortment of toys and clothes for your proud pet to wear!
We studied the clothes long and hard, but couldn’t for the life of us imagine ever wearing anything like that.
“I always thought it was just humans who liked to wear clothes and shoes, Max,” Dooley said as he intently studied a pink tutu.
“Dogs, too,” I said.
“Sugar, you mean.”