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The dogs must have spotted us, for they suddenly halted their howling and came trotting over.

“Hey, you guys,” said Fifi. “So what do you think?”

“Think of what?” I asked.

“Our performance. Is it as good as or even better than yours?”

“Better than what?”

“Cat choir! Is dog choir as good as cat choir, better than cat choir, or worse. It’s a multiple-choice question,” she added when we just stared at her.

“Do you mean to say you’re starting a… dog choir?” asked Harriet with an incredulous laugh.

“That’s right. We just figured if cats can do it, so can dogs. Maybe even better.”

“I like it,” said Rufus. “I like the singing. Though I think we’re going to need a conductor. It doesn’t feel right without a conductor.”

“I like it, too,” said Little Randy. “I’m not a natural-born singer, and I don’t think I have an ounce of talent, but I really had fun tonight, guys. So thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Lil Ran,” said Rufus.

“Lil Ran?” I said, aghast.

“The fellas decided Little Randy was a real mouthful so they’ve baptized me Lil Ran.”

“It was my idea,” said Fifi. “It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think? And once we take dog choir to the next level, you need a name for when we talk to the press.”

“Talk to the press!” I said. “Dogs don’t talk to anyone, and certainly not the press!”

“But… you talk to the press, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“So what do you call it when you talk to Odelia?”

“She’s got you there, Max,” said Brutus with a grin.

“Look, for me this is just a way to while away the time,” said Lil Ran. “And to take my mind off things.”

“Lil Ran is feeling blue,” said Rufus. “On account of the fact that his human is dying.”

“I’m sorry, Lil Ran,” said Dooley. “If my human was dying I’d feel bad, too. And even when she’s not dying,” he added, “but getting married instead.” He sighed deeply. “Today is a sad, sad day.”

“Maybe sing some more, Dooley,” said Fifi with a smile. “It will cheer you right up—you’ll see.” And to show us what she meant, she raised her face to the moon and started howling—and very loudly, too!

Moments later a shoe came flying in her direction and knocked her off her perch. When she’d recovered enough to join us again, she stared at the shoe, then at us, and said, “What just happened?”

“Welcome to cat choir,” I said.

Chapter 18

In spite of the fact that Wilbur Vickery wasn’t anyone’s dream date—most certainly not Vesta’s—she had been fully prepared to give the man the benefit of the doubt.

They’d gone to see a movie, one Wilbur had picked. It had been one of those violent movies, with plenty of action and shooting and a body count that went through the roof. And throughout the movie Wilbur had been laughing his ass off, clearly having a ball.

Vesta, meanwhile, had been so bored she’d surfed on her phone the entire time, chatting with Scarlett, giving her a live report of the evening as it progressed.

‘Nine fifteen—Wilbur almost choked in his extra-large popcorn.’

‘Nine thirty—Wilbur almost choked in his extra-large Coke.’

‘Nine forty—Wilbur almost choked laughing when one of the bad guys got smushed.’

And she’d just started to figure the evening was a bust when suddenly Wilbur had placed an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. It was at a moment in the movie when the hero was locked up in a bank vault with a pretty girl and noxious gas was being pumped in by the bad guys and instead of trying to get himself and the girl out of trouble he started kissing the girl instead. Go figure. That’s what you get when Hollywood movies are all made by men for men: they make absolutely no sense!

And so when the hero started feeling up the scantily-clad leading lady, who was thirty years his junior, Wilbur started leaning in and had actually tried to kiss her!

She responded by grabbing his left nipple and giving it a tight squeeze.

Wilbur had squealed like a pig and for the rest of the movie had kept his hands—and his lizard tongue—to himself.

‘Ten twenty—Wilbur has stopped talking to me.’

“So where do you wanna go?” Vesta asked as they walked out of the movie theater, three hundred dead bad guys, one molested leading lady, and a smirking hero later.

By this point Wilbur’s face was a thundercloud, and he grunted, “Dunno.”

“Maybe we could go for a walk? There’s a full moon out tonight. And then we can go patrolling, like we said.”

“Hrmph,” Wilbur said, which Vesta took as a yes. So she took hold of the shopkeeper’s arm and together they walked through downtown Hampton Cove, then proceeded in the direction of the waterfront.

“This is nice,” said Vesta as they reached the boardwalk and joined the many couples leisurely strolling along and having a good time.