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  “Why don’t you try singing it to him, ‘bubba,’” Brutus suggested. “Or maybe you could send him a telegram and sign it, Max, heart heart heart.”

  “So what do you suggest?” I asked.

  “I’d simply kick him off that couch. And if he doesn’t like it, tough luck.”

  “Max doesn’t kick cats off couches,” Dooley said.

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  “Because Max doesn’t believe in violence.”

  Brutus laughed. “This is just hilarious!”

  “Hey, fatso,” Diego said from the couch. “Zip it, will you? I’m trying to get some shut-eye here. Thanks, bubba.”

  Brutus made a strangled sound at the back of his throat. “Fatso?!” he finally managed. “Did you just call me fatso?”

  “Yeah, do you see another fat cat in here?” Then he caught sight of me and grinned. “Oh, I see what you mean. Okay, what about this: Hey, black fatso. Shut it.” He nodded at me. “I’ll call you orange fatso from now on. That all right with you, bubba?”

  “No, it’s not all right with me!” I cried. “I’m not orange—I’m blorange!”

  Diego rolled his eyes. “Tomato, tomahtoh. Blorange fatso, then, okay?”

  “I’m not fat! I have big bones! It runs in my family!”

  “And I’m not fat either,” Brutus cried. “I’m muscular.” He pounded his belly. “All muscle all the way. Not an ounce of fat.”

  “If it helps you sleep at night, go ahead and fool yourself,” said Diego, stifling a yawn. “Hey, you, shorty,” he said, addressing Dooley now.

  Dooley pointed at himself. “Are you talking to me?”

  “Yeah, I’m talking to you. Do you see another short cat in here? Can you tell me when lunch is served? I’m real particular about eating times.”

  Dooley was too stunned to respond. He just sat there, goggling.

  Diego heaved out a sigh. “Short and dumb. What a combo. Maybe you can tell me, fat blorange cat. When do they serve lunch in this dump?”

  “Max!” I cried, trembling with indignity now. “My name is Max!”

  “Sure. Whatever you say, dude. So?” When I stared at him, he rolled his eyes again. “Geez Louise, do I have to spell it out for you? When. Do. They. Serve. Lunch. In. This. Dump? Never mind. I’ll ask the blond bimbo when she comes back. I’ll bet she’s smarter than you bunch of chumps.”

  At this point, I, Brutus and Dooley all started yelling at the newcomer simultaneously. Unfortunately, he seemed oblivious, as he was staring past us in the direction of the French windows, which were open.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Diego said, finally displacing himself and gracefully jumping down from the couch. “Where did you spring from? Heaven?”

  I turned around to see who he was talking to, and saw that Harriet had entered the room. She was eyeing the newcomer curiously. “Who are you?”

  Diego walked up to the white Persian and grinned. “Diego. I’m new in town. And you are…”

  “Harriet.”

  “Lovely name for a lovely dame.”

  “So…” She gave me a confused look. “Do you live here now?”

  “Yeah, Odelia adopted me. I’m here to stay, babe.”

  “Odelia adopted you?” Harriet asked.

  “It’s a long story. I belonged to this old babe, then she transferred me to this cop dude, and he decided to offload me so now I’m here.”

  “Oh, you poor thing,” she said. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”

  He sighed. “Yeah, my life has not been a bed of roses, believe you me.”

  “Now that you’re here, things are going to get better,” she said.

  “Now that you’re here, I know things are gonna get better,” he purred, waggling his whiskers seductively.

  Oh, God. The cheesy lines just kept on coming! I was waiting for Harriet to finally catch on and put this guy in his place, but instead she was giving him the same look she used to give Brutus when he first arrived in Hampton Cove. Both Dooley and I glanced over at Brutus, who seemed to sit stunned, glued to the spot, eyes wide, his jaw on the floor.

  “Sweetness!” Brutus finally managed. “My precious!”

  Harriet looked up, and gave him a curt nod. “Hey, Brutus.” But instead of going over to him and smothering him with revolting kisses, like she usually did, she stayed right where she was, checking out Diego.

  Diego gave Brutus a smug smile, and asked Harriet, “Maybe you can show me around? Nobody has given me the grand tour of this place.”

  “They haven’t?” She gave me an angry look. “Max! Where are your manners?”

  “He called me fat,” I said weakly.

  “And orange,” Dooley said, just as weakly.

  “Hey, that’s what buds do,” said Diego. “Just some good-natured ribbing.”

  “Well, I’ll show you around,” said Harriet. “In fact why don’t I give you the tour of the town? Hampton Cove has a lot of great stuff to offer, and I can show you all of it.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt you can, babe,” said Diego smoothly, unashamedly checking out Harriet’s rear end and tail.

  She giggled and tapped his shoulder. “You’re funny.”

  “Thanks. I get that a lot. Especially from the ladies.”

  “You think I’m a lady?” she asked as she led him out the window.

  “I think you’re a babe. And a lady. A lady babe.”

  She giggled again. “Oh, you’re just a regular riot, aren’t you?”

  “Sugar pie?” Brutus managed hoarsely. “Honeybunch?”

  But Harriet was gone.

  We sat there in stunned silence for the space of all of five seconds.

  “What just happened?” I finally asked.

  “I think Harriet likes the new cat,” Dooley said sadly. He’d been through this before with Brutus, so he recognized the signs.

  “This isn’t happening,” said Brutus. “Is it?”

  He hadn’t been through this before. In fact this was probably the first time he’d been thrown over by someone, so the experience was entirely new. I know I should have gloated, after what he’d put us through, but I honestly couldn’t. The cat looked absolutely, positively sandbagged.

  “It’s happening,” Dooley said, patting him on the back. “It just happened.”

  “Oh, God,” he said, and I thought I heard an actual crack when the big lug’s heart broke.

  Chapter 4

  Odelia and Chase sat down for a cup of coffee at Cup o’ Mika, the coffee shop across the street from the restaurant. The coroner was still checking the body, and Chief Alec was poking around the crime scene. Odelia had talked to some more people who worked in the restaurant and they’d all confirmed that Niklaus Skad hadn’t made himself popular while he was filming the segment devoted to Fry Me for an Oyster.

  “Looks like pretty much everyone had a motive to kill the guy,” she said.

  “Looks like. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular,” Chase agreed.

  Both Chase and Uncle Alec had agreed that the crime scene was too gruesome for Odelia to see, so Chase had volunteered to keep her up to date.

  “So tell me, what was so horrible?” she asked. “I mean, I’ve seen Friday the Thirteenth. I can handle blood and gore, Chase.”

  “Are you sure? Your mom once told me you can’t watch a scary movie without yelling to stop the movie, or disappearing into the kitchen when it gets really scary.”

  “Did Mom tell you that? She must have been talking about herself.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, all right. So I love scary movies but I can’t stand the scary parts. So big deal. I’ll bet there are lots of people who close their eyes or peek through their fingers when the girl is in the shower and the masked maniac sneaks in.”

  “That’s such a cliché,” he laughed. “I’m amazed they still keep doing scenes like that.”

  “Duh. Because they’re classics? You have to have a shower scene.”

  “I thought
that went out of style after Psycho. Hard to beat the master of suspense.”

  “Well, it still works, doesn’t it? I mean, I can’t watch a scene like that.” She rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Now I gave myself away.”

  He laughed again. “You’d make a terrible killer. You’d crack during the first interview, and confess all of your crimes.”

  “I wouldn’t even be interviewed. I’ve got one of those innocent faces. The police would take one look at me and would know I could never commit murder.”

  “That’s true enough,” he admitted. “You’ve got one of those honest, open faces. A face that displays everything that goes through your mind.”

  Oops. She hoped that the fact that she had a big secret to hide would never go through her head. Aaaand of course it just had. She tried to look innocent, opening her eyes wide and giving him her best, innocent smile.

  “Now you look like you’re about to lay an egg,” he said skeptically.

  “I do not!”

  “Just kidding.”

  They sat there for a moment, enjoying a cup o’ Joe and each other’s company, and she wondered if there would ever be a repetition of the kiss he’d given her the other day in her parents’ backyard. She’d kinda liked that kiss, and had hoped there were more where that one came from.

  They locked eyes for a moment, and she wondered if he could read that particular thought on her face. He gave her a small smile, and she returned it.

  “So, the crime scene,” he said finally, ending their little moment.

  “Yes, the crime scene. Tell me all about it. In gruesome detail.”

  “Though not too gruesome. Well, apparently the killer somehow managed to stuff the body of our celebrity chef into the oven and—”

  “Wait, stuff him in the oven? How big is this oven?”

  “Big enough to roast a body, which is what they did.”

  “Niklaus Skad was roasted?”

  “Yes, roasted like a pig. Or a duck. Or whatever you want to roast.”

  “Eww. Now I don’t want to roast anything.”

  “Yeah, me neither,” he admitted.

  “At least did they kill him first before roasting him?”

  Chase lifted his massive shoulders in a shrug. “Dunno. It’s up to Abe to figure that out.”

  Abe Cornwall was the county coroner and a very able professional. If anyone could figure out what had killed the celebrity chef, it was him.

  “I’d say he’s got his work cut out for him,” Chase continued. “The body was completely unrecognizable. Had been simmering all night.”

  Odelia shivered in spite of herself. Now here was one of those moments she wanted to close her eyes and then peek at the screen from between her fingers. “Yuck.” Her eyes widened. “You don’t think they shoved him in there alive, do you? That would be a terrible way to go.”

  “Abe doesn’t think so. If that were the case there would have been claw marks or signs that he’d tried to escape. Most likely scenario is that he was knocked out—either dead or unconscious—before being cooked.”

  “So do you and Uncle Alec have any suspects?”

  “Plenty. There’s the owners of the restaurant, who were afraid to lose their business if Niklaus labeled them incompetent. There’s the chef, who seemed to be the one Niklaus singled out for abuse the most. And then there’s the other staff, who clearly all hated Niklaus and wanted him gone.”

  “I talked to the Stowes. They have an alibi.”

  She explained to him about the Echo, and Chase had to laugh.

  “That must be one of the most original alibis I’ve ever heard. Oh, and we’ll definitely check if it’s true.”

  “I’ll bet you will,” she said with a grin.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll give you the PG-13 version,” he said.

  “Hey! I may be scared of scary movies, but I’m old enough to hear all the saucy bits they ordered on Amazon!”

  His grin spread. “I’ll bet you’re dying to find out.”

  “So I can order some of that stuff myself? In your dreams, buddy.”

  “You’re right about that,” he said, and his look gave her an instant hot flash. Oh, boy. Was she in trouble or not? “Anyway,” he continued. “Next on our list is Hendrik Serarols, who’s pulled a disappearing act.”

  “Have you tried his house?”

  “Apartment. Yes, a couple of unis went by his place. Nobody home.”

  “Unis?”

  “Uniformed officers. Sorry. Force of habit.”

  Just then, Odelia’s phone rang and she saw that it was her grandmother. “I have to take this. It’s Gran.”

  “I’ll get us another round, shall I?” he suggested, and disappeared inside.

  “Hey, Gran. What’s up?”

  “Odelia, honey, the strangest thing has happened. I was opening a present I got from Leo and—”

  “Who’s Leo?”

  “Oh, just a guy I’m seeing.”

  “You’re seeing a guy?”

  “Yes, I’m seeing a guy. Can’t I see a guy? You’re seeing a guy.”

  “I’m not seeing a guy.”

  “I saw you kissing that cop.”

  “That was… nothing.”

  “If that was nothing I’d like to see what something looks like.”

  She pressed her fingers to her brow. “So you were opening Leo’s present?”

  “Yeah, a nice cashmere sweater. Not sure why he would buy me a cashmere sweater in the summer, unless it’s to tell me he wants me to cover up more, but from the way he’s all over me every time we go out I can tell that’s not it. So that’s a mixed message right there. Anyway, I guess there’s no accounting for taste.” She paused. “What was I talking about?”

  “You opened the present and something strange happened?”

  “That’s right. There was a note inside the sweater.”

  “A note? What note?”

  “I didn’t see it at first. I just saw it when I cut off the label. I always cut off the label. It just pricks my skin. I hate it. Don’t you hate it? They should make it softer. Like velvety soft. I’ve got delicate skin, so—”

  “Gran…”

  “So I cut off the label and there it was, neatly folded inside the label, a little note. I had to put on my glasses to read it.”

  “What did it say?”

  “Wait—where are my glasses? They keep stealing them from me. Oh, they’re on top of my head. Hey, not so fast! Sit down and wait. The doctor will be with you soon!”

  Gran was obviously at work, at Dad’s doctor’s office, bullying the patients into submission as usual. “So what does the label say?”

  “Hold your horses. Not so fast. Lemme just put these on and… ‘WE PRISONERS! PLEASE HELP PLEASE!’ Notice how it says Please twice? Whoever wrote this has got good manners. Want me to read it again?”

  “No, I think I got it,” she said, holding the phone away from her ear. Gran had shouted the message so loud her eardrum was still buzzing. She watched as three cats came trudging up to her. They were Max, Dooley and Brutus, and they looked like they had some very important news to impart. “Is it all right if I drop by later? I’d like to take a closer look at this note.”

  “Sure thing, honey. I’ll be here all day. Sit down, buddy—this is my final warning! SIT! Like I said, I’ll be here all day, helping these nice people.”

  Odelia disconnected, and wondered what this was all about. She’d heard about people finding messages in their clothes or household devices. Stuff made in developing countries, where working conditions were appalling. This was probably such a case. It just hurt her heart when she heard stories like that.

  “Hey, you guys,” she said, lowering her head to the three cats. “Any news?”

  “Yes,” Max said. “The new cat? Diego? He’s got to go. He’s bad news.”

  Chapter 5

  “That cat’s got to go,” I repeated, in case Odelia hadn’t heard me the first time.

  “Yeah, he’s a terrible, ho
rrible animal,” Dooley chimed in.

  “He took Harriet away from me,” Brutus said. “Just like that.”

  “Hold it, you guys,” said Odelia, laughing. “What are you saying? That you don’t like Diego?”

  “That’s exactly what we’re saying,” I said. “He called me fat and orange.”

  “And he called me short and dumb,” said Dooley.

  “And he put the moves on Harriet,” Brutus finished our lament.

  “Oh, and don’t forget he called you fat, too,” Dooley said.

  “She doesn’t have to know that,” Brutus said in a low voice. “I may have gained some weight, but not much. And I still work out every day. I climbed a tree just this morning. And I got down all on my own, too.”

  “Look, you’ll just have to learn to get along,” Odelia said. “You can’t expect me to kick out Diego. I just told Chase I’d take care of him.”

  “You can put him up for adoption,” I suggested. “I bet there are plenty of people out there who’d love to take him in.”

  “Unless they have other cats—Diego doesn’t play nice with others,” Dooley said.

  “He doesn’t play nice with males. He’s fine with females,” said Brutus.

  “A little too nice,” Dooley added.

  Odelia shook her head. “What can I say?”

  “That you’ll kick him out?” I asked hopefully.

  “I can’t do that, Max. I’m afraid Diego is here to stay.”

  Dooley, Brutus and I voiced our disagreement loud and clear, but to no avail. Apparently Odelia was set on keeping this Diego in our lives, whether we liked it or not. Just then, Chase returned, and Odelia immediately shut up.

  Chase laughed. “You know? It almost looked like you were talking to those cats of yours. It’s the funniest thing.”

  She gave him a tight smile. “Sometimes I almost feel like I know what they’re trying to say.”

  He studied us. “So what are they saying?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think it might have something to do with that cat of yours.”

  “Diego? What about him?”

  “I think they don’t like him very much.”

  He laughed again. “That’s ridiculous. They’re cats. There’s no question of liking each other. They just act on instinct.” It was obvious he’d never given a moment’s thought to the fact that cats might have feelings, too. Just like humans. And that maybe some of us were nicer than others.