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  “It’s all right, Maxie, baby,” said Brutus finally. “It’s happened to us all.”

  And it had, which meant it was turning into a serious problem. I mean, what good is it to be able to talk to your human, if that human is always busy talking to her significant other human? None whatsoever, right?

  Anyway, I know I’m nagging and whining, which is so not me. Cats rarely nag and whine. At least not this cat. Still, being ignored by your favorite human in all the world is a tough one, and if I hadn’t known better I’d have thought Odelia sometimes did it on purpose, to show us that things had changed around here. That we were no longer her top priority.

  Just then Odelia and Chase moved to the door, then passed out into the street and we could hear the key being turned in the lock. Silence reigned for a moment, as we all stared at the closed door. Finally, Harriet spoke. “Correct me if I’m wrong, you guys. But did Odelia just forget to take us along?”

  Chapter 4

  Odelia was already in her pickup and maneuvering the vehicle away from the curb when she felt Chase’s eyes raking her visage.

  “What?” she asked as she reached the end of the road, then flashed her blinker to take the turn.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” asked Chase, looking amused.

  “Forget what?” she asked, her mind now occupied by all that she’d read on Leonidas Flake. The man had lived a full life, that much was obvious. Born in Paris, France, he’d launched himself as a contender in the fashion trade in the sixties. He’d worked for several of the big fashion houses before establishing his own brand, which had made him a household name over the course of the six decades he’d been in the business. Now everyone the world over, from the cognoscenti to the non-cognoscenti, was aware of the name Leonidas Flake. A name that brought to mind gorgeous haute couture, but also couture designed for the masses, in his prêt-à-porter collections and collaborations with some of the major clothing retailers like Gap, Banana Republic, J. Crew and H&M.

  “Weren’t you planning on taking your cats along?” asked Chase now.

  She frowned at him, then glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, God,” she said, suddenly mortified. “I forgot my cats!”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  Immediately she performed a U-turn and before long was right back where she started. She cut the engine but before she could jump from the vehicle, Chase had already beaten her to the punch.

  “I’ll get them,” he said.

  She shook her head in dismay. What was wrong with her? She’d never ever forgotten her cats before. Never. Her excuse, of course, was that she’d been so busy thinking about the case her uncle had landed in her lap that she’d totally forgotten about her little dears. As she glanced over, she saw them walking out of the house, single file, right behind Chase. They didn’t look happy. In fact Max was giving her an accusatory look that she absolutely deserved.

  They hopped into the car without a word, then sat silently staring before them, not deigning her a single glance.

  “Look, I’m sorry, all right?” she tried. “I was so wrapped up in this Leonidas business that I completely forgot. I’m so, so sorry, you guys.”

  “We can forgive you, Odelia,” finally spoke Harriet, “but we’ll never forget.”

  Her words elicited a snicker from Brutus, but the nasty glance she gave him quickly shut him up.

  “What do you mean?” Odelia asked.

  “It means we’re insulted,” said Harriet. “And a cat never forgets.”

  “I think that’s elephants, though,” said Max.

  “Cats, too,” said Dooley. “We have a mind like a steel trap.”

  “That’s elephants,” Max insisted. “Elephants never forget a face, or if someone stepped on their toe at some point. They will take revenge, even if years have passed since the toe-stepping incident.”

  “How can someone step on an elephant’s toes?” said Brutus. “Have you seen an elephant’s foot? He doesn’t even have toes.”

  “An elephant does have toes,” Max insisted stubbornly, “and if you step on them he’ll never forget your face, and the first chance he gets, even if a hundred years have passed, he’ll step right back on your toes. Quid pro quo.”

  “Quit what?” asked Brutus.

  “If an elephant stepped on my toes I’d be flat as a pancake,” said Harriet.

  “I’m sure it’s not elephants but cats that never forget a face,” said Dooley. “It was on the Discovery Channel.”

  “Oh, my God!” said Harriet. “Will you shut up about the Discovery Channel for one minute!”

  Odelia turned back to face the front, put the car in gear, and soon they were tootling along the road in perfect silence, apart from Dooley’s occasional mutterings about elephants and things he’d seen on the Discovery Channel.

  They made good time, and before long had left Hampton Cove behind and were driving along the coast, where all the billionaires lived—and the occasional millionaire who got lost when looking to land a house deal. This was celebrity land, with more celebrities living in close proximity than in probably any other place in the country, except, of course, Beverly Hills or Malibu, where celebrities tend to spring up like a rash, or a fungoid growth.

  “Nice houses,” said Chase finally as they passed million-dollar home after million-dollar home. Not that there was a lot to see, as billionaires are notoriously shy, and don’t like to show their faces or even their million-dollar dwellings, except in the form of an exclusive spread in Architectural Digest.

  “I wouldn’t mind living here,” said Harriet as she stared out the window.

  “I would,” said Max, surprisingly. “I like my home just the way it is.”

  “Small, you mean?” asked Harriet.

  “Cozy,” he countered. “These McMansions are so gigantic you can spend days wandering around without meeting a single soul. You could probably get lost and only be found when there’s nothing left of you but a rotting carcass.”

  “Aren’t we in a sunny mood?” said Brutus.

  “Just a passing thought,” said Max.

  “You exaggerate, Max,” said Harriet, who liked her celebrities.

  “No, I don’t. And it’s probably the reason these celebrity couples never stick it out for more than a couple of months. They move in together, then never see each other again as they live in separate wings, and if they do happen to run into each other they haven’t seen each other for so long they don’t even recognize their spouse and call the police to report a prowler.”

  The cats all laughed at this, and so did Odelia. The only one who didn’t laugh was Chase, which was understandable, as he didn’t understand the finer points of the feline language. So Odelia translated the joke to him and he nodded. “I think there’s a lot of wisdom in that,” he said. “Who said it? Max?”

  “Hey,” said Brutus. “Why does it always have to be Max who says the clever stuff? I’m clever, too!”

  “It was Brutus,” said Odelia quickly, in an attempt to pour oil on trouble waters.

  “No, it wasn’t,” Brutus muttered.

  “Oh?” said Chase, sounding surprised.

  “Why is he sounding so surprised?” asked Brutus. “I’m a very clever cat!”

  “Don’t act so surprised,” said Odelia. “Brutus feels a little offended.”

  “I’m right here!” said Brutus.

  “Well, I didn’t mean to,” said Chase. “It’s just that you mention Max the most, and hardly ever talk about the others.”

  Odelia felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Chase,” she said. “Maybe you shouldn’t…”

  “Shouldn’t what?” said Harriet, whose eyes had turned into tiny slits. “Mention that Max is your favorite? Oh, but we’ve known about that for a long time, haven’t we?”

  “Yes, we have,” Brutus grumbled.

  “You guys, I’m not Odelia’s favorite,” said Max, laughing. “Not by a mile. In fact if there’s one favorite in Odelia’s life it’s Chase.”
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  “Max is right,” said Dooley. “He used to be the favorite but now Chase is.”

  “You guys!” said Odelia, mortified. “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t play favorites! I love you all the same.”

  “Is that why you hardly ever spend time with us anymore?” asked Harriet now. “And why you spend all of your time with Chase?”

  “Look, if I have, I’m sorry, all right?” Had she been spending all of her time with Chase? Hard to imagine. Then again, maybe Harriet was right. Since Chase had moved in they had been spending a lot of time together. And lately they’d gone on a lot of dates—movie nights, dinners, the odd show or concert.

  “Look, if I have neglected you, I promise I’ll make it up to you, all right?”

  “And how are you going to do that?” asked Harriet, who seemed to be the self-appointed president of the cat complaints committee.

  “I’ll… take you all out on a date. Just the five of us. We’ll hang out all night and have the time of our lives.”

  “We’re cats, Odelia,” said Max. “We don’t go out on dates.”

  “Yeah, you’re confusing us with dogs,” said Harriet.

  “So what would you like to do?” she asked, desperate to make it up to her feline menagerie.

  “Just spend a cozy evening at home,” said Max.

  “Without Chase, you mean?”

  Max hesitated, then stuck his head together with the others while they seriously considered this question.

  Finally, they broke the huddle and Max cleared his throat. “We don’t mind if Chase is there, as long as we all get snuggle time on the couch with you.”

  “We’ll time it,” Dooley suggested. “There’s five of us, Chase included, so you can spend fifty percent of your time paying attention to us, and fifty percent to Chase.”

  “I don’t think that’s fair,” said Brutus. “We should all get twelve percent of her time. Fair is fair.”

  “What are those precious little furballs talking about?” asked Chase with a smile. He still found it hilarious that Odelia’s cats could talk.

  “We’re in the middle of a negotiation. One night spent at home, with equal face time with me. Right now we’re at twelve percent for each of you.”

  “Huh. Interesting.”

  “One night isn’t enough,” said Max. “I’d say you spend one night out on the town with Chase, the other nights at home with us. Take it or leave it.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Max,” she said.

  “Strictly speaking she should spend 1.4 nights with Chase, and 5.6 nights with us,” said Dooley, who’d clearly been making complicated calculations in his head.

  “We can work out the details later,” said Harriet. “Right now all we want from you is a preliminary agreement.”

  “Um…” said Odelia. She’d suddenly noticed that a car had been following them for a while now. It wasn’t trying very hard not to be noticed either: the little red Peugeot was almost bumper to bumper with Odelia’s pickup, and the little old lady that sat behind the wheel had her face practically plastered to the windshield and was staring at them intently.

  Chase had noticed, too, for he suddenly asked, a slight note of worry in his voice, “Um, babe? Why is your grandmother trying to ram us off the road?”

  Chapter 5

  If there’s one thing I’m grateful for it is that cats are not able to drive cars. The plain truth of the matter is that I don’t like cars. What’s to like, really? Cars smell funny, they’re cramped and closed off, like a big metal box, and they move way too fast most of the time. And then of course there’s the fact that cats don’t wear seatbelts. I mean, the first car manufacturer who designs seatbelts for pets still has to arrive on the scene. Elon Musk, maybe? At any rate, even if seatbelts for pets were invented, I don’t think I’d use them. Too confining. They’d probably feel like a noose, or, worse, a leash, and as you well know cats don’t condone leashes. We’re not dogs, for crying out loud!

  One of the issues that vex me when riding in cars with strangers, or even non-strangers like Odelia, is the harrowing driving style of most humans. They drive their cars as if they’re bumper cars, looking for other cars they can hit. Humans seem to enjoy driving at breakneck speeds through places teeming with people, pets and kids, where at any given moment one of those people, pets or kids might wander into the flight path of the incoming vehicle and be run over. It’s one of those absurdities I’ve never understood. One of those maniacs was now giving chase, flashing their lights and leaning on their horn, probably wanting to overtake us but not being able to, due to space constraints on this stretch of road, as well as cars coming from the opposite direction. Then, when I glanced back, to see who this road rage person could be, I was surprised to find that it was none other than Grandma Muffin!

  Then again, I probably shouldn’t have been too surprised. Gran is the worst driver known to man, and that is saying something. She drives as if she’s the only person on the road, which was probably the case back when she got her license, but in the meantime more drivers have arrived on the scene, a fact which irks her to such an extent she tries to remove them from her path like corn before her sickle. She usually drives Marge’s little red Peugeot, since Marge doesn’t really need it to go to work, the library being within walking distance from the house. If I were Uncle Alec, though, I’d have grounded Gran a long time ago. A question of protecting the safety of the many from the lack of driving skills of the few, if you see what I mean.

  “I think she wants us to pull over,” said Odelia now.

  “I think she wants to run us over,” said Chase, craning his neck.

  Odelia slowed down the car, then parked it on the shoulder. Grandma, true to Chase’s predictions, pulled over right behind us and got out. She didn’t look happy. In fact it wasn’t too much to say she looked livid.

  “Hey!” she shouted even before she’d reached us. “Hey, you!”

  Odelia rolled down the window. “Gran. What’s wrong?”

  “I had to hear it from Tex, who had to hear it from Marge, who had to hear it from Alec!” she said, shaking her fists like one about to blow her top.

  “Hear what?” asked Odelia.

  “That there’s been a murder!”

  “Has there been a murder?” asked Odelia.

  “Don’t you play dumb with me, missy!” said Gran, still fuming.

  Grandma Muffin, who is Marge and Alec’s mother, is a little old lady, with tiny white curls and tiny round glasses. She looks like Sylvester Stallone’s mom in that ageless classic Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot if Estelle Getty hadn’t dyed her hair in that one. If you see Gran for the first time you might be mistaken to think she’s one of those sweet old ladies who bake cookies for her grandkids and read them bed-time stories. Gran isn’t like that. She’s more likely to shoot you where you stand than sing a lullaby. At least if New York gun laws weren’t so strict, and if her son didn’t keep a close eye on her.

  “So why wasn’t I invited?” she demanded, practically stomping her foot.

  “Invited to what?” asked Odelia, still playing coy.

  “To the murder! You know how much I like a good murder!”

  “Nobody likes a murder, Gran,” said Odelia. “Murders are horrible, and not something to be enjoyed.”

  “You promised me I could tag along when you had another murder case. You know as well as I do what a great team we make. Like Starsky and Hutch. I’m Hutch, of course, the pretty one, and you’re the Brooklyn babe.”

  “I’m not from Brooklyn.”

  “Who cares! We’re a team! You don’t break up the team!”

  Odelia rubbed her eyes. “Well, I guess I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Wake me! I’ve been up since five! I was up while you were still in la la land!” She stuck her head in the window and directed a scathing look at Chase. “You!”

  “Ma’am?” said Chase, meeting Gran’s kindling eye.

  She wagged a bony finger at him.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Detective Kingsley. Hogging my granddaughter’s time like that. You know as well as I do that I only got a couple of good years left to spend with my one and only grandchild, and you’re stealing it!”

  “I’m very sorry, ma’am,” he said, trying not to grin and failing.

  “What’s with all the ma’am crap! It’s Mrs. Muffin!”

  “Of course, Mrs. Muffin.”

  “I could be dead tomorrow, and because of you Odelia would have missed her last chance to spend some quality time with her favorite granny.”

  “You’re my only granny, Gran,” said Odelia.

  “Only because Tex’s folks were a bunch of ninnies who croaked before their time. It just goes to show we should cherish the little time we have.”

  “Hop in, Mrs. Muffin,” said Chase. “We were just driving down to check out the murder scene now.”

  “I’m not hopping in with you. Not after having been so rudely ignored. But I will drive along behind you. Who’s in charge of this here investigation?”

  “I guess I am,” said Chase, as if the thought had only now occurred to him.

  “Consider me your sidekick from now on. I’m sticking to you like glue!”

  And with these words full of promise, she stomped back to her vehicle, got in and slammed the door, then sat staring at us with an expectant look.

  “We better do as she says,” said Chase. “I have a feeling she’ll kill us if we don’t.”

  “I’d really hoped she’d sit this one out,” said Odelia as she started the car.

  “Oh, so you did leave her behind on purpose.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t think it through.”

  “Great,” he said. “And now she’ll stick to me like glue.” But he was grinning, indicating he didn’t mind.