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“Now if there’s nothing else, I’d like to go back to sleep, cat,” said Ma.

“My name is Max, by the way,” I said, starting to see I’d totally misread these mice.

“And I’m Dooley,” said Dooley.

“I’m Helga, and this is Hector, and we run a clean house with strict rules. No pooping on steps, no stealing of food, no chewing on computer cables. We provide our kids a nutritious diet consisting of berries and seeds we source from the backyard, insects and beetles we find inside, and in so doing keep your house free of bugs and roaches and suchlike pests. We believe in paying our dues and being a credit to any homeowner.”

“Yeah, we don’t want any trouble, Max,” said Hector. “And I apologize for my kids’ appalling behavior. They’re a little rambunctious sometimes, but they’re good kids.”

“I’d like to add it’s very good of you to keep us informed of what they’ve been up to,” said Helga with a nod. “There’s so many of them it’s hard to keep track sometimes.”

“So… can you guarantee us this won’t happen again?” I asked.

“You have my word, Max,” said Hector, holding up a small paw. “I believe in being neighborly, and I hope you feel the same way.”

“Well, I do, actually,” I said, much relieved as I tapped his paw. “I mean, if you promise to keep the house free of bugs and roaches, I don’t see why we all can’t live together.”

“In perfect harmony,”Dooley sang softly.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Hector, looking pleased, his nose twitching happily.

“Now if there’s nothing further, I’m going back to sleep,” said his wife. “I have an early day tomorrow, and it’s very late already. So goodnight, cats. And goodnight, kids.”

“Goodnight, Ma,” said the kids. “Goodnight, Pa.”

And before I could say anything more, Helga and her offspring were gone. One moment they were there, the next they’d disappeared into the walls.

“So are we good?” asked Hector anxiously.

“Yeah, we’re good,” I said. “I’ll tell Odelia she doesn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Odelia is the homeowner?”

“Yeah, she is. She’s nice. She’s not going to try and kill you with poison or whatever.”

“You’re pretty exceptional cats yourselves. You don’t hunt mice, like most cats do?”

“No, we don’t believe in that sort of thing,” I said.

“We’re humanists,” Dooley explained.

“Admirable,” said Hector.

“Oh, one more question,” I said. “A couple of months ago there was a family of mice living next door. That wasn’t you guys, was it?”

“No, that was Molly and Rupert.” He sniffed. “We don’t like Rupert. He’s a distant cousin thrice removed, but hasn’t got the same high standards and values we have. He’s more what you might call a squatter, and for that reason gets kicked out of his home on a regular basis. We believein keeping ourselves to ourselves, and not making trouble.”

“It’s better this way,” I said.

“Much better,” Dooley agreed.

“Okay, well, sleep tight, fellas. And don’t let the bed bugs bite. And if they do, just tell me and I’ll gladly take them off your paws.” And laughing at his own little joke, he retreated, and once again the basement was quiet as a… mouse.

And as Dooley and I trudged up the stairs again, he whispered,“Very nice people, these mice, Max.”

And I had to admit that he was right. They were very nice. And they’d just saved us a lot of trouble.

“You see, Dooley,” I said. “Not all cats show brute force when fighting a mouse infestation. Some cats show kindness, decency and respect, and it gets you just as far.”

“Or even further.”

“Or even further,” I agreed.

I just hoped Hector and Helga would be able to keep their rambunctious family on a tight rein.

Chapter 30

Scarlett Canyon woke up from an incessant ringing, and glanced over to her nightstand, wondering if by some act of stupidity she’d put her alarm clock last night. But then she remembered she hadn’t owned an alarm clock in years. When she retired she’d thrown it in the trash and good riddance, too. After selling clothes for a living for over forty years, enough was enough.

She picked up her phone and saw that it was only five o’clock, and realized simultaneously that it was actually her doorbell that was ringing, and not her alarm.

Now what kind of fool could be ringing her doorbell at such an ungodly hour?

Cursing, she got out of bed, removed the hair cover that kept her platinum perm in position, and removed the gel mask that kept her face in position.

Staggering across the bedroom floor, she grabbed her nightgown, cinched the strap, and walked to the front door of her apartment. Peeking through the little peephole, she was surprised to find Vesta Muffin standing on her doorstep.

Relief, too, though, if she had to be honest. At least it wasn’t some Jack the Ripper wannabe come to carve her up, or the taxman to announce that the IRS had had another look at her file and decided she owed a couple of thousand dollars in back taxes.

So she opened the door and said in merry voice,“Don’t tell me you found a clue and couldn’t wait to tell me!”