Odelia looked closely. The shaky footage showed Tessa, standing in front of a gray stone wall. Suddenly, she looked up, then immediately jumped to the left. Moments later, a large solid object dropped down and the camera panned up. On the wall right over Tessa’s head, a dark figure could fleetingly be seen. One second he was there, the next he was gone.
“Oh, my God,” said Marge.
“Right?” said Angela.
“Did Tessa show this to Dante?”
“She wanted to, but I told her not to. If he’s in cahoots with this stone-pusher, he won’t be happy that his little scheme was thwarted, not to mention that his associate was caught on film. Better to wait and see what he’s up to next. If he’s behind this whole thing, we want to catch himred-handed.”
“What about the girl?”
“Tessa told her not to mention the incident to anyone.”
“Oh, dear,” said Marge. “This is terrible, Angela. Tessa must be terrified.”
“Honey, why do you think I want to get over there lickety-split? My little girl is all alone, not a single ally in her corner. Well, except for her cousin.”
“Her cousin?” asked Odelia.
“Yeah, her real cousin. Nesbit spent his gap year in London, fell in love and married the girl of his dreams a couple of years ago. He’s a cop, and Tessa managed to get him assigned to her security detail. We’re hoping he’ll keep her safe until we arrive.”
What a story, Odelia thought. Poor Tessa. And poor Angela. Now she understood why they were so keen for reinforcements to arrive.
Angela glanced over to the bed.“So those are your famous cats, huh?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call us famous,” said Max, though he was already swelling with pride.
“You write about them all the time,” Angela explained, “so I almost feel like I know them.”
“They’re quite the sleuthhounds,” said Gran. “Or should I say sleuthcats?”
Angela didn’t laugh. Instead, she gave them all a grave look.
“My daughter is in mortal danger,” she said. “Please promise me you’ll do whatever you can to catch this maniac.”
Odelia placed her hand on the woman’s arm and noticed a distinct tremor. She felt for Angela. As a mother it was terrible to have to watch from thousands of miles away what happened to your daughter in a different land—a different world. “I promise I’ll do my absolute level best,” she said.
“Thank you,” said Angela with a grateful smile. “Now let’s go. The jet is fueled and ready to whisk us away to the land of fish and chips.”
Max pricked up his ears.“Fish?”
Odelia smiled. She’d been worried about her cats going on such a long trip, but somehow she had a feeling everything was going to be just fine.
Chapter 5
I hadn’t known what to expect when Odelia told us we were flying to a different continent by airplane. I mean, I’ve seen plenty of planes on TV, and they always seem very enjoyable. You sit together in a cozy space with a slew of pleasant fellow travelers, are served delicious food by smiling flight attendants, and if you’re lucky you get to fall in love with Meg Ryan. If you’re unlucky you end up sitting next to a psychopath who threatens to kill your dad if you don’t do exactly what he says, but Gran had assured us this was rare, and only happens in Hollywood movies featuring Rachel McAdams.
I, for one, had always been curious about flying, even if the prospect of spending long hours in what basically amounts to a steel tube gave me pause. Then again, I’d always known that day would never come, as Odelia is basically a homebody, and so are Gran, Marge and the rest of the fam.
They like Hampton Cove, where they’re born and raised, and don’t venture too far from the homestead and definitely not to other continents. So now that the day had actually come, I greeted it with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. Anticipation at the chance of being seated next to Meg Ryan’s cat, trepidation at the prospect of spending the flight in the company of Passenger 57 with Wesley Snipes nowhere in sight, if you catch my drift.
As we were driven to the airport by a very kind and buff individual in a Range Rover, Odelia and Chase and Gran made pleasant conversation throughout. They peppered Angela with questions, ranging from her daughter’s diet and workout plan to the place where Tessa and Dante had settled down. Apparently this was some sort of cottage on the outskirts of London, close to a castle. Newtmore Cottage, if I understood correctly.
It struck me as odd. I mean to say, who in their right mind, when in the possession of unlimited funds and a vast real estate portfolio, would want to spend the best years of his or her married life in a dank cottage overrun with newts? I guess that’s the English for you. They are different from the rest of us.
Too bad Angela was there, or I would have bombarded Odelia with questions myself. As it was, we had a strict rule that when in the company of strangers, Odelia didn’t talk to us, and neither did Gran or Marge. You can probably see why. Most people think it strange when other humans start meowing. It often ends in tears and a one-way trip to the looney bin, strapped in a straitjacket. For those of you not in the know, a straitjacket is a special garment wornby those who’ve lost their marbles. Meaning they’re nuts.
The trip to the airport was uneventful, and when we arrived the car was directed to a parking space reserved only for those deserving special treatment. And so, all of a sudden, we’d been transformed into VIPs!
“I think I’m going to like this,” said Dooley.
“I think so, too,” I said as a muscular man in a snazzy suit and sunglasses gestured to a plane that stood waiting on the tarmac. It was small, it was sleek, and it looked absolutely fabulous.
Odelia and the others were chatting with some sort of official-looking individual, handing him their passports and documents. He cast a quick glance over to us, as we sat on the tarmac in our respective pet carriers, and I hoped he wouldn’t tell Odelia we couldn’t come along. Gran had been surfing the internet and had discovered England, on account of the fact that it is an island, has some pretty strict rules about pets being brought into the country, and that we needed to have all of our shots and stuff. The mere mention of the word shots was enough to scare the living daylights out of me, but as it turned out we did have the shots we needed to have, and anyway, Angela had made ‘arrangements’ to make sure we would be allowed into the country.
“Remember that episode with Johnny Depp and his dogs?” asked Harriet now as we sat waiting patiently.
“What episode?” I asked, keeping a keen eye on the person who seemed to have the power to decide our fate.
“Johnny Depp tried to bring his dogs into Australia and when they found out, the politician in charge said he’d murder the dogs if Johnny didn’t remove them immediately. They’re pretty tough on pets in Australia.”
“Oh, my God,” said Dooley. “That’s terrible!”
“So what did Johnny do?” asked Brutus.
“He filmed a video apologizing to the people of Australia for bringing his dogs into the country and then immediately flew them back to the States.”
“I hope the Queen doesn’t ask for us to be murdered,” said Dooley.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Angela said everything has been arranged.”
“Angela is not the Queen, Max,” said Harriet. “She doesn’t get to decide who lives and who dies.”
“Must be a tough job,” said Brutus. When Harriet shot him a critical look, he added defensively, “Just saying. Deciding who lives or dies? Tough.”
“Does she really get to decide if we live or die?” asked Dooley.
“I think so,” said Harriet. “England is a monarchy, so the Queen has a lot of pull.”
“I’ll bet she would never order her corgis to die, though,” said Dooley. “She loves those corgis. I saw it on TV.”
“I think we need to make friends with the corgis,” I said. “That’s the only way to make sure we don’t get murdered by the Queen. If we make friends with the Queen’s favorite pooches, and get them to vouch for us, we’re in the clear.”