4c392a139708e5efb30cc267dbb0c768

“The cats might have. I just let them out of the car and let them wander about.”

“You’re such a terrible liar, Poole.”

“I’m not lying! I sat there, in my car, thinking about the case, and I figured since I was driving anyway, I might as well bring the cats along. For company. And because they like it.”

“And how would you know what your cats like and don’t like? Do you speak cat?”

It was such a direct question she almost replied in the affirmative. But then her sense of self-preservation kicked in and she laughed lightly.“Speak cat? Very funny, Chase.”

He gave her that cop look again, as if trying to figure out if she was telling the truth. She projected as innocent and careless a look as she could manage, which was a little hard as he was a very good cop, and he could look in a very piercing way when he wanted to. Finally, he relaxed.“So what do you think? Any bright ideas?”

“I think we should talk to some more people tomorrow.”

“Very clever, Poole. Now why didn’t I think of that?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.“And while I was out there I met a source who gave me a description of the two men who burgled that farm. One was short with a strawberry nose and a purple spot on his upper lip, the other tall with a small mustache. That ring a bell, Kingsley?”

The moment she’d said it, she regretted it.

“Source? What source?”

“You know I can’t disclose my sources, Chase.”

He gave her a withering look.“I disclose mine, so I don’t see why you shouldn’t disclose yours.”

“I’m a reporter. My sources trust me to keep their identity confidential.”

“And I shouldn’t even be dragging you along on my interviews!”

They squared off for a moment, staring each other down.

“You look pretty sexy when you’re angry, Poole.”

“You look pretty hot yourself, Kingsley.”

“Your grandmother home?”

“Watching a movie.”

“Dammit.”

“How about a quickie in your car?”

A wolfish grin spread across his features.“Now you’re talking.”

Chapter 28

To be absolutely honest, I was glad to be out of that car. Harriet and Brutus and Milo had really gone all out on the duck smell. In fact I was afraid I now smelled of duck dung myself. Dooley must have thought the same thing, for he said,“Do you think duck dung is as deadly as fly dung, Max?”

“Oh, don’t listen to Milo. He’s full of dung.”

“Brutus was acting weird, though, wasn’t he? Do you think the dung got to him?”

“Could be,” I admitted, though it was far more likely Milo had gotten to him.

The silence in the car had been deafening, and I blamed it all on the intruder. Before Milo things had been fine, and now there was this constant tension. It was starting to affect me adversely. As in, my digestion wasn’t as robust as it usually is. Could also be the fact that Dooley had eaten all my Cat Snax to get rid of his make-believe worms and Milo had eaten all of my Fancy Feast Seafood and now all that was left was my usual kibble and some milk.

Bummer.

“You know, Max? I’m glad we finally got to go out with Odelia again. I missed it.”

“Me, too, buddy.”

“And I’m glad we were able to help her. Do you think she’ll catch those killers?”

“I’m sure she will. How many men with a strawberry nose are out there?”

“Not many, I’ll bet.”

“Nope.”

Dooley gave me a sideways glance.“Max?”

“Mh?”

“I’m glad we’re friends again.”

“Me, too, Dooley.”

“I don’t like it when we fight.”

“I love you, buddy.”

“I love you, too.”

And it was with a lighter heart that I pranced along the sidewalk, on our way to cat choir. The choir convenes every night, though not all members show up each time. Cat choir is not so much an expression of our artistic sensibilities as an excuse to hang out and shoot the breeze. Cats used to hang out on rooftops and such, but the park is a much better place. Plenty of trees to climb—us cats love climbing trees—and plenty of critters in the undergrowth—us cats love catching critters even more than climbing trees—so it’s all good.

We arrived at the park and saw that it was already humming with activity. Not musical activity, even though some cats were already warming up those vocal cords by performing deep-breathing exercises and singing scales.

“Ooh, eee, aah,” they were screeching.

A sporadic boot was already tumbling down from the windows of the houses overlooking the park, but it was clear the boot-throwers’ hearts weren’t in it, as these boots were old and worn-out. The real nice boots only came later, when choir practice really kicked in and stupefied humans picked up any footwear they could lay their hands on.

“Hey, you guys,” said Shanille, who was cat choir’s conductor. She’s a gray cat with white stripes and belongs to Father Reilly. She sniffed the air. “What’s that terrible smell?”

“Duck dung,” said Dooley before I could intervene.

Shanille looked thoughtful.“I don’t know if I shouldn’t dismiss you. There’s a hygiene rule in the cat choir rulebook about making sure you’re properly bathed and washed before you arrive. Some of our members are very sensitive to pervasive odors, you know.”