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Car drivers, as a rule, pay little to no attention to certain other occupants of the road, such as there are: children, old ladies, cyclists, pets… In fact anyone who isn’t driving a car. So when Dooley started crossing the road, instead of halting their progress they simply kept on driving. And as I watched, a large truck came rumbling down the road.

“Dooley!” I screamed as the truck made no attempt to stop.

Dooley was holding up one paw, like a traffic cop. Unfortunately he’s so small and that truck was so big he simply didn’t stand a chance.

I closed my eyes as the truck simply drove right over my bestest friend in all the world!

“You beast!” suddenly Dooley’s voice rang out, and when I opened my eyes again, I saw that he was shaking his fist at the truck who was now rumbling around the bend and soon disappeared out of sight. “You inconsiderate beast!” Dooley was saying.

“Dooley! I snapped. “Come back here now!”

Dooley came back here, and said,“He didn’t stop, Max. Did you see that? He didn’t stop!”

“Of course he didn’t stop. He probably didn’t even see you!”

“But how could he not see me? I was right there, motioning for him to stop!”

“What were you thinking!” I practically screamed. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”

And then I got it. Last night. The suicide. I’d once heard that suicides can be contagious. That when a celebrity dies, plenty of his or her fans jump off that same cliff, like lemmings—if lemmings jump off cliffs. I could be thinking of some other species. “Dooley, that man last night. He was very unhappy. That’s why he did what he did. You don’t have to do what he did.”

He was staring at me, confusion written all over his features.“What are you talking about, Max?”

“That banker from last night. Dino Wimmer. Please don’t jump off the same cliff, Dooley. Just because he did what he did, you don’t have to, see? You’re not him. You’re not a lemming!”

“I know I’m not a lemming, Max,” he said, giving me a curious look. “I’m a cat. And I was just trying to help that little old lady cross the road.”

Now it was my turn to stare at him in confusion.“Help her cross the road? But why?”

“Because I haven’t done my good deed of the day yet,” he explained. “Gran said that if I want to be a good cub scout I should do one good deed a day, like helping little old ladies cross the road. And when I saw this little old lady—where did she go?”

We both looked around, and indeed the little old lady was gone. And then I saw her: she’d safely reached the other shore and was now shuffling on to wherever she was heading.

“Please don’t ever do that again, Dooley,” I said. I held up my paw. “See this?”

“See what?”

“I’m shaking all over!”

“Why are you shaking, Max?” Then his eyes widened. “Oh, no. Is that what you’ve been trying to tell me? That you’re dying, just like Dino Wimmer? Is it cancer, Max?”

“No, I’m not dying, Dooley, but if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I just might. Of heart failure!”

“But I have to do a good deed, Max,” he said as we walked on. “It’s important.”

“But why? I don’t get it.”

“Gran and I watched this documentary last night. It was all about the Cub Scouts of America, and how they do good deeds all the time.”

“I think it’s Boy Scouts of America, Dooley. Not Cub Scouts.”

“Pretty sure it’s Cub Scouts. And I told Gran how nice it is that these kids—they call themselves cubs on account of the fact that they’re cute and cuddly, just like real cubs—”

“Pretty sure that’s not the reason they’re called cubs.”

“Pretty sure it is. So they do these things for their fellow man, see? And Gran said why don’t you follow their lead? You’re a real cub, not a fake one like these kids. So that’s when she made me take a pledge.”

“Gran made you take a pledge,” I said, not concealing my surprise.

“Sure. And you can, too. It’s very simple. You just promise to be a good cub from now on, and be kind to people and pets alike, and you’re on your way to making this world a better place. And isn’t that what we all want, Max? To make the world a better place?”

“Yes, Dooley,” I said, touched by his words of sincerity. “You’re absolutely right.”

“Look, there’s another old lady,” he said, pointing in the direction of Ida Baumgartner, one of Odelia’s dad’s most loyal patients. “Let’s help her cross the road.”

“Let’s not,” I said. “Instead, let’s help Odelia solve some case—next time she has a case to solve, that is.”

“You mean like finding out who’s sending pictures of sausages to her friend Rose’s phone?”

“Exactly,” I said with a smile.

Chapter 8

Odelia walked into her uncle’s office and found the big man seated behind his desk and scratching his nose, looking a little discombobulated. He glanced up when his niece entered and said, “I thought you’d be dropping by.”

“Have you got more news about Dino Wimmer’s death?”

“I have, but you’re not going to like it.”

“So it was murder,” she said as she took a seat.

“No, it wasn’t. He’d swallowed down those pills and that’s what killed him.”

“Oh,” she said, and frowned at her uncle.