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“Yeah, they must have escaped from the car,” Chase said, coming to her aid.

“Oh,” said Brenda, and she didn’t seem very amused. “Well, then. I guess you better come with me and gather them up before Vivicia turns them into meat for my pet lizard.”

Chapter 33

For the first time in my life I’d been caught and locked up by a human. This cleaner was definitely a force of nature. In one fell swoop she’d grabbed us by the scruff of the neck and had thrown us into a dark cupboard, where we now resided.

“Um, I don’t like this, Max,” said Dooley. “It’s dark in here and it smells.”

“Oh, do shut up, Dooley,” Harriet said irritably, as if Dooley was to blame for our predicament. “Instead of complaining, why don’t you help us find a way out of here?”

“There is no way out of here,” said Dooley. “I checked. It’s some kind of cloakroom.”

He was right. It was a cloakroom. A very small one, and all it contained were musty-smelling coats and sweaters and shoes. Not a nice place for a cat to be cooped up in.

“We have to keep our heads, you guys,” I said. “The trick is to be ready when that door opens—and sooner or later it will open—and shoot out as fast as we can—away from that horrible woman with the broom.”

“Maybe you can send a telepathic message to Brutus,” said Dooley, who didn’t seem to give a lot of credence to my escape plan. “Tell him to come and save us.”

“Brutus is only thinking about himself right now,” said Harriet with a bitter undertone to her voice. “And how Milo is his new best friend. It wouldn’t surprise me if those two are plotting to get us all chucked out of the Poole family’s lives and shipped off to the pound.”

“They’ll have to take a number,” said Dooley. “That woman with the broom looked like she was going to send us to the pound first.”

“Or turn us into minced meat,” I muttered.

“Max, you’re scaring me,” said Dooley. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Fine. I won’t,” I said.

“That was one scary-looking lizard, though,” said Harriet. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he told that cleaner to capture us and turn us into tasty morsels to snack on.”

“Harriet!” Dooley cried. “Please!”

“Fine!” she retorted. “Maybe you can telepathically connect to Odelia and tell her to save us.”

Dooley closed his eyes and muttered,“Odelia, please save us. Odelia, please save us. Odelia, please—”

“Oh, shut up already,” said Harriet, who was one of those cats prone to fickleness.

But Dooley was not to be deterred.“Odelia, please—”

Suddenly the door opened and I shot out like a rocket—or even faster!

“Max!” suddenly a voice arrested my progress. Reluctantly, I applied the brakes and when I looked back I saw that it was Odelia and she was holding Dooley in her arms, Harriet having jumped up in Chase’s arms, and accompanying them was the horrible woman who’d imprisoned us and a woman witha big glob of gray hair and a tall guy with white hair.

“It’s all right, Max,” said the woman with the big hair, crouching down until her knees cracked. “Odelia explained everything to me. Come here, little guy. You’re just fine.”

I stepped up to her, wondering why no one had ever told this woman that heliotrope was not a color that suited her skin tone. And as I approached, I sniffed a decidedly delicious aroma. It was Paloma Picasso, the scent Odelia sometimes applies when she goes out on a date with Chase. So I crossed those final few feet, and jumped into the woman’s arms. She rose, her knees cracking some more, and groaned from the exertion.

She smelled nice, and with Odelia and Chase present I didn’t think she’d dare stuff me into the mincer and turn me into lizard food.

“That cat looks good on you, darling,” said the white-haired man jovially.

“No, I’m not taking a cat, John,” said the woman, but from the way she was stroking my fur, and enjoying the sound of my purr, I could tell she was a goner.

Us cats have a secret weapon when dealing with humans: the softness of our fur and the burr of our purr. It soothes the nerves and warms the heart and makes humans fall head over heels in love with us and give us everything we need, until half of their kingdom.

Some people are impervious to our secret charm, though, and the cleaner who’d corralled us into the cloakroom was clearly one of them. She stood eyeing me with one of those skeptical expressions on her round face, her bushy brows wiggling with ill-concealed menace. And the thought occurred to me that she might be Dickerson’s killer.

Serial killers often hate pets. And this woman definitely looked like a serial killer.

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“Are you sure about that?” asked Brutus.

“Absolutely,” said Milo.

The two cats were seated side by side on two deck chairs, looking out at the waves gently lapping at the shoreline. This was the life, Brutus thought. No bossy Max to contend with. No girlfriend trying to force her opinions on him. The only thing missing was his bowl of food and a television playingKit Katt& Koh, his new favorite TV show.