“Weird, how?”
“Well, she keeps forgetting who we are.”
“She’s been cloned,” Dooley explained.
“I know. I was the one who told you, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right,” said Dooley, looking puzzled.
“Do you think the cloning caused her brain to get scrambled?” asked Brutus.
“Prunella’s brains are scrambled? Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Harriet. “Absolutely scrambled.”
“Well… Opal told me the new Prunella is just like the old Prunella, so…”
“So you think she was always like this?” asked Max. “Scrambled, I mean?”
“I guess so. Opal would have noticed if this Prunella was substantially different from the original one.”
“Weird, though, isn’t it?” said Harriet, giving her a strange look. “This cloning business?”
“Yeah, Prunella’s original self is kept on ice in some lab somewhere,” said Brutus. “And the new Prunella walks around with scrambled brains. Very odd, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess it is a little weird,” said Odelia. “But if you consider that only the genetic material of the original, cloned pet is used, and that the puppy or kitten develops like all puppies or kittens develop: inside a host, it’s a little less weird. The so-called new Prunella was born like any other cat, and even though genetically she is a copy of the original Prunella, that doesn’t mean she will look exactly the same down to the smallest detail.”
“She won’t?” asked Dooley. “You mean they didn’t put her through a photocopier?”
“Oh, no of course not,” said Odelia. “You can’t copy a living being. What they do is take the nucleus of a cell of the pet they want to clone, and insert it into an egg cell. They give it an electric jolt and let the host carry it to term. And hope the process is successful.”
“Oh, so that’s how it works,” said Dooley. “Nucleus, jolt, egg…” He looked confused.
“It’s a complicated medical procedure,” she said. “Say, you guys are acting a little weird. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Oh, yes,” said Max, grim-faced. “We’re all perfectly fine. Fine, fine, fine.”
“As fine as can be expected,” said Harriet. “Under the circumstances.”
“Yes, the circumstances are terrible,” Odelia agreed. “What with Opal being attacked today. I just hope we’ll be able to catch whoever is behind this before it’s too late.”
“Well, if anything happens to her, they can always have her cloned,” said Harriet. “That way she can go on with her show indefinitely and no one will be any the wiser.”
Strange. They were acting so strange. But then Gran came rushing in, panting slightly, and asked, “Have you seen Hank? I seem to have misplaced the boy.”
“Have you looked in the main house? Maybe he arrived late and decided to have a bite to eat in the kitchen.”
Gran tapped the doorframe and gave her a beaming smile. “Thanks, hon.”
And she was off again.
“Don’t go to bed too late, Gran!” she hollered after her. “We’re leaving early tomorrow morning, remember!”
But Gran was already slamming the door.
“Well, sleep tight, you guys,” she said as she placed her notebook on the nightstand and switched off the bedside lamp.
“Sleep well, Odelia,” her four cats said in chorus.
Then she remembered something. “Oh, tomorrow morning we’re all going into town. Opal has invited us to join her at her beauty salon and spa.”
“Doesn’t she have a show to tape?” asked Max.
“No, it’s Saturday. No show on Saturday.”
“Where is this salon and spa?” asked Harriet.
“Um… Hollywood Boulevard,” said Odelia.
There was a momentary silence, then Max said, “We’d love to come.”
“Great. I thought you’d like it. They have a pet salon, too, so we’ll treat you to a nice massage and a pampering session.”
“Whoopee,” said Harriet without much enthusiasm.
Yep, they clearly weren’t themselves. Then again, cats being cats, that’s just the way they were sometimes. They’d be right as rain tomorrow, she was sure. And then she dozed off. Outside, Gran had resumed her cries of ‘Hank!’ but by then she was fast asleep.
Chapter 22
The next morning Odelia was the first one up. She decided to go for a walk in the grounds, and get some of that fresh air these Hollywood Hills were so famous for.
She ventured out into the cool and crisp morning air and took in a lungful of the stuff, which made her feel so giddy she broke into a spontaneous run and didn’t stop until she’d reached a little brook and crossed it, finally to reach destination’s end: the small waterfall she’d seen the first night.
It was a beautiful spot, with a gorgeous view, the sun rising over the hills, and spreading its gorgeous rays across a sleeping world. She took a seat on a small wooden bench and took in the breathtaking scene. Behind her, the brook gurgled, next to her the waterfall burbled, and inside, her stomach grumbled.
All this running had given her an appetite, and she couldn’t wait to sit down for breakfast.
One thing was for sure: Opal was the perfect hostess, and not just on her famous show, but in her own home as well. The first-class meals they’d been served were so delicious Odelia was already dreading the moment they’d return home and she’d have to cook again. She’d never be able to compete with Helga, who clearly was a master chef when it came to the work she did in the kitchen, aided by Harlan’s liquor stash or not.
She stretched and yawned, and a voice behind her startled her out of her reverie.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? This is certainly my favorite spot.”
She looked up to find she’d been joined by a woman who looked vaguely familiar. And then she recognized her. “You’re Marilyn Coyn,” she said. “Opal’s best friend.”
“That’s me,” said Marilyn. “And you must be Odelia Poole. The detective.”
“Reporter, actually,” said Odelia. “I’m just an amateur when it comes to detecting.”
Marilyn, who was a statuesque woman with refined features, took a seat next to her on the bench. “That’s not what I heard. I heard you’re a damn fine detective.”
“I do my best,” said Odelia modestly.
“Opal told me what happened yesterday. That must have been a horrible scene.”
“It was. And a miracle she survived.”
“Opal seems to be on the receiving end of a lot of miracles these days,” said Marilyn. “First those faulty brakes, then the poisoned coffee, and now this.”
“She told you about all of those incidents?”
“Oh, yes, she did. In fact it was me who told her to hire you.”
“But… we’ve never met, have we?”
“No, we haven’t.”
“So how do you know so much about me?”
“I read a story about how you caught Chickie Hay’s killer, and that impressed me a great deal.”
Of course. The Chickie Hay case had garnered a lot of publicity.
“I loved Chickie,” said Marilyn. “She was one of my favorite singers and a dear friend.”
“You knew her?”
“Sure. She was a guest on my show a couple of times, and we became fast friends. She was a bright young woman, and didn’t deserve to die.”
She remembered now. Marilyn had her own show, and even though it wasn’t as popular or famous as Opal’s, it still attracted a fairly large viewership.
“Have you gotten any closer to finding out the truth?” asked Marilyn.
“No, not yet, I’m afraid,” she was ashamed to admit. “We’ve gone through a list of suspects but so far haven’t hit on the right one yet.”
“You have to figure out what’s going on, Odelia. I can’t lose another dear friend so soon after I lost Chickie. I wouldn’t be able to cope with the loss.”
She nodded. “I’ll find out who’s doing this, Marilyn. You have my word on that.”
“I know you will,” said Marilyn, placing a hand on hers and giving it a tight squeeze. “That’s why I recommended you.” She got up. “Shall we return to the house? We have an appointment with a beauty parlor, remember?”