efe24af1849d5822a0fb0e585c983840

“Oh, right,” he said, giving this some thought. “Well, something must have happened, and I’ll bet it’s got something to do with this key ceremony.”

“Sure, Dooley,” I said with an indulgent smile at my friend. He might not be the world’s greatest private eye, but you couldn’t say he didn’t have a lot of imagination.

The conversation inside Uncle Alec’s office seemed to have wound down, and so we jumped down from the windowsill, and decided to head into town, to dig a little deeper into this most baffling business. Someone somewhere must have seen something, and if they had, we’d figure out what it was before the sun went down on another day.

Chapter 35

This thing needed threshing out, but as everyone knows it’s very hard to thresh out anything on an empty stomach, so it was my intention to return home and tuck into a good helping of kibble before I tried to put my brain to work tackling this problem.

And as we passed by the General Store, I caught sight of Kingman, who was beckoning us over.

It was with some reluctance that I heeded his call. As you may remember, last time we’d come face to face with Kingman we hadn’t parted amicably. Kingman had made some disparaging remarks about your new friend Mr. Ed and I’d made it clear to him that I didn’t agree with his limited worldview. And since we’d skipped cat choir last night, because of circumstances beyond ourcontrol, we hadn’t had a chance to patch things up yet. So maybe now presented such an opportunity?

Kingman wasn’t alone: he was accompanied by Shanille, a frequent visitor to the spreading piebald. Shanille is Father Reilly’s cat, and also cat choir’s conductor.

“Well,” said the gray tabby the moment we joined the twosome. “What have you two got to say for yourselves?”

“I beg your pardon?” I said.

“You knew how important last night’s rehearsal was, and yet you decided not to show up. So you better have a damn good reason—”

“Or a doctor’s note,” Kingman added helpfully.

“We were otherwise detained,” I said a little stiffly. The day Shanille and Kingman were going to start dictating how I spent my evenings was the day hell froze over.

“Even Harriet didn’t show up, and you know how important it is that she nail that solo.”

“Harriet was detained as well,” I said, still proceeding frostily.

“We were called to a murder scene,” Dooley explained. “Only the murder hadn’t been committed yet. In fact it’s still in the process of being committed.”

Shanille frowned.“I don’t understand. If a murder is in progress, why are you wandering around here and why aren’t you out there, trying to stop it?”

“We can’t stop it,” said Dooley. “Everything is being done to stop it but so far they’re not succeeding.”

“You talk in riddles, Dooley,” said Shanille. “Please explain yourself.”

I didn’t feel like explaining myself, and I was about to advise Dooley not to explain himself either, but of course my friend is much too soft-hearted and was already blabbing away to his heart’s content.

“Lord Hilbourne was attacked last night and then kidnapped. And by the time he got to the hospital he was in a coma. So he may die or he may live. Right now things are touch and go. But if he does die, Uncle Alec already has the likely murderers locked up, even though they say they didn’t do it. Or they won’t do it when or if it ever happens.”

“Huh,” said Kingman, as he turned to me, looking for confirmation that Dooley’s tall tale actually held any veracity.

I nodded, and said in a grave tone,“Unfortunately Dooley is telling the truth.”

“So… Lord Hilbourne is in mortal danger?” asked Shanille.

“I blame the key to the city,” said Dooley, nodding seriously. “I’ll bet there’s something in that key that’s toxic, and touching the thing—probably when the key came into contact with Lord Hilbourne’s skin—some toxin or little-known poisonous alloy was introduced into his bloodstream, and now he may not live to enjoy his key.”

“The key to the city is not a real key, Dooley,” said Shanille.

“That’s what I keep telling him!” I cried.

“Well, it is a real key,” said Kingman. “An ornamental one. It doesn’t open any doors or anything. But the key he got is real. And a very nice one, too, or so I’ve been told.”

“Who told you this?” I asked, not really trusting Kingman’s judgment after the whole ‘Mr. Ed is an inferior being’ discussion.

“I heard it from Wilbur, who kept grumbling all day yesterday to anyone who would listen that he’s never received a key, even though he’s lived here all his life and he’s done a lot more for this town than any stupid blue blood import from England.”

“So it’s a real key,” I said, “but Lord Hilbourne didn’t actually touch it, did he? I mean, it’s probably like when you win a medal? It’s safely locked inside a box or frame?”

“No, it’s an actual key that’s presented on a little velvet cushion,” said Kingman. “You can hang it around your neck or hang it on your wall or whatever you want to do with it.”

“See?” said Dooley. “He must have hung it around his neck and its deleterious effect is slowly killing him.”