“Not a chance.”
“Well, no harm in asking.”
In the distance, we heard a soft beep! followed by a slightly louder creaking.
“If that’s what I think it is …” Chester said.
I looked toward the office. The door was wide open.
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Suddenly, Ditto squawked, “Quiet! Do you want to wake everybody up!”
Chester was out of his bungalow like a hot dog out of a bun with too much mustard.
Howie and I weren’t the only ones fast on Chester’s heels. In a matter of seconds, Bob and Linda and Georgette had joined us at the office door.
“Stupid bird,” we heard someone mutter just inside.
“You may as well give up!” Chester cried. “We’ve got the place surrounded.”
Felony’s face appeared at the door. “I shoulda known you’d turn copper,” she said to Chester.
In the background, we heard The Weasel crooning, “I’m a poor little weasel who has lost his way.”
Chester shook his head.
“It’s not what you think,” a husky voice said from within. Miss Demeanor sashayed into view. “Come on, Felony, let ‘em in. Cute Whiskers thinks he’s on to us, huh? Well, what does he know?”
“I know this,” said Chester as we filed into the office. I glanced nervously at the long table in the middle of the room. Even without a veterinarian in sight, the thought of that cold steel top was enough to get my hair follicles ready for action. “I know that you three are not on the up-and-up.”
“Hah!” Felony retorted. What she lacked in wit she made up in directness. “We told you right out we were cat burglars, didn’t we, Miss D.?”
Miss Demeanor nodded.
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“Well, we’re burglarizing, so there.”
“What about him?” Chester said, nodding toward The Weasel, whose eyes were lifted heavenward as his voice segued into another tune, something about “I am Weasel, hear me roar.”
“The Weasel?” Felony snorted with contempt.
Hearing his name, The Weasel stopped singing and turned to face us. “I’m innocent,” he proclaimed. “They made me do it, honest. They said I’d be helping Hamlet. That’s all I wanted to do. I didn’t care about the food.”
“The food?” Chester’s eyebrows arched.
“Okay, okay,” said Miss Demeanor. “We may as well come clean. We been trying to break into the food closet to get somethin’ decent to eat. You see somethin’ wrong with that?”
I looked around. Everyone was nodding approval.
“Is that all?” said Chester.
“They weren’t going to share!” The Weasel shouted.
Felony turned on him. “Snitch!” she said.
“Well, I can’t help it,” he went on. “You were going to frame me anyway. That’s why I was trying to dig my way out of here. I knew all along what they were up to and I knew they were going to try to get me to take the rap. Just because I’m a weasel.”
“Why, you poor thing,” said Georgette. “I understand what it’s like to be saddled with a reputation you don’t deserve. Just because I’m pretty and
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sweet and fairly ooze with charm, everyone thinks I’m stuck-up.”
Chester gave Georgette a long look, then turned back to The Weasel, who had resumed speaking.
“They made me squeeze in through a grate that leads to the basement. I’m good at squeezing through small places, you see. And then I punched in the code to the security system and let them in the back door.”
“Code to the security system?” Chester said slowly, looking—I say with some pleasure— confused.
“Six-one-one-one-five-two!” Ditto screaked.
Chester’s head dropped.
The Weasel continued his story, apparently relieved to be clearing his conscience of a terrible burden. “Once they found some good food,” he said, “they were going to sell it to everyone else.”
Chester lifted his eyes to glare at Felony and Miss Demeanor. “Why, you’re nothing but a couple of low-life—”
Miss Demeanor batted her eyelashes. “Oh, Cute Whiskers,” she said, “you really know how to sweet-talk a girl.”
“But what about the secret?” Bob asked.
“Or the hoax,” said Georgette softly.
“What’s Greenbriar’s story?” Chester wanted to know.
“What’s become of Hamlet?” Linda asked.
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“How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck would chuck wood?” Howie chimed in.
“Quiet, everyone!” Bob said sharply. “What’s that?”
We all listened. Somewhere someone was whimpering. We looked to the door at the end of a long, dark hall.
“It’s coming from behind that door,” Howie said, his eyes growing wide, “the one Rosebud talked about. The one that salted her feet.”
“I believe that was ‘sealed her fate,’” I said.
“Yeah, that one,” said Howie.
“The secret of Chateau Bow-Wow lies behind that door,” Chester said.
One after the other, we crept down the dark hallway. The whimpering grew louder. Someone was scratching at the door.
But when we threw the door open … there was no one there!
I looked around the darkened room and tried to figure out what it was supposed to be. There were chairs and a desk and shelves full of books, but there was also a bed. Howie ran to it and jumped up on his little hind legs. Sniffing at the quilt, he said, “Hamlet has been here.”
“And still is,” said a disembodied voice.
I don’t know about anybody else, but I jumped so high I had a chance to check the wattage in the chandelier.
The door creaked. It began to move. It was closing
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[Image: All dogs and cat trouble ran away]
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inch by inch, millimeter by merciless millimeter, as it shut us in, trapping us, sealing our fate. My life passed before my eyes. Well, not entirely. I got as far as the time I was a puppy and chewed up Pete’s favorite ball, when the door clicked shut.
There in the shadowy corner of the room sat Hamlet, looking scared out of his wits—which, given the state the rest of us were in, should have made him feel right at home.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just had to make sure you weren’t the warden.”
The very mention of the word sent Felony and Miss Demeanor into a frenzy. “Euphemistically speaking,” he added.
Once Felony and Miss Demeanor had gotten their heart rates back to normal, we all gathered around Hamlet and listened to his version of what had been going on at Chateau Bow-Wow.
He began by giving his head a gentlemanly nod to Georgette. “I’m sorry you had to be involved in this,” he told her. “You were always such a lady.”
“Oh, Hamlet,” Georgette sighed. “What happened? When I heard you were gone, I assumed Archie had come for you at last.”
Hamlet rolled his eyes and in so doing revealed two Great Dane—size tears balanced perilously on their rims. One spilled over and landed with a considerable splash on the floor.
“I’ve known for some time,” Hamlet began, “that
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Archie was never coming for me. I don’t know what’s become of him. But I did find out that I was being boarded here out of kindness to Archie’s cousin Flo—she and Dr. Greenbriar are friends, it seems—but only until there was no longer a place for me.
“When Harold and Howie and Chester arrived, all the bungalows were filled. I knew I had only a short time in which to escape. However, given the tight security and the fact that my arthritis prevented my digging my own way out, I had no choice but to—well, I hope you’ll forgive my saying so— to con others into doing the digging for me.”
“Rosebud,” said Chester.
“Yes. I found Rosebud’s collar and some bones one of the previous guests had left behind and I devised my plan. I would terrify everyone into believing their lives were in danger and that they must work together to escape. Time was crucial, you understand. I only had until the next guest arrived.”