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“Oh, I’m sure that’s what he thinks. But very often in a case of blackmail or extortion, the target knows more than they realize.” He tapped his desk. “Schedule another interview with your fallen fitness star. Only this time make it a casual affair. Maybe take him out for dinner and a chat. Loosen him up a little. Get him to talk to you. Open up.”

“I can’t. He doesn’t want to be seen. Even when he went into Dad’s office this morning he put on a wig and some of my mom’s clothes and kept his head down.”

“So maybe organize a nice barbecue and invite him as your star guest. Just make the atmosphere nice and mellow. Family vibe. And pour him a couple of glasses of wine—”

“He’s AA.”

Dan sighed.“Fine, so don’t liquor him up. Fill him with delicious food instead. People always talk more on a full stomach. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll tell you something that will lead you to the perpetrators of this most heinous of crimes.” He winked. “And then of course I expect you to write a nice fat juicy front-page article when this is all over.”

Chapter 29

“Come on, Max,” said Harriet. “Hurry up!”

I hurried as much as I could, but for a big-boned cat like me physical exertion is not always a good idea. I need to take it easy. Take plenty of naps. Make sure I take enough nourishment. And these sprints across town were frankly biting into my nap time big time.

“I should be home right now,” I panted. “I should be sleeping on my couch.”

“What you should have done,” said Harriet censoriously, “is remembered our appointment with Shanille. How could you forget, Max!”

“You forgot too,” I reminded her.

“I’m not the one this wedding will affect. It’s Dooley, and the consequences to him.”

I should probably turn back the clock a little here. If you remember, Dooley was worried that Gran and Wilbur Vickery were about to tie the knot, which would mean that Dooley would have to go and live with Wilbur, and share the man’s home with Kingman, his new brother from another mother.

But then we heard from the horse’s mouth—in this case Gran herself—that her date had been a bad one—just like that date in Indiana Jones’s first movie. And so the danger seemed to have been averted. Phew!

But then Odelia dropped us in town so we could start our search for Brutus, and who did we see? Gran and Scarlett, stalking across the street in the direction of Wilbur Vickery’s General Store. And moments later Gran and Wilbur were engaged in a very lively discussion, which ended in Gran and Wilbur… hugging it out!

Dooley freaked out, and so did I, and Harriet merely said,“See? I told you this would happen,” which of course she hadn’t, but then Harriet just likes to say ‘I told you so’ at every possible occasion because she’s just that kind of cat.

And all of a sudden I remembered the date Shanille had set with us to start preparing for the wedding, and we’d totally blown her off!

Now Shanille is not the kind of cat you blow off. For one thing, as cat choir’s conductor she has the power to kick cats out of her choir, which she has done on more than one occasion, one of those occasions being me, kicked out for singing out of tune!

So that’s why you now find us hurrying along in the direction of St. John’s Church, where Shanille likes to hang out when she’s not in the park for cat choir rehearsals.

We slammed into the church and glanced around the cavernous and half-dark space, hoping to find Shanille still there, patiently waiting for the three of us—well, the four of us, but it was obvious Brutus wouldn’t be keeping his appointment, since he’d disappeared with his pet turtle.

“Shanille?” I said cautiously, my voice echoing through the large space. “Shanille, are you here?”

We trod along the nave to the front of the church, took a left at the altar to where the baptismal font is located, and beyond that to the inner sanctum, where Father Reilly has his office, and where he likes to mentally prepare before Mass, or take the occasional sip of altar wine to screw up his courage before addressing his flock.

“You’ve really gone and done it this time, Max,” Harriet hissed.” You pissed off Shanille, and probably got us all kicked out of cat choir. Thank you very much. And just when things were going so well with my solos!”

“We’ve got a great excuse,” I reminded her. “Trying to save a man who’s about to die is probably the best excuse for missing an appointment, and I’m sure Shanille will agree.”

“What would I agree with, Max?” asked a cold voice speaking to my rear. I whirled around, and found myself face to face with cat choir’s conductor.

“Oh, hi, Shanille,” I said, plastering a pleasant smile onto my face, even though I wasn’t really feeling it. “Um, I’m sorry we’re late, but—”

“Late is when you arrive five minutes past the agreed-upon time, Max,” she said, still proceeding frostily. “You’re exactly four hours late. That simply tells me you don’t care about my time. It’s a kick in the teeth—a knock on the head—a slap in the face!”

“But—”

“I’m disappointed in you, Max. Very disappointed!”