4c392a139708e5efb30cc267dbb0c768

And as we watched, a rerun of the footage was shown. It was clearly shot with a smartphone, as the footage was shaky and the lighting was lousy. Filmed at night, it showed Victoria Salt stumbling out of her house, a garbage bag in hand. She was unsteady on her feet, and had probably been hitting the bottle a little too enthusiastically. Three cats were enjoying a leisurely evening atop the trash container when Victoria came upon them.

First she seemed to hurl a few well-chosen insults at the cats, then she was throwing the garbage bag at them, and when one cat didn’t move fast enough, she kicked it so hard it flew through the air and landed ten feet away before skittering away as fast as it could.

She then teetered back into the house, and that’s where the short reel ended.

“Oh. My. God,” said Harriet. “Kit Katt hates cats!”

“What if that had been Koh?” asked Shanille. “Can you imagine?”

“I can,” said Harriet, and it was obvious the two lady cats were fast friends once more.

“I don’t like this, Max,” said Dooley. “Kit Katt was my hero. And now she’s not.”

“How the mighty have fallen,” Brutus grumbled, shaking his head. “What a mess.”

All around us, cats were expressing their anger and disappointment, and it was obvious now that there probably wouldn’t be a new season ofKit Katt& Koh, filmed in Hampton Cove or elsewhere.

And that’s when I saw it. One of the men had gotten up from the couch and now stood staring out the window, mouth agape, eyes wide, at the sea of cats gathered in front of the old factory building. He stirred his colleague, and now they both stood goggling at us.

I was goggling, too. For one of the men was short with a strawberry nose and a purple spot on his upper lip. The other one was tall with a wispy little mustache.

I’d found them. I’d found Dick Dickerson’s duck poop killers.

Chapter 47

Odelia drove at breakneck speed through Hampton Cove’s suburb, making Chase grip the dashboard and admonish her not to kill any pedestrians or other vulnerable road users. She made it to the other side of town in what probably was some kind of world record, and parked her car right next to Uncle Alec’s in front of the old watchcase factory, now deserted.

Or at least that’s what she thought. In front of the factory hundreds of cats had gathered, and on top of the hood of Uncle Alec’s car, Max, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus sat.

Her uncle greeted her jovially. He looked healthy and rosy.

“Hey, Uncle Alec,” she said, getting out of the car. “Where’s Tracy?”

“Flew out to Paris two hours ago. Shooting another beer commercial.”

“Hey, you guys,” she said to her four cats. “What’s going on here?”

Chase, who’d joined her, gave her a strange look. “Dammit, Poole. You scare me sometimes. Do you know you sounded like you were talking cat just now?”

She’d totally forgotten about Chase. So she laughed lightly. “And what if I was?”

Now he laughed, then Uncle Alec also laughed, and then they were all laughing.

Very funny.

Max was talking, though, and she listened intently. Then she shot a quick look in the direction of the factory building.“I have a hunch we better check this out, Chief,” she said.

“A hunch, huh?” her uncle said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Check what out?” asked Chase. “I don’t get it.”

“You know our Odelia,” said Uncle Alec. “Her and her hunches. We better take a look, son.” And he started in the direction of the small feline assembly. By now they were dispersing, moving in groups of twos and threes and fours, and they all looked outraged.

She didn’t wonder. If what Max had just told her was true, a lot ofKit Katt& Koh fans would be extremely disappointed. It was the other thing he said, though, that was more important.

“You better be careful, uncle,” she said as they approached the building.

“Careful about what?” asked Chase, continuing being mystified.

“Odelia thinks Dickerson’s killers may be holed up in there,” said Uncle Alec.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Chase muttered, and reached for his gun. Unfortunately he wasn’t wearing his gun belt. Or any of the other police paraphernalia, and neither was Uncle Alec. Both men were in civvies.

“I’ll call for backup,” grunted Alec, and took out his phone.

Soon the scene would be crawling with cops as well as cats.

She just hoped Max was right—not that she doubted his astuteness.

They approached the front of the building, and Odelia gestured to the window where the cat presence was still most pronounced.“They’re in there,” she said, drawing a curious look from Chase. She shrugged. “Just a wild guess.”

“Don’t tell me. Another one of your mysterious sources, huh?” said Chase.