“We have Rufus now.”
They eyed the big dog who was gamboling around like a puppy, sniffing butts to his heart’s content, and Harriet sighed. “It’s not exactly the same, though, is it?”
Brutus gave her a gentle nudge.“Just hang in there. You’ll like it, you’ll see.”
“Remind me again why we’re doing this?”
“Because we’re tired of all the excitement,” said Brutus. “The murder and the mayhem the Pooles are always getting involved with. At least now we have a peaceful life. Nothing but peace and quiet.”
Just then, a smallish dog with a squashed-up face came tripping up, and before Brutus could stop it, it had taken a good sniff at his butt.
“Hey!” Harriet cried. “No sniffing my boyfriend’s butt, all right!”
“Hold your horses, sister,” said the doggie indignantly. “This is the dog park. Nothing is off-limits here.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t they tell you? Dog park is where dogs go native.”
“Native?”
“Back to nature, baby! Now let me get a good whiff of your perky little—okay, I guess that ain’t happening,” the doggie added when Harriet unsheathed a very sharp claw.
She eyed her mate narrowly.“We’re in Sodom and Gomorrah, Brutus. Sodom and Gomorrah for dogs!”
8
Since Odelia wasn’t really in the mood for golf, we returned to the golf club bar instead, where she took a table outside and ordered a coffee and started writing down bits and bobs of the chat she’d just had with Carl Strauss in the hopes of turning it into a short piece about the guy at a later date.
Dooley and I took up position underneath her chair and when a waitress provided us with a bowl of milk we were bowled over with the kindness she’d shown us, coming so shortly upon the heels of the attack on our lives by Mr. Strauss, clearly not a cat person.
“I don’t think I like Carl Strauss, Max,” said Dooley.
“No, I don’t like him very much either,” I had to admit.
“He hates cats, and he tried to kill me.”
“Yeah, not exactly the kind of behavior that makes a positive impression.”
“So he’s not only a sex maniac but also a cat killer,” Dooley concluded. “In other words, not a nice person.”
I smiled.“Dooley, you really have a way with words.”
But before we could thresh the matter out a little more, suddenly two unexpected visitors drew up chairs and joined us at the table. Reading from left to right, they were Gran and Scarlett!
“And? How did it go with the golf pro?” asked Vesta, eyeing her granddaughter closely, presumably looking for bite marks on her neck, or hickeys as I think they’re called in sex maniac jargon.
“His wife dropped by the office this morning,” Odelia explained, putting down her tools of the trade for a moment, “to ask if I could talk to her husband and make him grant her the divorce she wants.”
“Carl Strauss is getting divorced?” asked Scarlett. “Again?”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t want to. He claims Erica will change her mind again and realize she still loves him. Though if you ask me the guy is delusional.”
“He tried to kill me,” said Dooley.
“Kill you!” Gran cried.
“Yeah, he thought Dooley was an intruder and tried to whack him over the head with a golf club,” Odelia confirmed.
“He called me fat and orange,” I said sadly. “Basically an orange fatty.”
“Oh, dear,” said Gran, and patted me on the head for my trouble, and picked Dooley up and placed him on her lap.
I guess she figured I was too heavy to do that. Or maybe I was just seeing things. It’s not every day that I’m called orange and fat. But Dooley did just survive an attempt on his life, which is a lot worse than being called an opprobrious name and the wrong color.
“What are they saying?” asked Scarlett, who then had the decency to pick me up and place me on her lap. So of course I rewarded her with plenty of purring!
“Carl tried to kill Dooley and called Max fat and orange,” Gran explained.
“Oh, the poor darlings!” said Scarlett, endearing herself to me even more than she already had. She plucked at my ears. “He’s a bad, bad, bad man, isn’t he, Max?”
“He sure is,” I said, a little piteously.
“At least he didn’t do them any harm,” said Odelia, “which is more than I can say about the divorce that isn’t happening.”
“Can’t Erica hire some ace lawyer? One of those people who can work miracles?”
“She can’t afford one of those miracle workers. Carl froze all of her bank accounts, canceled her credit cards and is blackballing her in the modeling world, making sure she’ll never work again as long as she doesn’t comply with his wishes.”
“I don’t get it,” said Scarlett. “What is this? The nineteenth century? You can’t hold a woman hostage like that. If she doesn’t want to stay married to the guy she should be able to get rid of him.”
“It’s not as simple as that,” said Odelia.
“Maybe you can write an article denouncing him,” Gran suggested. “Tell the world Erica’s story. Maybe then he’ll think twice about treating her like his personal property.”
“Dan asked me to play nice with the guy,” said Odelia. “I think he’s afraid that if we rock the boat we’ll lose advertisers. Or maybe he’ll come after us. Apparently Carl is a big name in town, and if we get in bad with him, it just might jeopardize the paper’s future.”
“This is just terrible,” said Scarlett. “Isn’t there anything we can do for Erica?”
Odelia shrugged.“I’m not sure. But if you have an idea, I’m all ears.”
Just then, her phone chimed and she picked it up from the table to glance at the number.“Chase,” she said, and picked up. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” She listened for a moment, and a frown soon creased her brow.
Scarlett watched the brow-creasing and sucked in her breath with a hissing sound.“Don’t do that,” she murmured. “You’ll get early-onset wrinkles if you keep doing that.”
But Odelia wasn’t listening. Instead, she said, “I’ll be there in ten.” She hung up, then announced to a captive audience, “The Hampton Heisters just broke into Katrina MacKney’s house.”
“No, they didn’t!” Gran cried, consternation making her sit upright with a jerk, causing Dooley to be relegated to the ground again.
“Who’s Katrina MacKney?” I asked.
“She’s a soap star,” Dooley explained. “One of Gran’s absolute favorites. She’s onGeneral Hospital. She plays Mrs. Emerald Brown. I think she’s the general who runs theGeneral Hospital hospital.”
“Do you guys want to come?” asked Odelia as she signaled the waitress for the check.
“Does a bear shit in the woods!” Gran cried.
“Does he?” Dooley asked, turning to me.
“I hope so,” I said. “Imagine if a bear shat on the carpet.”
So when Scarlett got up and deposited me on the ground, I heaved a sigh of disappointment. I quite enjoyed her strokes and had been purring up a storm.
But duty calls, I guess, and soon we were on our way, this time to lend aid and comfort to a soap star.
9
While in the car, we briefly touched on the topic of Harriet and Brutus suddenly having decided to up and leave our nice little home for yonder shores and adopting a dog’s life instead.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” said Odelia. “I’m sure they’ll be back in no time.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Last time I talked to Brutus he seemed to enjoy living with the Trappers.”
“How about Harriet?” asked Odelia. “What does she think?”
“Harriet is reserving her judgment. Until she’s spent some more time over there.”
“They’ll be back,” Odelia reiterated, seeming awfully sure of herself. “No cats of mine have ever left to find a better home elsewhere, and I don’t think it will happen this time.”