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“He fell from the roof,” said Tex, a quiet smile playing about his lips. Clearly he wasn’t exactly bowled over with grief over Jason’s recent mishap.

“The roof?” asked Odelia. “What was he doing up there?”

“He was trying to get a feel for the house,” said Marge.

“He was trying to get in touch with the cosmos,” Gran corrected her. “To direct its subtle energies toward the perfect design that would uplift and enlighten. Or at least that’s what he told me when I found him lying there.”

“But how did he fall?”

Three shrugs greeted that question.

“A gust of wind,” suddenly Harriet piped up. She and Brutus came walking up from the direction of the rose bushes, where they like to hang out of an afternoon. “We saw the whole thing, didn’t we, poopsie?”

“We sure did,” Brutus confirmed. “He was crawling naked across the roof, until he’d positioned himself right on top, and tried to sit cross-legged. When that didn’t work, he put one leg on one side, and the other on the other side, and when that proved too painful, he got up to scratch himself behind the ear.”

“And that’s when a sudden gust of wind took him by surprise, and he fell off,” Harriet completed the story. She grinned. “He was screaming a lot of unspiritual things as he came down. I don’t think the cosmos or its subtle energies would have liked it.”

“Oh, just say it,” said Gran, throwing up her hands. “I know you’re all thinking it.”

“What?” asked Odelia.

“That I made a mess of things again! I know it, you know it, and this sad excuse for a human being definitely knows it.”

“I’ll be back!” Jason Knauff yelled as he was carted off. “I’ll be back and together we’ll turn this house into the most harmonious place in Hampton Cove!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Gran.

“Will he be all right?” asked Marge solicitously.

“He broke his leg, but otherwise he seems fine,” said one of the paramedics.

“Thank God for that,” said Chase.

The commotion over, I turned to my human.“Odelia, can we have a quick chat? There’s something we need to discuss.”

“Oh, right,” said Harriet. “Fifi and Rufus want dog choir to join cat choir to join St. Theresa Choir,” she said. “So if you could talk to Father Reilly and set that up for us?”

“Um…” said Odelia, taken aback by this development. “Dog choir wants to…”

“Sing at the concert. And if they’re not allowed to join they’re going on a hunger strike. So we probably should humor them. Unless you want to explain to your neighbors how they suddenly ended up with two dead dogs on their hands.”

“Oh, dear,” said Marge, shaking her head.

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about, Max?” asked Odelia as she crouched down next to me.

I slowly shook my head.

She eyed me keenly as she tickled me behind my ears.

“Don’t tell me… you know who killed Neda?”

This time I slowly nodded, and watched as a smile spread across my human’s face.

And have you ever seen a more enchanting thing?

28

We were in Neda’s office, located in downtown Hampton Cove. It was where the choir conductor had conducted her business affairs, and where Cher Shorn spent her days.

It was a modest office, as offices go, but airy and bright, just like Neda’s house, and I could imagine that Cher had spent many a happy day there, deciding which charity to contribute some of her employer’s extensive funds to, and what artist to devote an exhibition to at one of the cultural centers she’d granted her patronage.

There was an outer office, where visitors could sit and wait for their audience with Neda, and beyond that two rooms and consequently also two desks: one for Neda, where she hadn’t spent a lot of time, and one for Cher, her loyal collaborator for many years.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was already losing some of its pep. We were ensconced in the smallest office, which was Cher’s: Odelia, Chase, and a small cat contingent. Harriet and Brutus had insisted they be present, and Odelia had allowed them, but only if they kept quiet as a mouse. Harriet found that a little insulting: you don’t tell a cat to be quiet as a mouse. But there were bigger fish to fry than Harriet’s touchiness, and the atmosphere in the small space was loaded with expectation.

“Do you think they’ll show up?” asked Chase, not for the first time.

“I don’t know,” said Odelia. “Max says they will.”

Frankly I had no idea either. All you can do is set the bait, and then hope the fish will take it. But as every fisher knows, sometimes the fish simply refuse to bite. Not because of quality issues with the bait, but simply because life is like that: unpredictable.

Suddenly there was a noise in the outer office, and we all ducked down a little further behind Cher’s desk, making sure we wouldn’t be seen or heard by this intruder.