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“Yeah, I guess they will,” he said. He’d been giving a lot of thought to Harriet, and Max and Dooley, and all of his other friends out there, and his humans, too, of course, secretly hoping they were looking for him, and maybe would be able to find him, too. “Look, we’re getting out of here one way or another,” he said, as much to convince himself as to reassure his little friend, “so there’s really no sense in panicking.”

“And my friends?” she said. “Do you think we’ll be able to take them with us?”

“Oh, sure,” he said. “As soon as we escape, we’ll tell people what’s going on here, and they’ll come and save your friends.”

Though he wondered what exactly was going on there. Apparently Johnny and Jerry, two career criminals, had set up a new way of getting rich quick. This time by breeding turtles. How they hoped to make money was a mystery to him, though. The only way he thought you could monetize turtles was to turn them into… turtle soup.

But he didn’t have the heart to tell Pinkie about that. The little turtle would probably be horrified. And rightly so. If someone told him they were breeding cats to turn them into cat soup, he’d be horrified, too.

So he put his head down on his front paws and closed his eyes, hoping to catch some sleep, and try not to worry.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Odelia had talked to Randy’s manager, his housekeeper, his pool boy, his cleaner, his gardener, his chef, his accountant, and his sister, and the picture was getting a little clearer: Randy Hancock was broke. He was also an addict. And had become an addict shortly after his double hip operation, first being addicted to the pain killers the doctors had prescribed, and then other, more recreational drugs. Also: Randy, in spite of being known all over the world as a fitness icon and sports legend, hadn’t given a single class in years, nor had he shot a video. All of the stuff online dated back at least fifteen years,and so now she wondered how the man had managed to stay afloat financially.

She drove back to the office, planning to think things through, before confronting Randy with the conclusions of her interviews, and also to drop off her cats in town, so they could start looking for Brutus.

They’d become increasingly anxious as the day wore on, and she could no longer justify them tagging along with her on what was starting to feel like a wild-goose chase.

The people she’d talked to had been highly surprised by the death threat story, and couldn’t imagine who’d want to hurt Randy.

She walked into the Gazette, and knocked on the doorjamb of her editor’s office.

Dan looked up from reading his newspaper, his beard waggling as he laughed at a joke he himself had written. His eyes were lively and sparkling with the light of intelligence as usual, and she hoped he’d be able to point her in the right direction. Often when she was stuck with a story, a conversation with Dan got her right back on track.

“Odelia! I was just wondering who wrote this outstanding piece and then discovered it was me! I keep surprising myself with how funny I am.” When he saw the frown on her face, he put down the paper, let his reading glasses dangle from his neck and folded his hands on his desk. “Tell me what’s wrong. I can see you’re struggling with something.”

“I told you I’m looking into this mysterious poisoning case, remember?”

“Randy Hancock. The fitness tycoon.”

“Only turns out he’s more of a fitness pauper,” she said. And as she took a seat in front of the editor’s desk she proceeded to give him a brief account of that morning’s interviews.

“So the picture that emerges is of a man who had it all, then squandered it on flings with pool boys and recreational drugs,” said Dan, sniffing loudly as if to draw extra oxygen into his brain. “So whoever is extorting him for ten million either doesn’t know him very well, or knows him better than his nearest and dearest and seems to believe that Randy, contrary to what his manager or accountant think, isn’t broke but loaded.”

“So either it’s someone who knows him even better than his manager, or someone who only knows the popular picture of Randy as the multi-millionaire fitness star.”

“Has Chase heard back from his NYPD source yet?”

“No, he hasn’t. I hope they’ll be able to trace the source of that video.”

“And the nature of that toxin.”

“That, too.” Her dad had sent her a cryptic text saying he’d learned a great deal from Randy, but nothing that would interest her. “So how do you think I should proceed?” she asked now. Usually when she was absolutely stuck Dan had some last-minute idea up his sleeve, and she sincerely hoped he did so now.

“I think the answer lies with the man himself,” said Dan slowly. “I think he probably knows more than he thinks he knows.”

“I talked to Randy. He says he has no idea who could be doing this to him.”