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“Oh, Gabi’s advice is always sound,” said Harriet. “Her answer to me was nothing short of brilliant.”

“You asked her for advice?”

“Of course I did,” she said primly, and hopped down from the couch.

“So what was it?” I asked, my curiosity thoroughly piqued.

“None of your business, Max,” she said a little haughtily. “Suffice it to say her answer gave me plenty of food for thought.” And with these words, she walked off.

After Dooley and I had followed her departure, our gazes swiveled to Brutus, who was shaking his head.“I’m sorry, you guys,” he said. “I really can’t. She told me not to tell anyone, and that includes you.”

“Oh, come on, Brutus,” I said. “You cannotnot tell us after that buildup. Spill.”

But he pressed his lips together and went on shaking his head, as if afraid he might inadvertently blurt out Harriet’s big secret if he opened his mouth.

“Does it have something to do with lingerie?” asked Dooley.

“No, it does not,” said Brutus. “No lingerie involved whatsoever. And please don’t ask me because I won’t tell you.” He made to jump down from the couch, but I stopped him with a gesture from my paw.

“Tell us, Brutus. We’re all friends here, and friends don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“In this case, yes, they do,” he intimated.

“Oh, I know,” said Dooley. “Harriet is actually Desperate Debbie, and the husband she was complaining about is you, isn’t it, Brutus?”

“No, it’s not!” said Brutus, sounding a little incensed. “I’ll have you know that Harriet has never had anything to complain about where our love life is concerned. Not once.”

“Oh,” said Dooley. He shrugged. “Well, then I have no idea what she means.”

I had no idea either, and I won’t conceal the fact that it irked me. I mean to say, I never have any secrets to hide from my housemates, so I didn’t see why they would keep secrets from me. It wasn’t fair. But then I figured there was a simple solution: clearly Harriet’s question had been answered to her satisfaction by this Gabi, so all I had to do was sift through the different questions until I’d found the one Harriet had posted.

“Sorry,” said Brutus, looking distinctly uncomfortable, and jumped down from the couch. The moment he’d gone, I checked Odelia’s tablet for answers. I quickly scrolled through the many letters people had sent in and the answers Gabi had posted. None of them struck me as Harriet’s, though,and when I finally gave up I still wasn’t any the wiser.

I found Dooley staring at me with a bemused expression on his face.

“What?” I asked.

“Cats don’t need lingerie,” he said, as if he’d just had an epiphany. “If we rub our furs together the crackle should be enough to create plenty of babies.” His eyes went wide. “Oh, no!” He gulped. “Every time I rub myself against Odelia’s new fleece sweater there’s a definitecrackle. I hope I didn’t get myself pregnant!”

Chapter 2

Vesta Muffin stood staring at the wrought-iron gate in front of her, then down at the little piece of paper Dan Goory had given her. Yep, it looked like she was at the right place, all right. So she took a deep breath and pressed her finger on the buzzer.

“Oh, great,” a voice spoke behind her. Even without turning she already knew who the voice belonged to. Scarlett Canyon, not exactly her favorite person in the world.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, more a growl than a politely phrased question.

“I could ask you the same thing,” said Scarlett.

Vesta turned to face her longtime nemesis. Scarlett was dressed in her usual attire: form-hugging top, ditto tiger-print leggings, and of course stiletto heels. Her formidable bust was on clear display, and her usual russet curls were a platinum blond this time.

“Are you following me?” Vesta asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Scarlett barked an incredulous laugh.“Following you! Don’t flatter yourself, Vesta. Why would I be following you?”

“Because you know I’ve just been invited by a celebrity and you can’t stand the thought of me besting you for once.”

“I’ll have you know that I’ve been invited by that very same celebrity.”

Vesta stared at the woman.“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Scarlett tilted up her chin an inch or two.“You’re looking at the one and only Dear Gabi,Hampton Cove Gazette’s very own advice columnist.”

“That’s impossible.I’m Dear Gabi!” said Vesta.

“Yes?” suddenly a voice crackled from the intercom.

“Vesta Muffin. I have an appointment with Miss Gray,” said Vesta.

“Please tell Miss Gray Scarlett Canyon has arrived,” Scarlett said, leaning into the intercom.

The gate clicked open, then, and both women moved forward as one woman. Scarlett was first to reach the widening gap in the gate and squeezed through before Vesta could, then was teetering along the drive in the direction of the main house, followed by Vesta, who easily overtook her, since she wore sensible white sneakers, her usual footwear.

“You can’t be Gabi,” she said, picking up their argument where they’d left off. “I’m Gabi. Which is exactly why Miss Gray invited me up here.”