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I shook my head.“Odelia is a mother now, and she has Grace to take care of. So she won’t be working for the paper anymore.” Or at least that’s what I’d heard from listening in on her conversations with her husband. Even Chase wasn’t going to be risking life and limb so much anymore, as Uncle Alec had hired a new detective to take over part of his workload—some eager whippersnapper who was going to tackle crime with distinct fervor. Chase had been promoted and was going to take on a more senior role at the precinct, giving colleagues the benefit of his extensive experience.

“But… if Odelia isn’t a detective anymore, and she’s not a reporter anymore, then what is she going to do from now on?” he asked, a slight sense of panic clear in his voice. “I mean, what arewe going to do, Max?“ I glanced in his direction and could see that his features were contorted in abject confusion. “Who are we when we’re not cat sleuths?!!!”

A cat psychologist, had one been present, would have immediately recognized the symptoms as a clear indication of an impending crisis of identity. And as Dooley’s words penetrated my admittedly thick skull, suddenly I found myself sharing his vivid concern.

When we weren’t cat sleuths anymore, or spies for Odelia—what were we?!!!

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Fifi, who’d also been enjoying the way today was turning out to be one of those gloriously sunny days when the sun really gives of its best, couldn’t help but overhear the musings of her two best friends Max and Dooley. She might have been sunbathing on her side of the hedge—Kurt got a little anxious each time he lost sight of her—but since Max and Dooley were only a few yards away, and hedges aren’t soundproof, she had heard their conversation word for word.

And it had got her thinking. She’d always admired Max as being one of those brainy cats—cats that can solve any riddle big or small. In the time they’d been friends and neighbors, she’d known the big blorange cat to catch many a criminal by working his way through clues that were too difficult for her to fathom, and it had only served to make her admiration for her neighbor increase with leaps and bounds.

And so now that Max’s stellar career had abruptly come to an end, she felt sorry for the cat. Dooley was right, of course: if they weren’t cat sleuths anymore, then what were they? Too young to retire, but perhaps not too old to change careers? It was a difficult puzzle to figure out for a tiny Yorkie whose brainhadn’t been constructed along the lines of her brainy feline neighbor. It just made her wonder what the future would bring. She hoped it was sunshine and rainbows.

CHAPTER 5

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Tex was subjecting his garden house to a closer inspection. It wasn’t a very large garden house, as garden houses go, but in his estimation it was certainly big enough to house a bathroom of modest proportions. In his infinite wisdom he had decided that he wasn’t going to engage a cowboy builder after all. He was going to do the work himself. How hard could itbe? Also, it was a lot cheaper that way, and the less people were involved in the erection of this illegal construction, the better. Marge had given him her blessing, and had suggested he ask his son-in-law for a helping hand and also her brother Alec. Together, the three of them would build a bijou bathroom—he was absolutely sure about it.

And so it was with a grin of anticipatory satisfaction that he stepped into the garden house, measuring tape in hand, and started measuring. He measured the floor, he measured the ceiling, he measured the windows—he even measured the lawnmower. And he was still busy measuring for all he was worth when an irascible voice brought him out of his measuring mesmerization.

“You’re not seriously considering building a bathroom out here, are you?” the voice demanded.

He didn’t even have to look up to identify the owner of the voice. It was, of course, his mother-in-law. “And what if I am?” he asked, injecting a modicum of rebellion into his tone. He wondered how she’d found out. Then again, Vesta had a way of sniffing out secrets. She wasn’t the head of the neighborhood watch by accident. He turned to face what he often described as the bane of his existence.

“Why, it’s way too small in here,” said Vesta, subjecting the dusty interior to a critical frown. “If you’re going to build something, you gotta think big, Tex—a lot bigger than this.”

“What are you talking about?” he said coldly.

“Look, you’re going to spend a lot of time and a lot of money on this thing, so why not scale up? Create something we can all enjoy: you, me, Marge, Odelia—the whole family.”