“We can’t involve the police,” said Tessa. “It will create the biggest fuss.”
“We have to, sweet pea,” he said. “She needs to be punished to the full extent of the law, and that’s something we can’t do ourselves.” He smiled as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Or did you think I was going to play judge, jury and executioner and sentence her all by myself?”
“No, of course not. I just…”
“This isn’t the Middle Ages, darling. We don’t lock people up in the Tower anymore. We let the police handle things—and the justice system. We’re citizens of this country, just like every other person.”
Tessa nodded.“Of course.” She then directed a look of relief at Odelia. “You got her. You finally got her.”
“Actually your cousin did,” said Odelia. “Your real cousin.”
Tessa threw herself into Nesbit’s arms and the big guy actually blushed.
“It’s over,” said Angela with a smile. “It’s really over.”
It was, and Odelia sighed with relief. The ordeal was finally over.
Chapter 31
I was just about to break into song again, on Harriet’s instigation, when voices drifted in our direction, interrupting my practice session.
“This place is infested with humans,” Brutus grumbled, quite harshly I thought. After all, humans have a right to walk around free and untethered.
“England is a lot smaller than America,” Harriet said. “Which is probably why there are humans everywhere.”
She was right. Even though Hampton Cove isn’t exactly the countryside, it’s much more peaceful than the parts of England I’d seen so far.
“There are quiet parts,” said Dooley now, much to my surprise. “In fact there are whole swaths of countryside where not a single person lives.”
“And how would you know?” scoffed Brutus.
“I’ve seen it on TV,” Dooley said. “Marge had a British kick for a while, and watched all things British. Crime shows, the news, and a show calledCountryfile where they show the countryside. It’s quite beautiful.”
“Quite,” Brutus mimicked with an eyeroll.
“No, it is. Very green, with pretty little villages dotting the rolling hills.”
“Sounds like you wouldn’t mind living there,” I said.
He shrugged.“I’ll live wherever my humans live. I’m easy that way.”
I was the same way. If my human decided to move to Antarctica, I’d probably move there, too. Though I’d really prefer if she didn’t. I don’t like the cold all that much. Or the heat, for that matter. I guess I’m fussy that way.
The male voice drifted closer, and so Harriet decided to press pause on our practice session for the time being. She didn’t want to spook people, she said.
I wondered if I should feel insulted but a man had come walking into the clearing, talking into his phone.
I immediately recognized him as the reporter who’d created such a fuss the night before, insisting he had every right to take pictures of Tessa and the baby. He put his phone away and lit up a cigarette. I had the impression he was waiting for someone.
“Isn’t that the reporter from last night?” asked Harriet.
“Yup, that’s him,” I said.
“I don’t like him,” said Dooley.
“I don’t like him either.”
“What is he doing here? I thought he was told to stay away?” said Brutus.
“Looks like he’s meeting someone.”
“This should be interesting,” said Harriet.
“I wonder who he’s here to meet,” said Dooley.
“Probably someone who works at the cottage,” I said.
“But why?”
“Oh, Dooley, isn’t it obvious?” said Harriet.
“No, it’s not.”
“He’s a reporter, dying to write a juicy story about Tessa and Dante. And if he can’t get near the cottage himself, either to interview them or to snap pictures, he needs other people to do it for him. And what better person than someone working there?”
“Um…” said Dooley, clearly not following.
“Someone who works for Tessa and Dante. Someone who can dish the dirt.”
“Can’t wait to see who the rat is,” grunted Brutus.
“Rats!” Dooley cried, jumping a foot in the air.
“He means the informant,” I said. “Not an actual rat.”
“An informant ratting out his employers,” Brutus grumbled. “Sounds like a rat to me.”
So we waited patiently for the rat who was ratting out Tessa to show up, so we could rat the rat out to Tessa ourselves.
Unfortunately, I was so much in the swing of my rehearsal thing, that inadvertently I’d started doing those runs again. “Lar lar lar lar lar lar laaaaaaaaaar!” I sang quietly. Or at least I thought I was being quiet. Apparently I was mistaken, for the reporter glanced over as if stung.
When he spotted us, he growled,“I don’t believe this—stupid cats!”
It would appear the man was not a cat person, for he picked up a dead branch from the ground and came charging in our direction—yelling some very unpleasant and rude words in the process!
Harriet zipped into the shrubbery, along with Dooley, but Brutus and I weren’t that smart. Instead, we scooted up a tree and soon were ensconced on the highest branch, where the reporter couldn’t reach us.
“And stay there!” he yelled, then walked away, shaking his head and muttering dark oaths under his breath.
It was only then that I realized the predicament we were in: we were thirty feet up from the ground, with no way to backtrack and get down again! And no friendly human in sight who could lend us a helping hand—or a pole!
“Um, Max,” said Brutus, anxiously looking down at the ground below. “We’re in trouble here, buddy.”
“You don’t say!” I said.
“Well, I did say. Just now.”
“I know!”
“So why did you say ‘You don’t say?’”
“It’s an expression!”
“Great. We’re stuck in a tree and you have to go all grammar Nazi on me.”
“Look, we’re fine,” I said as much for my own reassurance as his. “We’re perfectly fine.”
“Define fine.”
“Harriet and Dooley will go and fetch Odelia and she will figure this out.”
Brutus glanced down again. Harriet and Dooley were nowhere in sight.
“If Dooley lays one paw on my girl,” he growled, “I’ll rip his throat out.”
“This is not the time to entertain your petty jealousies, Brutus,” I said.
“It’s not petty when it’s real. They’re in those bushes down there, and they’re not coming out. I’ll bet he’s holding her, lending aid and comfort.”
“So what’s wrong with lending aid and comfort?”
“When I’m ripping his throat out he’ll know what’s wrong.”
“Please control those primitive urges of yours, Brutus. What are we? Animals?”
“It’s feline nature, Max! Cats thrown together tend to develop certain… feelings.”
“Nonsense.”
“Is it? What about Tom Hanks and his friend Wilson?”
“That was a volleyball.”
“It still proves my point.”
“Well, we’ve been thrown together in a dangerous situation,” I told him. “And we’re not developing certain feelings, are we?” Except extreme irritation.
“We’re not a male and a female, Max. We can be cool with each other.”
“Look, Dooley would never—”
“Oh, Dooley would most definitely jump at the chance to put his paws on Harriet. He’s been praying for an opportunity to be alone with her in a situation where she’s vulnerable and prone to errors of judgment! And all because of some dumb reporter who likes stalking innocent women and children!”
“Well, if you put it that way,” I murmured.
We sat there for a moment, contemplating ways and means of getting out of the tree without risking our necks, but I couldn’t come up with anything other than that our fate rested in the hands of Dooley and Harriet who still hadn’t—at the time of writing—left those darn bushes!
“If I survive this I’m going to kill Dooley,” said Brutus.