PURRFECT BULLY

THE MYSTERIES OF MAX 92

NIC SAINT

PURRFECT BULLY

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Clarice to the Rescue!

Once upon a time there was a girl who was being bullied. Luckily for her she had a little brother who happened to find out and decided to engage the services of Odelia Kingsley and her clowder of cats to ‘fix’ the bully. When I told our good friend Clarice about the situation, she was sincerely moved by the girl’s plight, and appointed herself the victim’s personal bodyguard. She felt very strongly that this most delicate matter required her personal brand of subtle diplomacy. In other words: she decided to go to town on the bully—with unforseen consequences for all of us.

Meanwhile Gran was answering the urgent cry for help from one of Hampton Cove’s residents who had been noticing suspicious activities on his block and wanted the neighborhood watch to put a stop to it. And since Chase decided that he had an interest in said suspicious activities, he invited himself to ride with the watch. Suffice it to say it was the watch patrol to end all watch patrols and things didn’t exactly go according to plan. But then when do they ever?

And finally a man jumped from the balcony of his room at the Star Hotel—or was he pushed? He landed right in front of Gran and Scarlett, enjoying their usual beverage, and when the man whispered his final words into Gran’s ear, it set in motion a series of events that led to our discovery of a new hype: the Plurtle. These were plastic turtles modeled after actual turtles being held in captivity. And while we were busy saving the poor creatures from imprisonment, the Plurtle craze exploded and brought things to a head, with members of our own household in the grip of the hype.

CHAPTER 1

“How many times do I have to tell you?”

Brian looked up. He’d been busy carving a nice wooden sculpture of a turtle, and this interruption in his thought processes, such as they were, irked him to some degree.

“Huh?” he said, in that eloquent way he had of expressing himself.

“I said…” His mom seemed to think better of repeating herself, and instead yanked the knife from his hands and placed it on the table. “Have you finished your homework?”

“Well…” He thought for a moment, but then had to admit that he hadn’t.

“And why not, if I may ask?”

“Because… I have to finish my turtle?” he suggested.

The turtle was a present for his uncle Dave, and since Uncle Dave’s birthday was next week, he felt it was probably a lot more urgent to finish the turtle than to spend his precious time on such an inconsequential thing as making sure that his homework was done. After all, homework could wait, but Uncle Dave couldn’t.

“Go and finish your homework,” said Mom, who, like all moms, seemed to operate on entirely different logic. She was pointing to the door and it was clear that she wasn’t in the mood for any discussion. And so he sighed and did as he was told.

“Uncle Dave won’t be happy,” he said as he placed his foot on the first step.

“Uncle Dave knows that his nephew’s future is a lot more important than any turtles,” said Mom, proving to Brian that hers was not the kind of flexible mind his teacher Mrs. Gibson had talked about at length when discussing the great geniuses of past and present.

How could Mom not see that his future wasn’t going to be determined by the homework that he made today but by the promises he kept? Ever since Uncle Dave had become aware of his talent for wood carving, he had been pestering him to create a turtle just like the many turtles he had made before for other members of his family, all of his friends, and even for his sister, even though she had taken one look at the thing and had dropped it to the floor and unceremoniously kicked it under her bed, never to be seen again.

Clearly, she wasn’t as appreciative of his talent as Uncle Dave was.

And as he entered his room and took a seat at his desk, suddenly he got a bright idea. The kind of idea that Mrs. Gibson would surely have seen as a sign of genius. Not that he was any kind of genius, but still. It showed that he had a knack for thinking outside of the box, another aspect of geniuses Mrs. Gibson said was very important. She never did mention what box this was, but then maybe she was keeping that revelation for the next lesson.

He got up and tiptoed into his sister’s room. Crouching down and looking under Jodie’s bed was but the work of a moment. Much to his disappointment, he didn’t see any sign of the turtle that languished there, and now he wondered what she could have possibly done with the thing. As he started looking around, he became aware that his sister’s room was a lot cleaner than his. In fact, it wasn’t too much to say that Jodie was probably what Mrs. Gibson would call a neat freak—a topic she had discussed at length in a different lesson not that long ago. According to her, neat freaks took a good thing and gave it a bad reputation. It was obvious that keeping your room clean was a good thing, but taken to the extreme, it suddenly turned into a bad thing. How this was possible, Brian didn’t know, and he’d been afraid to ask, as Mrs. Gibson didn’t appreciate it when her students asked a bunch of questions. He also wondered where she drew the line between a regular neat person and an obsessive neat freak. But a hunch told him that Jodie had definitely crossed that line.

As he lifted a pillow, he found himself staring at a diary, and as he picked it up, he immediately recognized his sister’s flowery handwriting. Even though he wasn’t all that interested in what his sister entrusted to her diary—girls always made such a fuss over these things whereas boys knew it was just a load of nonsense—he still opened it and started to read. It wasn’t long before he became aware that not all was well in the World of Jodie Brocket. In fact, things were pretty rotten if these scribblings were to be believed.

But before he could get deeper into the matter, he heard the front door open and close and immediately tucked the diary back where he had found it and tiptoed out of the room.

His sister might not be the worst sister in the world—for one thing, she never ever called him bad names or even hit him over the head like some sisters of his friends at school reportedly did—but she probably wouldn’t like it if she found her brother leafing through her diary and reading her personal notes.

Returning to his room, he discovered that he had all but forgotten about Uncle Dave’s turtle. Gone was the urgency he had felt in connection to delivering to that man the turtle he had expressed a wish to accept. In its stead, thoughts of his sister’s predicament now loomed large and ominous. And since he was still Jodie’s brother, a new task emerged on the horizon: rescuing her from a fate that to him seemed worse than death.

And since he wasn’t an actual sleuth or even a caped crusader, like many of the superheroes he admired so much, all he could think was that he needed to enlist the assistance of someone who did have the necessary qualifications to deal with this type of life-and-death stuff. In other words, the one person he knew who could help him out.

CHAPTER 2

Ihad been soaking up a few rays when my attention was drawn by a loud lament seemingly coming from one of my friends nearby. When I looked up from my pleasant position on the lawn, I saw that it was, in fact, a small turtle uttering the lament. I was surprised to see the turtle, as I had never seen it before, and turtles are not a fixture in our home.

“Hey, little buddy,” I said, eager to establish that I didn’t pose a threat to the creature. I may not have met this particular turtle before, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to welcome it with open paws into our backyard, so to speak.

As I saw it, Odelia must have decided to gift her daughter the turtle as a present. A pet to call her own, in other words. Kids are always being taught about the different members of the animal kingdom at school, and Grace must have learned about the turtle from her teacher and decided that she wanted one for herself.

“This is an outrage,” the turtle muttered.

“What is?” I asked, curious as to why the turtle would be muttering these strange words.

“Why, the fact that they’re forcing me to do all this slave labor, of course,” said the turtle, and seemed to gesture to the house as it spoke these words.

I glanced up at the house, but since I didn’t see anyone who could possibly be responsible for imposing slave labor on a turtle, I was at a loss as to how to respond.

“They’re making you work hard, are they?” I asked.

“They sure are,” said the turtle. “Which is exactly why I decided to make a break for it.” He directed a sort of pleading look at me. “Can you help me find refuge, cat?”

“Max,” I said, deciding that maybe now was a good time to start on those introductions that are so essential in establishing good relations with a new acquaintance. “And what’s your name?” I asked when the turtle didn’t seem to be on the verge of being forthcoming with a name.

“Max,” said the turtle.

“Yes, that’s right,” I said. “My name is Max, and I live here. And what’s your name?”

“Max,” the turtle repeated.

I frowned. I don’t mind pets being obtuse, but it does pose a sort of barrier to furthering that essential sense of bonhomie I like to see in my associations with a new friend. “Yes, I think we’ve established that my name is Max,” I said. “But what I would like to know is your name, if you see what I mean.”

“Max,” the turtle said, like a record that was stuck. “Quite a coincidence, isn’t it? That we should both share the same name?”

I brightened. I finally saw it all. “Your name is Max also?” I asked, therefore.

“Yeah, though in actual fact it’s Maxwell the Third. My dad was Maxwell the Second and his dad⁠—”

“Maxwell the First?” I ventured.

He gave me an odd look. “How did you know?”

“Just a wild guess.”

“My friends all call me Max, though. Maxwell is such a mouthful, don’t you find?”

“I do,” I confirmed. “If I may ask: these people who make you work like a slave, who are they, exactly?”

“I’m not sure,” said the turtle. “The guy is named Ted, and he claims to be my owner, though it’s still not clear to me how that works, exactly. From a legal standpoint, I mean. As far as I can tell, it’s not legal to possess a person and call him your personal property. I mean, there must be laws about that sort of thing, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I said. “Though it’s also true that pets don’t exactly feature in these laws. The laws about not being allowed to own a person don’t apply to pets but to humans, as they’re the ones who make these laws.”

The turtle stared at me. “What are you saying, Max? That this Ted fellow is legally allowed to treat me as his personal property?”

“In a nutshell? Yes.”

The turtle shook his head. “I don’t think that’s fair, do you?”

“Fair or not fair, it’s the way things are, I’m afraid, Max.” I still found it a little strange to call another pet by my own name, but then I guess names are not exclusively assigned to one particular pet. Just as different humans can be called the same name, the same goes for us.

Dooley shot out through the pet flap and plopped down next to me. He was still licking his lips, which told me that he’d gone in for some refreshments and had found them. “Hey there, little buddy,” he said as he spotted the turtle. “You’re a turtle, aren’t you?”

“Excellent powers of observation, cat,” said the turtle with a touch of sarcasm. It was obvious that he wasn’t in the best of moods.

“Dooley,” said Dooley. “And what’s your name?”

“Max,” said the turtle.

Dooley stared at him, then at me. “Yes?”

“That’s my name,” said the turtle.

Dooley gawked for a moment, but then got the picture—and a whole lot quicker than I had, I have to say. “Your name is Max?”

“That’s right. Just like your large orange friend over there.”

“Blorange,” I muttered in an effort to rectify a common misconception.

“But…” Dooley looked from me to the turtle and back again. “But how is that possible?”

“Names aren’t the exclusive property of one single person, Dooley,” I explained.

“But you’re so different,” he said.

The turtle smiled. “You can say that again. In fact, we couldn’t be more different.” Then his smile vanished again. “So how about it, Max? Can you suggest a place for me to stay? It would have to be where I can lay low for a while and won’t be found by that horrible Ted.”

“You don’t like Ted?” asked Dooley.

But the turtle decided to ignore him. “Maybe you could put me up?” he said, giving me a pleading look. “Just until I can arrange things. The thing is that I kinda lost track of my brothers and sisters, so I don’t know where they are. That’s the trouble with these pet shops. They take you in wholesale and then sell off the different members of your family one by one. The upshot is that you all get separated and might not be able to find each other.”

“So… where are your brothers and sisters, you think?” asked Dooley, who seemed fascinated by this rare glimpse into the life of a species that we weren’t familiar with.

The turtle shrugged. “I have no idea where they are. They might be in Canada for all I know, or Mexico, having been taken across the border by the people they’ve been sold to.”

“Where is this pet shop that sold you located?” I asked.

“Why, here in Hampton Cove,” said Max. Then, anticipating my next question, “But that doesn’t mean anything. This place is visited by tourists all the time, and so one of them could have taken my sister Shirley, another my brother Lance, and another one still could have adopted my older brother Rhett and my two other sisters Ginger and Irene. Effectively splitting us up.” He sighed deeply. “They should institute a rule that if people want to adopt a turtle, they have to take us as a family—all or nothing.”

“Yeah, I can see how that must be frustrating,” I said.

“Frustrating! It’s a disgrace, that’s what it is.” Dooley suddenly emitted a giggle, and the turtle gave him a dirty look. “You think this is funny, do you, Dooley?”

“Oh, no!” said Dooley quickly, trying to suppress his mirth. “It’s just that—what are the odds that you would have the same name as Max?”

The turtle rolled his eyes. “Still harping on the same topic, I see.”

“You have to admit it is a big coincidence,” said my friend.

“I’m not admitting to any such thing,” said the turtle. He seemed out of sorts, which wasn’t surprising considering the fact that he might never see his brothers and sisters again.

“Okay, if you like, I will ask my human to put you up for the time being,” I said.

“And hide me from Terrible Ted?” he added hopefully.

“And hide you from Ted,” I agreed.

“Has Ted been very terrible to you?” asked Dooley.

“He has,” the turtle said curtly.

Dooley shook his head sadly. “Ted is an accountant. He’s used to working with numbers, not pets. He used to be awful to Rufus also. But I think he has learned his lesson after Rufus ran away from home once, and now he doesn’t treat him as badly anymore.”

“Rufus?” asked Max. “Who is Rufus?”

“Why, Ted’s dog, of course,” said Dooley. “He’s a good friend of ours,” he added. “Even though he is a dog, we all like him very much.”

The turtle frowned. “That’s the trouble with being kept in a shed, you see,” he said. “You aren’t allowed outside, and so I haven’t met any other members of Ted’s household. In fact, I didn’t even know that the guy had a dog.”

“What did Ted make you do?” I asked.

“Sit for him,” said the turtle.

“Sit for him? What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. I had to sit for him while he tried to capture my likeness in clay. I don’t know why, but he seems to have developed this obsession with trying to replicate the way I look in dead material. All I can say is it was a lot of hard work. Turtles hate to sit still for hours at a time, see. We like to move around, dynamic creatures that we are. Always up for some action—that’s the turtle way. But every time I moved, Ted expressed his displeasure and threatened to take away my food if I didn’t do as he said.”

“Oh, but that is terrible,” said Dooley, who hates it when his bowl is empty. “He can’t do that to you!”

“Like I said, it was pure torture. Which is why I escaped the first chance I got. And now I’m here, talking to you guys.” He darted a glance over his shoulder. “I just hope he won’t come looking for me. I’m pretty sure he won’t like it when he discovers me gone. He said I was an integral part of his plan.”

“What plan?” asked Dooley.

“Beats me. He didn’t think I was important enough to confide in. All I know is that I’m glad I got away, and I’ll never have to go back to spend time with that horrible man.”

Poor Ted, I thought. He’d probably hate it if he knew that his turtle was saying these awful things about him. But then I guess when you threaten to deprive a turtle of food if he doesn’t do as he’s told, you can expect some kind of backlash. So Ted only had himself to blame that Max would have escaped the shed where Ted kept him.

I could only imagine that this was the garden shed and that Ted had decided to use it for some experiment, the likes of which didn’t bear thinking about.

“Let’s get you into the house,” I suggested, “before Ted comes looking. We don’t want him to find you and drag you back to his shed to carry out these heinous experiments.”

The turtle looked extremely grateful as he followed us into the house through the pet flap. I felt a warm glow spread through my chest at the thought that I had saved this tiny creature from being worked to the bone by a Ted Trapper who had obviously gone berserk.

CHAPTER 3

Marc Oldoland was taking the mail out of the mailbox when he saw it—a dark van with tinted windows slowly cruising along the street. A deep frown puckered his brow. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen that van. As he tried to get a look at the driver, the reflection from the sun made it quite impossible to identify the person. He got the impression it was a man, and he was wearing a baseball cap, though it could just as well have been a woman.

“Not with me, you don’t,” he said, and hurried back into the house, where it didn’t take him long to retrieve his phone and step outside again. He was just in time to see the van turn the corner. He held up his phone and managed to snap a shot, and when he checked it, saw that he had managed to catch the license plate on the van.

Satisfied, he held the phone up to his ear. Moments later, he was in communication with Dolores Peltz, who manned the front desk at the police station.

“What is it this time, Marc?” asked the woman, not sounding all that happy to hear his voice.

“That van was back just now,” he said. “Cruising down the street, all suspicious-like, just like the last couple of times. And this time,” he said with a note of triumph in his voice, “I managed to snap a picture… of the license plate!”

There was silence on the other end, which wasn’t Dolores’s habit, and then her snappy response came. “Why don’t I connect you to one of our officers?” Without waiting for his response, she put him on hold, subjecting him to some of that horrible muzak the station used for this purpose. Impatiently, he tapped the phone against his chin, and when he heard a tired voice ask him to state his name and his business, he immediately launched into his spiel again. When he finished explaining to the person on the other end that he had quite possibly managed to catch a picture of a van driven by a couple of crooks intent on who knows what, the officer, whose name was Wilson, didn’t seem overly impressed.

“So you saw a van drive down the street, and you think they’re up to… what exactly?”

“How should I know?” he said. “You’re the police. You figure it out.”

“Sir, as far as I know, it’s still not illegal to drive along the street in a van.”

“But it’s got tinted windows! Now if that ain’t suspicious, I don’t know what is!”

The officer sighed deeply. “Was the windshield tinted, sir, or the front side windows?”

“Well… no. Or maybe a little. I couldn’t get a good look at the driver, though.”

“Then they didn’t do anything wrong. The windshield and front side windows of a vehicle operated in the State of New York cannot block more than thirty percent of the light. Seventy percent of the light must pass through. In your estimation, was that the case, sir?”

“Why… yeah—I guess. But it’s the way he drove, see? All slow like, as if they were looking for something. Probably casing a house or houses. Probably they’re part of a gang of burglars and they’re going to break in one of these nights.”

“And you know this how, exactly?” asked the cop, who was not the brightest bulb in the shed as far as Marc was concerned.

“Why, common sense!” he cried. “Look, I’ve got the license plate right here. I managed to snap a shot of it just as it disappeared around the corner. Can I read it to you? You can look it up in that database of yours. I’ll bet it’s connected to all kinds of illegal activities.”

“I’m afraid we don’t give out that kind of information to the public, Mr. Oldoland,” said the cop.

“I didn’t mean you have to give me his name and address,” he said. “But you can look it up and then arrest the people involved, can’t you? Be proactive for a change?”

“I’m afraid…”

At this, Marc got so worked up that he promptly tapped the big red button on the screen and ended the conversation. “No use,” he muttered under his breath as he scrolled through his list of phone numbers. “No use whatsoever.” It didn’t take him long to find the number he was looking for, and so he pressed it. When the familiar voice answered, he perked up a great deal. It was obvious to him now that he should have called Vesta Muffin in the first place instead of wasting his breath on that useless and incompetent police force they had in this town—all paid for with his precious tax dollars, no less.

“Yeah, Vesta,” he said. “Marc Oldoland. I just got off the phone with the police, and they’re refusing to take me seriously. I hope you’ve got more sense.”

Vesta listened patiently for him to finish his story, then said, “Can you send me that picture? I’ll take a look if you want.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re going to hit my block one of these nights. They’ve been casing it for days now. And the cops aren’t doing anything. On the contrary, they’re feeding me all this stuff about privacy laws and it not being illegal to drive a van. But it’s the way these people are driving their van, Vesta. You can see that, can’t you?” he added hopefully.

“Absolutely,” said Vesta, much to his relief. “It’s exactly this kind of thing we should be seeing more of, Marc. Community spirit, you know. People like you reporting suspicious activities are what crime prevention is all about. And if the police can’t see that, it means we’ll just have to do it ourselves, like the responsible and concerned citizens that we are.”

“Oh, thank God there are people like you active in our community,” he said, and meant every word. “Otherwise we’d all be sunk!”

“Just send me that picture and I’ll see what I can do,” she promised.

“Can you have it checked by the cops?”

“Absolutely,” she said, and that didn’t surprise him one bit. After all, her son was chief of police, her granddaughter was married to a cop, and Vesta was in charge of the watch.

“I want in on this,” he said.

“What did you just say?”

“I said I want in on this. This is my block, Vesta. I’ve lived here all my life. And if these thugs are going to target me or my neighbors, I want to do my bit to help protect us from these crooks. So if you’re going on patrol tonight, I want to ride with you guys. At least,” he added cautiously, “if you think that’s a good idea.”

He didn’t know how Vesta ran her neighborhood watch, but he’d heard stories, and those stories said that she ruled the watch with an iron fist. But that didn’t bother him. He had been robbed in the past, and he was prepared to follow Vesta’s lead if it prevented that kind of thing from ever happening again, either to him or one of his neighbors.

“Sure you can ride with us,” she said, much to his surprise. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, but he was glad she had said yes. “I’ll pick you up at ten,” she told him.

“Can… can Rafi also come?” he asked.

“Who’s Rafi?”

“My Chihuahua,” he said. “I don’t like to leave him alone in the house. He gets scared when I’m not there.”

“Oh, all right. The more the merrier. I just hope Rafi doesn’t have a thing against cats.”

And with these mysterious words, she hung up. Then he remembered that Vesta often patrolled with her cats in the car. She seemed to think they were a great help in fighting crime. Or maybe she just liked the company. Patrolling probably got tedious after a while.

As he returned to the house, he wondered if he shouldn’t install one of those alarm systems that scare off intruders. But since his budget didn’t stretch that far, he’d have to do it himself with a kit he picked up at the hardware store. He wasn’t sure it would be sufficient, but since it was all he could afford, it would have to do.

And so he grabbed Rafi from the couch and moments later was on his way into town to pay a visit to Franklin Beaver, the fellow who ran the hardware store, hoping Franklin could instruct him on how to install the deterrent to end all deterrents. If these people thought they could target him a second time in a row, they had another thing coming!

CHAPTER 4

Afun birthday party sounded like a great idea! Jodie was already struggling to contain her glee when she realized that she wasn’t invited. Lacey had invited all the different members of her squad but had purposely neglected to include her former best friend.

Jodie stared at her friend but saw that the latter was blithely ignoring her, a smirk twitching on her lips.

The girls were in class, waiting for Mrs. Fennelly to return and hand out their assignments for the coming week. It was the moment Lacey had chosen to launch her bombshell idea: the birthday bash to end all bashes. And since the party would be held at Lacey’s house, an invitation was like Willy Wonka’s golden ticket. Lacey’s parents were seriously loaded, and if memory served, they always made sure that their daughter’s guests were treated like kings and queens. There would be chocolate fountains, a popcorn bar, laser tag, an escape room, karaoke, a scavenger hunt, and maybe even a famous pop star who would give a private concert. No expenses spared!

And now Jodie wasn’t even invited!

She sagged in her seat and watched as Mrs. Fennelly entered the room, her arms laden with stacks of paper, and started doling out their assignments one by one. To know that the girls would have the weekend of their lives and she would be slaving over this tedious assignment was the thing that sealed her sense of gloom. As she accepted the piece of paper, she simply tucked it into her backpack without much ado, hoping against hope that it had been a simple oversight on Lacey’s part and that she would soon remember that she hadn’t yet invited her best friend, Jodie, to her party.

Though the term was probably ex-best friend, with the emphasis on ex.

Ever since the two friends fell out about a month ago, Lacey hadn’t so much as offered a word of apology for her appalling behavior, and the two former besties practically hadn’t spoken.

It was a terrible upheaval and possibly the worst thing that had ever happened to Jodie, who was shy and soft-spoken compared with Lacey’s brash and outspoken personality. Other friends often wondered how two girls with such different and opposing characters could be friends, and she had often wondered the same thing. And yet they had been friends since kindergarten and had been close until a month ago.

Now, though, it seemed that Lacey had decided to become her worst enemy. It had started when Jodie found a banana smudged between the pages of her favorite book, and then, of course, that long string of strange messages she had received, each one nastier than the last. She couldn’t help but think that Lacey was behind those, as well as the banana incident. And to top it all off, someone had poured a can of Fanta into her backpack, the sticky stuff covering everything: all of her notebooks and textbooks, and even her phone. Though Mom said the phone could be rescued, and so could the rest of her stuff.

It was still a terrible thing to do, and she wondered when the next blow would come.

Now she knew.

No more birthday parties for her.

And to think that rumor had it Lacey’s millionaire dad had actually invited Taylor Swift, and the famous singer had said yes!

This was without a doubt the absolute worst week of her life!

As Mrs. Fennelly droned on and on about the Himalayas and the people who lived there, she wished she was one of them. Life in the Himalayas was probably a lot better than life in Hampton Cove as a former member of Lacey’s posse. Not only was she no longer friends with Lacey, but all her former friends had been part of the posse and had excluded her from their circle as well. The only friend she had left was the one girl who didn’t give a fig about Lacey and her clique. But since Jodie wasn’t all that excited about being friends with Maddison Jerry either, she didn’t think this was much of a consolation at all.

Lunchtime had arrived, and as all the girls got up and headed for the door, she hung back, not feeling like getting the cold shoulder treatment again. The only other girl who also hung back, more out of habit than because she had a grudge against anyone, was Maddison.

The girl, dressed in black from head to toe and even sporting a few tattoos that no one was supposed to know about—especially not the teachers—gave her a grin. “Looking forward to the birthday party with Taylor Swift?”

“I’m not invited,” Jodie said as she got up and shoved her stuff into her backpack.

“Still being cast out into the desert, huh?”

“Yeah, looks like it.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you,” said Maddison. She had remarkable golden eyes, and if she would only be more selective about what she wore, she could have been the most gorgeous girl in class. But instead, she was the most slovenly, which often made Jodie wonder if she did it on purpose or if she simply didn’t know how beautiful she really was.

Lacey had often said that Maddison simply didn’t have the money to afford decent clothes, so maybe that was also a factor. Lacey had often felt threatened by Maddison, especially in the first weeks when Maddison had arrived at school, but had soon realized that the girl had no intention of challenging Lacey’s leadership role and decided that she didn’t need to bother with her at all. From that moment on, Lacey had simply ignored Maddison, and oddly enough, that hadn’t bothered the girl in the slightest.

“It’s going to be a great party,” she said. “Half the school will be there.”

“It’s just a party, Jodie,” said Maddison, proving how little she knew.

“It’s only going to be the party of the year,” said Jodie. “The biggest social event.”

“Like I said, it’s just a party,” said Maddison with a shrug. “And besides, I’ve never been invited to any of these things, and I’m fine.”

Jodie glanced at the girl and wondered why that was. How can you be fine when you’re habitually being excluded from the most important and exclusive club in school? When you’re a social pariah? She had only lived under the new regime for a month and already felt as if her life was over.

“Hey, wanna hang out with me instead?” asked Maddison.

“To do what?” asked Jodie, who had absolutely no desire to hang out with the girl.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said her classmate. “Watch some TV, go to the mall, feed my horse.”

She looked up sharply. “You have a horse?”

“Sure. If you want, you can ride her.” She gave her a sideways glance. “You do ride?”

“Um…” Jodie didn’t want to admit it, but the last and only time she had been on the back of a horse, it had kicked her off and she had made quite the tumble. As a consequence, she was afraid of horses—or at least of riding them. “Of course I can ride,” she said quickly, not wanting to admit she was less capable than Maddison. That would be the worst. If there was an official title of lamest girl in school, that honor was definitely reserved for Maddison, and Jodie did not envy her the social stigma that went along with the label.

“Drop by the house,” said Maddison. “I’ll text you the address. We’ll go riding and groom the horses. It’ll be fun.” She gave a shrug. “A lot more fun than Lacey’s stupid party.”

Jodie grimaced in response. “Thanks.”

Oh, God, she thought. Please kill me now!

CHAPTER 5

“Marc Oldoland is riding with us tonight,” said Vesta.

Her friend Scarlett looked up in surprise. “You’ve recruited a new member for the watch?”

“Not exactly.” Vesta tucked away her phone. “He says he’s been seeing suspicious activity on his street lately and wants to make sure no houses are burgled. So he asked the watch to get involved since the police won’t believe him.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s fine if he rides with us this one time. I mean, we’ve had tourists before.”

“I guess,” said Scarlett, though she didn’t look entirely on board with the idea.

The two friends were enjoying their usual refreshments and assorted pastries at the Star Hotel’s outdoor dining area, practicing their favorite hobby of gossiping and doing some people-watching.

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?” asked Vesta.

“No, it’s just that…” Scarlett hesitated. “Well, you know what happened last time we involved Marc in one of our activities, right?”

Vesta shook her head. “I don’t recall. What happened?”

“He tried to seduce me!”

Vesta laughed. “Oh, honey. If we had to exclude every man who tries to seduce you, we’d have to exclude half the male population of Hampton Cove. Or even all of them!”

“He wouldn’t take no for an answer, even when I told him that he wasn’t my type. Just kept asking me out on a date. Finally, I had to block his number on my phone and cross the street every time I saw him. It took a while, but in the end I think he got the message.”

“I’m sure he won’t try again this time,” said Vesta. “He sounded very worried about this mysterious van he saw, so the last thing on his mind will be to ask you out again.”

“I hope so. I don’t need that kind of drama in my life.” She picked up her flat white with chocolate sprinkles on top and took a dainty sip, while Vesta took a sip from her hot chocolate. Even though it was a warm day, they still stuck to their favorite and trusty beverages. Why change up a good thing just because the temperatures are soaring?

“He wants to bring his dog along, so I told him I hope he likes cats. He didn’t seem to catch my drift.”

Scarlett laughed. “He must be the last person in Hampton Cove who doesn’t know that you’re the ultimate cat lady.”

“I’m not the ultimate cat lady,” said Vesta.

“Oh, honey. You are. Who else do you know that can actually talk to their cats?”

“Well, I can think of at least three other people.”

“That are not members of your family.”

Vesta’s mouth closed with a click of her dentures. “Okay, fine. You win. I don’t know anyone else, though I have a feeling that the men in our family are getting there. Last night, Chase actually seemed to understand something Max said to him. Max told him that Grace is getting really big, and Chase said, ‘I know, right?’” She raised her eyebrow. “Shows you that he’s starting to understand the cats.”

“Could be just a coincidence,” said Scarlett. “Inference, you know. Context providing him with the answer.”

“Yeah, I guess,” said Vesta. She glanced around. “Where are the cats, by the way? Mostly they can be found traipsing all over Hampton Cove at this time of the day, collecting snippets of information for Odelia’s articles. And now they’re nowhere to be found.”

“It’s too hot,” said Scarlett, picking up a menu and using it to fan herself.

“Maybe we should go inside,” Vesta suggested. They could sit under the air conditioner, which was on full blast and would cool them off pretty quickly. Unlike Scarlett, though, Vesta wasn’t bothered by the heat at all. Probably because she was so thin. She had read somewhere that thin people suffer less from the heat than the more voluptuous of the species, though she couldn’t be sure if this was factual or just a figment of the article writer’s imagination.

“I hope this is not the start of a crime wave,” she told her friend. “The last thing Hampton Cove needs right now is for a couple of thugs to start wreaking havoc and causing trouble.”

The streets of their small town were filled with tourists milling about, the beaches were full of people, and the local business community was ecstatic at the opportunity to finally make some serious moolah. Not all that long ago, there had been a shark scare that had driven some of the tourists away, and even though the threat had passed, it had struck fear into the hearts of Hampton Covians that people would avoid their lovely town in favor of the more famous ones in the vicinity. So far, that hadn’t happened.

“Did Marc call it in?” asked Scarlett.

“He did, and they basically told him to take a hike.”

Scarlett shook her head. “Typical. Good thing there’s the neighborhood watch to pick up the slack, or this town would go to hell in a handbasket.”

“Exactly the way I feel about it,” said Vesta and held up her hot cocoa, clinking it against her friend’s cup before taking another sip. She had once read that on a hot day, you should drink a hot beverage rather than an ice-cold drink. But since she didn’t like ice-cold drinks, that was a no-brainer for her.

As she glanced in the direction of the street, she thought she saw a familiar face. It was that old friend of Francis Reilly’s. The man had done a stretch in prison and, after being released, had joined Francis’s after-prison rehabilitation program. He’d quickly taken a shine to the priest and had been instrumental in doing odd jobs around the church and the rectory, something that Francis appreciated very much.

“Isn’t that Benny Dowd over there?” asked Scarlett.

Vesta nodded. “He seems to be in a hurry.”

“I hope he hasn’t returned to his old life of crime,” said Scarlett. “Francis did tell us that Benny has a habit of being tempted by the dark side.”

“I’m sure Francis keeps him on the straight and narrow. He has that effect on people.”

Father Francis Reilly had a big heart and ran a number of social programs that benefited people like Benny greatly, and the ex-con appreciated it to such an extent that he hadn’t ‘sinned’ ever since the priest had taken him under his wing.

Just then, there was a loud scream that cut through Vesta like a knife. It came from somewhere over her and Scarlett’s heads, and as they looked up, suddenly a heavy object came tearing through the creme-colored awning that protected the guests of the Star Hotel from the blazing sun. The object landed with a dull thud on top of a table, which collapsed under the impact, the guests seated at the table jumping back in shock.

When Vesta and Scarlett approached to take a closer look, they saw, to their surprise, that the object was a body. As the person, who was lying on his back, looked up at them, he gurgled a few words that were hard to understand.

Vesta immediately got down on her hands and knees and brought her ear closer to the man’s lips.

“Tell them… Figurine did it,” he muttered.

She waited for him to say more, but when she studied his face, she saw that a spasm of some kind made him contort his face into a grimace of pain. He balled his fists for a moment, then relaxed and went completely still.

“Call an ambulance!” she called out.

She felt for a pulse, even though she could tell that it was probably to no avail.

The man was dead.

CHAPTER 6

We had just installed Max at the house and shown him around when Odelia came storming through the kitchen door and pulled up short when she caught sight of the tiny turtle.

“Is that… a turtle?” she asked, even though her eyesight is fine as far as I am aware.

“This is Max,” I said proudly. “He’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“We saved him from a terrible fate at the hands of Ted Trapper,” Dooley added for good measure.

Odelia closed her eyes and shook her head, causing her fair hair to dance around her fine-boned features for a moment. She then brought her hands to her face and seemed to be in the throes of some deep emotion.

“I’m sure that Ted didn’t mean any harm,” Dooley hurried to say when he realized that our words had caused such a strong reaction in Odelia.

“There’s been an incident,” said Odelia curtly. “I need you both to come with me. Now,” she said, in a tone that brooked no contest.

“What about Max?” asked Dooley.

“He’ll also have to come,” said Odelia as she headed back to the kitchen door.

“I’m not sure I’m up to it,” said Max. “I mean, I hope you don’t mind, but I’d much rather stay here for the moment. If I head out there again, chances are that Ted might see me and make a grab for me.”

“He’s right, Max,” said Dooley. He turned to Odelia. “Max would much rather stay here, Odelia. He’s afraid that Ted will see him and make a grab for him.”

Odelia still seemed to be in a sort of disturbed state of mind. “What?” she said.

I then realized that she was laboring under the misapprehension that the Max Dooley was referring to was me, and not the turtle. And since I didn’t immediately see how to remedy this problem, I decided to go with my gut. “What do you say if we christen you Max Two from now on, Max? And I’ll be Max One?”

The turtle made a face. “Why can’t I be Max One and you be Max Two?”

“No, you’re right, of course,” I said, realizing my error. “Okay, so you’ll be Max One and I’ll be Max Two from now on. Is that all right with you?”

“Max is absolutely right, Max,” said Dooley. “The guest is always king, so Max should be Max One and you should be Max Two. What do you say, Max? And you, Max?”

I blinked. “Like I said, it’s fine with me.” I turned to Odelia. “Okay, so here’s the thing. Max One, that’s Max over there, doesn’t want to leave the house, figuring it’s not safe for him, with Ted lurking around. But I, Max Two, am more than happy to accompany you.”

Odelia stared at me for a moment, then pointed to the door and said, “Max and Dooley. In the car. Now.” Clearly she didn’t have the bandwidth at that particular moment, or even the headspace, to deal with these complexities that life tends to bring.

And so we hurried out the door in the wake of our human, while Max One, as he would henceforth be known, stayed put.

“We’ll be back in a jiffy!” I told the turtle, who didn’t seem all that happy to be left to his own devices so soon after having arrived. I could understand where he was coming from, of course. I wouldn’t like it if my new hosts suddenly decided to tear off after what, to him, must have seemed like a very irate Odelia. After all the trouble we had gone through to build our human up in his estimation, she had wiped out this carefully constructed image of the perfect pet parent by acting all strange and weird.

“What’s going on?” I asked as we trotted after her.

“Where are Harriet and Brutus?” she asked.

“Um, next door, most probably,” I said.

“I think I saw them disappear into the rose bushes,” said Dooley.

Odelia didn’t wait for confirmation but bellowed, “Harriet! Brutus! With me—now, please!”

To my not inconsiderable surprise, the two of them came hurrying out from underneath the rose bushes and joined us.

“I thought you were next door?” I said.

“We were having a cuddle and a snuggle,” said Harriet with a slight grin.

“While you were busy with that turtle,” Brutus added.

“What has gotten into you, Max, to invite turtles into our home?” asked Harriet. “I mean, you never know with these turtles. He could be a mass murderer for all we know.”

“He’s a turtle, Harriet,” I said. “Turtles as a species are not exactly known to be particularly dangerous.”

“No, I guess not,” she said. She giggled again and directed a loving glance at her boyfriend. While we were busy saving a turtle from a fate worse than death, she and Brutus had obviously been having a very enjoyable time in those rose bushes.

“What’s going on with Odelia?” asked Brutus. “She seems cranky.”

“She’s very cranky,” I confirmed.

“Could be that she’s not feeling well,” Dooley offered. “Humans often have that, you know. They have some aches and pains and that makes them feel cranky, and they take it out on their loved ones. Or their cats.”

“I like to think that we are Odelia’s loved ones,” said Harriet. “Even though we are also her cats.”

Odelia opened the car door and we all obediently hopped into the backseat. Moments later, we were mobile and she was setting a pretty fast pace in the direction of town.

“What’s going on?” asked Harriet.

“A man has fallen out of his window at the Star Hotel,” said Odelia curtly as she steered the pickup truck with a practiced hand through traffic.

“Are you feeling all right, Odelia?” asked Dooley, not so much worried about the man who fell from a window but more so about our human.

“I’m fine,” she snapped. Then she sighed. “I’m sorry, Dooley. I didn’t mean to bite your nose off. The truth is that trouble is brewing at the Gazette, and I’m not sure how to deal with it.”

“What trouble?” I asked.

She rubbed her forehead, which was furrowed, I noticed. This is never a good sign, as humans don’t like to furrow their brows, fearing they might never get them to un-furrow and that it might lead to premature wrinkling—something no human seems to enjoy.

“Circulation numbers are down, and subscription numbers are too, so Dan called a meeting. He said he’s not sure if he can keep things going if nothing changes.”

“Keep things going?” asked Dooley. “You mean…”

“He might have to pull the plug, putting us both out of work. And since working for the Gazette is all I’ve ever done and all I know, that’s not a prospect I look forward to.”

“But can’t you make those numbers go up again?” asked Harriet.

“How?” asked Odelia. “If people don’t want to buy the paper, there’s not much we can do about it.”

“Maybe you should try some promotion?” I suggested.

“Dan has tried all of that. Promotions work to some extent, but not enough. He’s going to try and change up the content a little, maybe focus more on celebrity stories, which seem to interest people a great deal. But if that doesn’t work, it just might be the end.”

“Oh, Odelia!” I said with feeling. “That’s terrible!”

“Yeah, it’s not a fun prospect,” she agreed. But then she rallied. “But until that happens, I’ve decided to keep giving the paper my all. So let’s do this story and make the most of it, agreed?”

“Agreed,” I said emphatically. “What do you want us to do?”

“Oh, the usual. Find out what happened. I’ll get you into the hotel so you can try to find out what went on in the minutes before the man fell from his balcony. Chase tells me he had a pet of some kind, so if you could talk to him or her, that would be a great help.”

“Did he fall, or was he pushed?” I asked.

“Or did he jump?” asked Brutus.

“It’s all up in the air for now,” said Odelia, and she wasn’t even joking.

CHAPTER 7

“We have to do something, you guys,” said Harriet as we rode the elevator up to the third floor. “We have to make sure the Gazette doesn’t go out of business.”

“Let’s focus on this case first,” Odelia suggested.

Chase looked up. “What are they saying?”

“They’re worried about me being out of a job,” said Odelia.

“You told them about your meeting with Dan?”

“I did, yeah. They could sense that I was upset about something.”

The cop smiled. “You know, maybe that’s one of the things I like most about your cats. They can sense when you’re not okay. It’s so sweet.” He looked down at me for some reason, then raised his voice, possibly figuring I might be hard of hearing. “You don’t have to worry about Odelia, Max. She’ll be just fine!”

“Max Two,” Dooley supplied helpfully. “Max has changed his name, you see.”

“He has?” asked Brutus. “But why?”

“The turtle,” I said. “He’s also called Max. And so to avoid confusion, we’ve decided that I will be Max Two from now on and he will be Max One.”

Brutus stared at me, then a slow grin spread across his furry face. He placed a paw on my shoulder. “I want you to know that you will always be Max One for me, Max.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, shrugging off his paw. “It’s only for the time being, until he decides to move on.”

“They’re very emotional, aren’t they?” said Chase. “About this Gazette business?”

“They are,” said Odelia.

Chase cleared his throat and raised his voice again as he addressed me. “Like I said, you don’t have to worry about Odelia’s future, Max.”

“Max Two,” Dooley repeated helpfully.

“If the Gazette folds, I’m sure that Alec will be able to arrange for her to get a position on the force.”

Odelia frowned. “I’m not so sure he would do that, babe.”

“And I’m sure that he would. And you want to know why? Because I asked him, and he said yes.”

She stared at her husband. “You asked Uncle Alec about a job for me?”

“And he said yes!” he cried, a happy smile on his face. “Isn’t that great?”

“But I’m not a cop.”

“You’ll be a civilian consultant, only full-time.”

“What if I don’t want to be a full-time consultant? I mean, I like what I do for a living. I like being a reporter and talking to all kinds of people.”

“It’s only in case you get canned by Dan.”

“I won’t get canned by Dan. The paper might fold, but he’ll never fire me.”

But before Chase could respond, the elevator jerked to a stop, a sign that we had arrived at our destination, and we all got out.

“I hope Odelia gets to keep being a reporter,” said Dooley. “She likes it so much it would be a shame if she has to stop doing it.”

“She could apply for a job at a different paper,” I suggested. “There’s also the Happy Bays Gazette over in Happy Bays.”

“That’s probably an even smaller outfit than the Hampton Cove Gazette,” said Brutus. “These local papers are all going extinct, as people get their news mostly online these days and don’t like to pay for it.”

“There has to be a model that can support Odelia in the lifestyle to which she has become accustomed,” said Dooley, causing us all to give him a look of surprise. “There has to be!” he added.

“I’m sure Dan will do whatever it takes to save the paper,” I said. “He’s a cunning and skilled operator, and he’ll have a couple of tricks up his sleeve before he calls it quits.”

We had traversed the corridor and arrived at a door where a police officer stood guard. Odelia and Chase headed in, and so did we. The room was small but clean and neat, and immediately our eyes were drawn to the window, which was open. There was a balcony beyond it, so we decided to take a look. Glancing down from the balcony, I saw that Odelia hadn’t lied: there was a hole in the awning that covered that part of the dining area, and through the hole, we could see the body of a man. He was lying on his back, looking straight up at us with unseeing eyes.

“Oh, dear,” said Harriet. “I believe that man is dead.”

“Yeah, I believe you’re right,” said Brutus.

The four of us moved away from the precipice, afraid that we might suffer the same fate as that unfortunate man, and then went in search of the pet that the man had brought to the hotel, as per Odelia’s instructions.

Unfortunately for us, we didn’t find a sign of this pet. No dog, no cat, no bird…

“Hey, you guys,” suddenly a voice rang out near us. “What’s going on? Nobody tells me anything.”

We all looked up and saw that the voice belonged to… a turtle. It was located inside a turtle cage and didn’t look at all happy with its state of affairs.

“Hey there,” I said. “My name is Max, and these are my friends Dooley, Harriet, and Brutus.”

“I’m Shirley,” said the turtle. “So tell me. What’s all the fuss about? I mean, first Leon takes a breather on the balcony, and then all of a sudden, it’s as if all hell breaks loose. People coming and going—and now you guys. So what gives, huh?”

I saw that there was no other recourse but to tell the turtle that her human had unfortunately met his maker, and so I opened my mouth to deliver this message when Dooley beat me to it.

“Your human wouldn’t by any chance be wearing bright pink Bermuda shorts, would he? And a flowery shirt?”

“Yeah, that’s Leon,” said Shirley. “It’s his standard outfit. Why? Have you seen him?”

“He seems to have decided to take a leap,” said Dooley, “from the balcony. Unfortunately, he hadn’t calculated the distance very well, and since humans aren’t made to jump from great heights, he didn’t make it.”

Shirley smiled. “He didn’t make it? You mean, like, he’s dead or something?”

“Yes, that’s what seems to have happened,” I said.

“Ha,” she said, a big smile spreading across her face. “Ha ha! Ha ha ha!”

It was a strange response, and one I immediately put down to the shock of finding out that her human had died.

“Ha ha ha ha ha!” she laughed loudly, throwing her head back and expressing her mirth with abandon.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Brutus murmured dutifully, though it didn’t seem that Shirley felt the same way.

“Don’t be,” she said. “It’s not a great loss, I can assure you.”

“Must be the shock,” Harriet told us. “Shock has a different effect on different persons.”

“Oh, but I don’t feel shocked at all,” said Shirley. “In fact, I feel relieved!”

“You… didn’t like your human?” asked Dooley carefully. He had taken a few steps back, as if afraid the turtle’s moment of madness might be contagious.

“He wasn’t my human,” said Shirley. “He bought me at the pet store a couple of days ago and has made my life a misery ever since. I miss my family, you see, and it hasn’t been a lot of fun being cooped up in this tiny cage in this dreadful room with that awful man.”

Suddenly, I was reminded of our conversation with Max—though I should probably say Max One. “You wouldn’t happen to have a brother named Max, would you?” I asked.

She stared at me for a moment before crying, “You met my brother?!”

“We did,” I said. “He’s staying at our house right now.”

“He fled the man who bought him,” Dooley explained, perhaps a little indiscreetly, “who turned him into a slave and did something with clay to him that he didn’t like.”

“I think what Max meant was that Ted used him as a model,” I explained.

Shirley shivered. “What a horrible fate!”

“Ted locked him up in his shed,” said Dooley, trying to convey the full horror of Shirley’s brother’s story. “And then he told him to sit still while he did these clay things.”

Shirley cried, “What a freak!”

“What did your human do?” asked Brutus.

“He took lots and lots of pictures of me,” said Shirley, “from every possible angle—he even took pictures of my butt, if you can imagine!” She shivered violently. “And then he fed those pictures into that machine over there. What can I say? The man was a freak!”

We all looked in the direction she was pointing, and I saw that there was some kind of bulky printer set up on a side table next to a laptop.

“One man likes to make sculptures of turtles, and the other man takes pictures,” said Brutus. “I don’t know which is worse.”

I decided that these preliminaries had lasted long enough, and so I asked the question Odelia would be hoping to get answered. “Did you see what happened to Leon, Shirley?”

She shook her head. “All I know is that he went out onto the balcony, and didn’t come back.”

“Was he alone on that balcony?” I asked, studying the turtle closely for any signs of subterfuge.

“No, there was another person with him,” said Shirley.

“And who was this person?” I asked.

“Never seen her before.”

“So it was a woman?”

“It was. And a pretty woman, too. Though like I said, I had never seen her before.”

“But Leon knew her?”

“He must have, for he let her into the room and then took her out onto that balcony. Moments later, she returned, but Leon didn’t, and so I figured he liked it out there so much that he decided to stick around for a while. But then those cops showed up, and then you guys, and now you tell me that he jumped down from the balcony.”

“Jumped?” asked Brutus with a keen look at the turtle. “Or was he pushed by that woman?”

Shirley thought about this possibility. “It’s true that they had some kind of argument, but I’m not sure if she pushed him. I mean, the guy had me locked up in a cage, you guys, so my field of vision is pretty limited and didn’t cover the balcony. And also, Leon was a really big guy, so I’m not sure a woman would be able to shove him off that balcony.”

“What did she look like, this woman?” I asked.

“What did they talk about, she and Leon?” asked Brutus.

“Did they fight before they headed out onto that balcony?” asked Harriet.

“Did she also like to take pictures of turtles?” asked Dooley.

Shirley laughed. “Hold on, you guys. One question at a time! Okay, Max—she was an average-sized woman. Average height. Average build. I thought she was pretty. Brutus—he showed her something on his computer, and then they headed out onto the balcony. Harriet—I got the impression they were talking business. She was clutching some document and he didn’t like it. Not sure what it was all about, as they took the conversation outside.”

“And did she also like turtles?” asked Dooley.

Shirley smiled. “I think she did, because before she left, she grabbed a bag full of turtles and took them with her.”

We all gasped in shock. “She took a bag full of turtles?” asked Brutus, who has a particular fondness for turtles, owing to the fact that he once rescued a bunch of them.

“Well, not real turtles, of course,” she said. “Plastic ones. Lots and lots of them.”

“Leon had plastic turtles?” I asked.

“Sure. He made them in that machine over there. And all of them looked exactly like me.” She simpered a little. “Only not as pretty, of course. You can’t beat the real thing.”

CHAPTER 8

When we conveyed all this information to Odelia, she seemed extremely interested in what we had to say. She darted an occasional glance at Shirley, and when we told her that she was the sister of Max One, our new house guest, she seemed to take pity on the little turtle and suggested that she take her under her wing for now.

“What do you say, Shirley?” asked Harriet. “Do you want to stay with us for the time being? Until we can find you a new home?”

“You’ll be reunited with your brother Max,” Brutus added, making sure to put this unique selling proposition front and center.

Shirley nodded. “I think that’s very kind of you… Odelia? Is that your name?”

“It is,” I confirmed. And so we gave Odelia the go-ahead. She carefully picked up the little turtle’s box and when Chase glanced in her direction, she explained, “We’re adopting her. For now.”

The cop may have found this a little peculiar, but long association with Odelia must have taught him that resistance was futile, and so he merely smiled. “Looks like we’ve just adopted ourselves a turtle,” he said.

Gran and Scarlett now walked in and glanced around. “We’ve got some very important information to share,” Gran told her granddaughter. She frowned at Shirley. “Is that a turtle?”

“It is,” Odelia said. “Shirley belonged to Leon, but now that he’s gone we’ve decided to take her under our wing for the moment. Until we can find a new home for her.”

“Huh,” said Gran, then focused on her story. “As you probably know by now, the guy dropped down right in front of us. And in fact, I was right there when he spoke his final words.”

Chase had also joined us and was eager to learn about these last words. “What did he say?”

Gran puffed up her chest to lend some more importance to her next statement. “Tell them… Figurine did it.”

Odelia stared at Gran, Chase stared at Odelia, and the four of us stared at one another. Even Shirley was mesmerized by these mysterious last words of her human—even though he had only been her human for a very short time.

“What does that even mean?” asked Chase finally. “Who’s Figurine?”

“A figurine is not a person,” said Scarlett, “but an object. Like a small statuette of some kind?”

“Maybe he was referring to the figurines he was producing of Shirley?” I suggested. “The ones that the perpetrator took with her when she left the hotel room?”

“What figurines are these?” asked Gran.

“Leon Coutts was in the habit of taking pictures of Shirley and then feeding them to his 3D printer,” Odelia explained. “And creating small turtle figurines that way.”

“What did he do with these figurines?” asked Scarlett. “Or was this some kind of hobby?” Her words had been directed at me, and so I turned to Shirley, our main source of information on all things Leon Coutts.

“He sold them,” she said. “Or at least that was the impression I got. He had a big exhibition coming up in some local art gallery and he was hoping to sell lots and lots of his turtles.” She sighed. “I know I should have been proud that he was using me as his model and muse, but I’ve been missing my family so much I couldn’t really be bothered with all of that. Fame and fortune only mean so much when you have been ripped from the bosom of your family, you know.”

“Of course,” I said. “Absolutely. And I’m so sorry for your plight, Shirley.”

“Thanks, Max Two,” she said with a grateful smile. “You’re very kind.”

After I had relayed the information to Odelia, she discussed this with her husband and grandmother.

“Odd,” said Gran, “that he would blame his death on a plastic turtle.” She bent down and picked a small object up from the floor. It was a figurine made in Shirley’s likeness and had most probably escaped the woman’s attention when she gathered up Leon’s haul.

It was very bright and colorful and looked really neat, I thought, as an ornament to brighten up the home.

“These look really nice,” said Chase as he held out a plastic baggie to Gran.

Dutifully she dropped the turtle into the bag, and for a moment we all studied it intently.

“So Leon thought that this led to his death, huh?” said Chase. He scratched his scalp. “I don’t see it. I really don’t.”

“Maybe he meant that the person who killed him was after these figurines?” Scarlett suggested.

“Possible,” said the detective. “But they’re just plastic turtles. I don’t see the appeal.”

“Oh, but I think they’re really nicely done,” said Scarlett. “I wouldn’t mind putting them on display in my home. A couple of these would do much to liven up the place.”

“They’re cute,” the detective conceded. “But are they also valuable? I mean, anyone can print these on his 3D printer, so why murder a man to get your hands on them?”

“It’s a valid question,” Odelia confirmed. “And one we should find an answer to.”

“Oh, and one other thing,” said Gran. “Moments before this man fell to his death, we saw Benny Dowd. Now it may be nothing, and it probably is nothing, but considering the man’s criminal record, I thought you’d want to look into it.”

“Thanks, Vesta,” said Chase. “We will.”

“This was right before Leon Coutts fell from his balcony?” asked Odelia.

“Yeah, so he couldn’t have been the one to give Mr. Coutts the final push. But it still seems like a big coincidence that he would be in the vicinity when it happened.”

The crime scene people had arrived, and so it was time for us to leave the room so they could have a closer look and go through the entire place with a fine-tooth comb. And since there was a secondary crime scene to inspect, we all made our way downstairs, where Mr. Coutts had met his maker. As it was, there wasn’t a whole lot to see. The area had been cordoned off, and remnants of glasses and plates were still on tables, a testament to the lively scene that had been playing out just before the man had interrupted all of that.

Abe Cornwall, the county medical examiner, was busy investigating the dead man, who lay on top of the remnants of a table and looked very much the worse for wear.

“Well, he’s dead all right,” said the medical man as he got up.

“He fell from a balcony,” Chase informed him.

“Yeah, that should do the trick,” said the frizzy-haired medical examiner as he looked up. “What floor?”

“Um, third floor,” said the detective.

“The odd thing is that his fall was broken by this awning,” said Abe as he rubbed his chin.

“What are you saying?” asked Odelia.

“Yeah, what are you saying, Abe?” asked Gran.

“I’m saying that I can’t be one hundred percent sure as to the cause of death. Not until I have a good old rummage in the man’s innards.”

Odelia made a face, and so did Scarlett.

“That’s no way to speak of the dead, Abe,” said the latter.

The medical examiner smiled. “I promise I’ll do my rummaging in the most respectful way possible, Scarlett. And when I’m through, I’ll be able to say with more conviction how this man died.”

The notion that Leon Coutts’s fall wasn’t responsible for his death was certainly a novel one to all of us, and so for a moment, we were all speechless. But then Gran said, “He died right in front of me, and I can tell you that it was quite a big smash, Abe.”

“That may very well be the case, Vesta,” said the doctor. “But that still doesn’t rule out the possibility that something else contributed to his demise. But like I said, I first want to take a closer look before I commit myself.” He gave them all a breezy salute. “Cheerio, one and all.” And then he was off, but not before telling his people that they could tuck the late Mr. Coutts into a body bag and transfer him to the medical examiner’s office in Hauppauge for further inspection and dissection.

CHAPTER 9

As we all stood convening on the sidewalk and discussing the case of the man who fell from the balcony—or was pushed—or had jumped—a little boy suddenly walked up to us and addressed Odelia.

“Are you Odelia Kingsley?” he asked with a touch of timidity.

“I am,” she confirmed. “And who are you?”

“I’m Brian Brocket,” he said, “and I want to hire you.”

Odelia laughed. “You want to hire me? What for, exactly?”

“To protect my sister,” he said.

Odelia exchanged a smile with Chase, who decided to enter the conversation, even though his name wasn’t Odelia Kingsley. “What does your sister need protection for, champ?” he asked.

“She’s being bullied,” said the little boy. “But please don’t tell her I hired you. She doesn’t know I know, and if she did, she would be very cross with me.”

“How do you know your sister is being bullied?” asked Odelia.

“I read it in her diary,” said the kid, causing us all to smile in response.

“You know that reading a person’s diary is not such a great idea, right?” said Odelia.

“I know, but I was looking for my turtle, and instead, I found her diary, and it just fell open on the page, and before I could stop myself, my eyes had already read part of it,” he said, in a very earnest way that could only make us feel for the poor kid and his sister.

“Maybe you should talk to your parents?” Odelia suggested.

“They won’t be able to help,” said Brian.

“And why is that?”

“Because my sister wrote in her diary she doesn’t want them to know. She’s too ashamed to admit she’s being bullied. So now I want to hire you so you can be my sister’s bodyguard and make sure this bully doesn’t bother her anymore. Can you do that?”

“Well, I’m not exactly a bodyguard,” said Odelia.

The kid held up an envelope. “This is all I have saved. There’s fifteen dollars and sixty cents in there and a Spider-Man action figure. Will that be enough to hire you?”

Odelia accepted the envelope and checked its contents. “I think that should be more than enough. But seeing as I think you’re a very brave boy and an amazing brother, I will take this case for free.” She handed him back his envelope, and it was obvious this was the last thing he had expected. His eyes shone. “So you will take the case?”

“I will take the case,” she said. “Though I have to tell you right now I will stop short of actually going to school with your sister and acting as her bodyguard in class by sitting next to her during lessons. First, because that’s probably not allowed. And second, because there must be other ways of making sure that she’s not bullied anymore.” She crouched down so she was at eye level with the kid. “Where does your sister go to school, Brian?”

“Same school I go to,” he said. “Garden Grove. Only she’s in high school and I’m only in elementary school. So I can’t protect her since I’m too short to fight this bully. And also, I’m not in the same building, or the same playground.” He made a face. “So that’s a problem.”

“Who is the bully?” asked Odelia.

“Her name is Lacey Dowling, and her parents are very rich. She used to be my sister’s best friend, but now they’re enemies, and Lacey put a banana in my sister’s notebook and squished it together. That was a very bad thing to do.”

“Yes, that’s not very nice of Lacey,” Odelia agreed. “What else did she do?”

“She poured a bottle of Fanta into Jodie’s backpack, making everything wet and sticky.”

Odelia made a face. “I know I’d hate it if somebody did that to me.”

“She also sent Jodie horrible messages and made videos that made her look stupid.”

“And all of that was in her diary, huh?”

The kid nodded. “I know I shouldn’t have read it, but I think it’s important that bullies are punished, and this bully hasn’t been punished, so I’m hiring you to do the punishing, considering Jodie doesn’t want anyone to know. So this is like a top-secret mission.”

“You’re absolutely right,” said Chase. “Bullies have to be punished. But first, we will have to talk to your sister and your parents.”

The kid made a face. “Oh, do you have to? Jodie isn’t going to like that. And also, she’ll find out that I’ve been reading her diary. She will probably start bullying me!”

“I’m sure she won’t,” said Odelia. “And we won’t tell her that you read all of this in her diary, all right? That will be our little secret.”

From the boy’s expression of elation, it was clear this was a load off his mind. “Oh, that’s exactly what I want. Jodie will be so happy when this bullying stops.”

“We’ll try to make sure that your sister isn’t bullied again. How does that sound?”

“That sounds wonderful,” said the boy, clasping his hands together. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Kingsley.”

“You’re welcome, Brian.”

He then darted a nervous glance at Chase. “Are you a superhero, Mr. Kingsley?”

Chase laughed. “No, I’m just a detective. Do you know what a detective is?”

The kid’s eyes were sparkling. “Oh, do I! I love detectives! They’re so brave and strong and clever.”

“How did you happen to find me?” asked Odelia.

“I always read your stories about Max,” said the kid. “And how you are always finding clues and catching the bad guys. And so I knew that the only person who would be able to save my sister is you.” He then darted a glance down at me. “Is that… Max?”

“That is Max, yes,” said Odelia.

“Can I touch him?”

“You can pet him,” Odelia said. “But very gently, all right? Pet his head. He likes that.”

I gave her a dirty look. The last thing I need is for some kid to put his sticky fingers all over me. But since it was for a good cause, I figured I might as well allow it—just this one time. “I like you, Max,” said the kid as he patted me awkwardly. “I think you’re the greatest detective. And I hope you will use that big head of yours to stop my sister’s bully.”

“Well, I’ll certainly do my best,” I said, not sure if I should be insulted or pleased with his crack about my big head. I now wondered about the things that Odelia wrote about me and if they often referred to the size of my noggin.

But since dealing with a bully is more important than my wounded pride, I decided to put any possible hurt feelings aside for now.

As the kid hurried off again, pleased as punch that he had secured the assistance of not one detective but three, I wondered how we had gone from having no cases to deal with to having to handle two in the space of half an hour.

It was certainly shaping up to be a busy day!

CHAPTER 10

Vesta didn’t like to admit it, but she felt spooked by the whole incident with the man falling from the balcony. By the same token, he could have fallen right on top of her—or anyone else seated in that dining area.

“You do realize this could have been much, much worse,” she told her friend as they walked away from the scene. “That Leon Coutts guy could have fallen on top of another person and squashed them like a bug. He could have fallen on you or me!”

“I know,” said Scarlett. “It doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?”

And yet thinking about it was all she could do. It’s one thing for a crime to be committed and another for it to happen right under your nose. And then the man had breathed his last words and had selected her as its recipient. It was a huge responsibility, and so she had decided that she needed to get to the bottom of this figurine business.

“It’s fate, you know, that he chose me to whisper those final words to. And so I feel that I should do something with this.”

“What can we do?” asked Scarlett. “It’s in the hands of the police now.”

“Oh, poppycock. Leon Coutts chose me to solve this crime, and so solve it I will.”

“Are you sure we’re quite capable of handling such an important investigation? I mean, we don’t have access to the kind of resources that Chase and Odelia have.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” said Vesta. “Detective work is all about those little gray cells, my dear,” she said, tapping her noggin. “And I have plenty of those, and so do you. If we put our heads together, I’m sure we’ll crack this case.”

“What do you think he meant by this whole figurine business?”

“The turtles, of course,” said Vesta. “The person who tipped him over the edge must have been after those plastic turtles.”

“How do we know he was tipped over the edge? For all we know it could have been an accident that sent him plummeting to his death.”

“Not likely,” said Vesta. “Otherwise, the person who was with him on that balcony would have come forward by now. And since she fled the scene of the crime, that tells us that she doesn’t have a clear conscience. Plus, she stole the man’s turtles.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s a clear sign that she isn’t on the up and up.”

“I say we pay a visit to that art gallery and find out what kind of business Leon Coutts was involved in.”

“Ooh, I love a nice art exhibition,” said Scarlett as she clapped her hands. “And I thought those turtles looked extremely nice. If I could get my hands on them for a good price, I’d jump at the chance.”

Vesta smiled. “Yeah, they didn’t look too shabby. Very cheerful. And if it’s true that they were modeled after Shirley, we’ll have the model in our home from now on.”

Scarlett gave her an odd look. “You’re not thinking what I’m thinking you’re thinking, right?”

“That depends on what you think I’m thinking.”

“I’m thinking that you’re thinking to start creating those turtles yourself and selling them.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking! I mean, if there’s money to be made with those turtles, we should use this unique opportunity to get in on the action.”

“I don’t know, honey,” said Scarlett as she shook her head. “A man was possibly murdered over these turtles. Who’s to say that we won’t be next if we start messing around with them?”

“Let’s check out that art gallery first,” she suggested. “And then we can talk about muscling into the turtle business. And if you’re right, and it is too dangerous, we will back out.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It is.”

“It’s just that I have a family now, you know.”

“You don’t have a family.”

“I do! I have Clarice to think about.”

She was about to say that cats aren’t family, but of course they were. And so she patted her friend on the back. “You’re absolutely right. You do have a responsibility towards Clarice now, and so you should take good care of yourself and not get mixed up in all kinds of shady stuff. How is Clarice, by the way? We haven’t seen her in a while.”

“I’m a little worried about her, to tell you the truth. She spends most of her time on the couch these days.”

“I find that very hard to believe. She was always so active.”

“Not now. She’s also putting on a lot of weight.”

“Impossible. Not Clarice.”

“Since she stopped being so active and started eating more, she has gained a couple of pounds. I’m even thinking about putting her on a diet. Though I’m afraid of how she will react. You know that she can be quite… determined when she doesn’t get what she wants.”

“Maybe I should ask Max to have a chat with her? Convince her that it’s not a good idea to become a couch potato?”

“Oh, can you do that? Maybe she will listen to him. She has always had a lot of respect for Max.”

“Consider it done. And now let’s pay a visit to that art gallery and find out what all this turtle figurine business is really about.”

Much to her dismay, the moment they arrived at the art gallery, who would be entering but her granddaughter Odelia and her husband Chase?

“Gah,” she told Scarlett. “Looks like they beat us to the punch!”

CHAPTER 11

While Chase’s officers worked hard to collect statements from all the people who might have information about Leon Coutts, Odelia and Chase decided to pay a visit to the art gallery where the man was supposed to showcase his collection of plastic turtles. It was only a short walk from the hotel, and then they could cross that off their list.

The gallery’s window display showcased some of the work they had for sale, and a lot of it was as colorful as the turtles that Mr. Coutts had created.

“You know, I’m not a big fan of modern art,” said Chase as he pointed to a very colorful old bicycle, “but this, I really like.” The bike had been spray-painted in all the different colors of the rainbow and was the kind of bike you could ride at night without any lights as it was so noticeable it could probably be spotted from space.

“I don’t think it’s a functioning bike,” said Odelia. “For one thing, it has no brakes.”

“I’m not sure the idea is to ride it, babe,” said Chase, “but to hang on your wall.”

Odelia made a face. “Now why would anyone want to hang a bicycle on their wall? That seems silly.”

“It’s art, babe!” said Chase, getting excited now. “Just like those turtles.”

“The turtles, I like,” said Odelia. “But the rest of this stuff? Not so much.”

“Looks like they’ll have to agree to disagree,” said Brutus with a wink.

“I like it,” said Harriet. “It’s very cheerful. Art as an antidepressant. Exactly what the world needs.”

“It is extremely cheerful,” I agreed. “I wonder if they have colorful cats as well as turtles.”

“Plastic cats!” said Harriet. “Now there’s something that will sell like hotcakes! I mean, people love cats, right? And so they will adore plastic cats they can use as ornaments.”

Brutus made a face. “A little icky to me. As if you create a human being in plastic and put him on display in your living room.”

“I’m sure there’s a market for that kind of stuff,” I said.

We hurried after Odelia and Chase as they entered the art gallery, and when I glanced back, I saw that Gran and Scarlett were watching us intently. Gran’s expression told me she wasn’t happy to see us, and I understood that she had probably had the same idea we had.

“Looks like Gran is running a parallel investigation again,” I told the others.

“She shouldn’t do that,” said Harriet immediately. “We should all work together, not compete. That way, we stand more of a chance to find out what happened to that poor Mr. Coutts.”

“He probably died for his art,” said Dooley solemnly. “And he will be remembered by the world for his sacrifice.”

The person in charge of the art gallery was a young woman with long red hair, dressed in stylish black from head to toe. Her welcoming smile vanished the moment Chase produced his badge and introduced himself. “Leon Coutts? Yes, of course I know who he is.”

“I’m sorry to say that there’s been an incident,” said Odelia.

“An incident?” asked the woman, whose name was Mona Wooley. “What incident?”

“He fell from his balcony,” said Chase, seeing no qualms about revealing the circumstances of Mr. Coutts’s death. “Unfortunately, he didn’t survive.”

The woman’s eyes went wide as she brought her perfectly painted black fingernails to her face. “Leon… is dead?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Odelia. “We understand he was holding an exhibition at your gallery?”

The woman seemed taken aback by the news that the artist had died and needed a few moments to collect herself. To this end, she closed the gallery temporarily by flipping the closed sign and locking the door. Outside, Gran and Scarlett, who had been on the verge of entering, found themselves thwarted in their endeavor, and I could see from Gran’s face that this didn’t sit well with her. Odelia and Chase, oblivious to the presence of the two old ladies, followed Miss Wooley into her office, where she proceeded to pour herself a cup of coffee from a coffee maker and offered the same to the two visitors. Chase declined, but Odelia gratefully accepted a cup of the invigorating brew. She has always been a coffee nut and would never turn down the offer to enjoy more of the stuff.

Miss Wooley took a seat behind her desk, still undone over the tragic demise of the turtle maker. “He was such a talented man,” she said. “Amazingly talented. And successful, of course. It was a real coup for us to have him agree to stage his work with us.”

“He was successful at what he did?” asked Odelia.

“Very much so. Leon Coutts is one of the most popular young artists of the last decade. His work sells like hotcakes.”

“The… turtles?” asked Chase, much surprised by this piece of news.

“Absolutely. His turtles have become household names, and you can see them in any shape or form in a lot of places. The ones that are sold through his website are the cheap ones he mass-produces, but he also made bigger ones, all handmade, and those he sold for quite a lot of money. It’s that collection he was going to display with us. Though I hope the exhibition will still go through.” She frowned. “Have you spoken to his business partner?”

“No, who is that?” asked Chase, taking out his notebook.

“Randal Dowling. He isn’t an artist but takes care of the business side of things. Leon was the creative genius, of course, but like a lot of artists, he wasn’t comfortable with the commercial aspects that a successful career requires. That’s where Mr. Dowling came in.”

“He’s local, isn’t he?” asked Chase.

“That’s correct. Leon always said that the real secret behind his success was Randal. He couldn’t do what he did without him. But I guess that can be said about many great artists.”

“Mr. Coutts was visited by a woman this morning,” said Odelia. “She took his collection of turtles and left with them. You wouldn’t have any idea who this person could be?”

“We need to have a word with her,” Chase explained.

Miss Wooley shook her head slowly. “I can’t say that this rings any bells. What did this woman look like?”

“We don’t have a clear description at the moment,” said Odelia.

“It’s a little vague,” said Mrs. Wooley. “Though I can tell you that the news that Leon was in town caused a lot of people to get extremely excited. He was one of the most famous and popular young artists, and his presence created a real frenzy. Our socials blew up from the moment we started posting about him and his work. Thousands of views, easily. And even that is only a fraction of the number of views his own posts habitually garner.”

“You make him sound like a rock star,” said Odelia with a smile.

“That’s exactly what he is—or was. Leon Coutts was the rock star of the art world. And now he’s gone. It’s so sad.” Then she blinked. “Wait, did you just say that this person—this woman—took off with all of Leon’s work?”

“That’s right. We only found one turtle at the scene.”

“This is a disaster. How many were stolen?”

“We have no way of knowing,” said Odelia. “But dozens, most likely.”

“Leon told me only yesterday that he was gearing up to create more of his trademark turtles. Though he liked to call them Plurtles—a contraction of plastic and turtles. He said he wanted to have enough stock so that any visitor to the exhibit could pick one up for a small price. Every single one of them would be personally signed by the artist.”

“You don’t recall any particular incident connected to these Plurges or to Mr. Coutts personally?” asked Chase.

“Plurtles,” Miss Wooley corrected him. She thought for a moment. “I guess Leon’s business partner will probably be the best person to ask, but I recall that Leon seemed particularly unnerved by some comments that were made online recently.”

“Can you remember what comments he was referring to?”

She puckered her brow and finally shook her head. “I didn’t personally witness them, but he said there was a person out there claiming Leon wasn’t the original creator of the Plurtles. Accused him of copyright infringement. He said he was getting a lawyer involved, as it was detrimental to his reputation, which he had carefully cultivated over the years.”

“We’ll check Mr. Coutts’s socials,” said Odelia.

“One thing isn’t clear to me,” said Miss Wooley. “You said Leon fell from his balcony?”

“That’s correct.”

“Are the police always this interested in an accident?” Her gaze shifted from Odelia and Chase, and I could tell that this woman was nobody’s fool. “Or is there something more sinister going on here that you haven’t told me about?”

“The problem is that we don’t know what happened when Mr. Coutts was out on his balcony,” said Chase. “All we know is that he wasn’t alone. The person who subsequently stole his collection of Plurtles was with him. So in the absence of a witness, we’re treating his death as suspicious.”

“I see,” said Mrs. Wooley. “So what you’re really saying is that Leon… was murdered?”

“What we’re saying is that at this point in the investigation, we don’t know,” said Odelia.

“God,” said Miss Wooley as she leaned back in her chair. “This is a lot worse than I thought.”

“Can you give us the contact details for Mr. Coutts’s business partner?” asked Odelia, and he jotted down the man’s details when she gave them.

By the time she let us out of the gallery again, we hadn’t learned a great deal more, except that Leon Coutts had been some kind of hot young artist and that his Plurtles were flying off the shelves. It certainly was a solid motive for murder.

The moment we stepped out of the gallery, we came face to face with Gran and Scarlett, who must have waited patiently for us to reemerge.

“And? What did you find out?” asked Odelia’s grandmother.

Chase smiled. “As far as I know, you’re not involved in this investigation, Vesta, except as a witness.”

“Oh, don’t be that way, Chase,” she said. “You know that Scarlett and I can be a real boon to your investigation. Seasoned neighborhood watch members that we are.”

“Yeah, let us help you, Chase,” said Scarlett. “It’s the least we can do after we saw that poor man fall to his death.”

Chase wavered. And I could see why. Uncle Alec doesn’t like it when his mom and her friend get involved in police investigations. On the other hand, it is true that Gran and Scarlett have been instrumental in solving many cases in the past. So finally, he relented. “Okay, but keep this on the down-low, all right? In other words: don’t tell my boss.”

“Are you nuts? I’d never do that,” said Gran eagerly. “So what’s all this about the guy collecting plastic turtles?”

“He didn’t collect them,” said Odelia. “He created them. And he was extremely successful at it. Sold thousands of the things. Or possibly even millions.”

“So the turtle thingies sold really well, did they?”

“He called them Splurgles,” said Dooley.

“Not Splurgles, Blurtles,” said Brutus.

“I think it’s Murtles,” said Harriet.

“Plurtles,” I said. “A contraction of plastic and turtles. Plurtles, not Splurgles or Murtles or Blurtles.”

“Fine, whatever,” said Brutus.

“I wouldn’t mind having some of those items in my living room,” said Scarlett. “I think they’re really cute.”

“Clarice might not like them,” said Gran. “Cats are notoriously jealous whenever strange creatures enter the home.”

“These are plastic creatures, hon,” said Scarlett. “I’m sure that Clarice would be fine with them.”

“That reminds me,” said Gran, addressing me this time. “Could you guys look in on Clarice when you have a chance? Scarlett tells me that she hasn’t been feeling well.”

“That’s not what I said. She’s feeling fine. Just that she’s been overindulging in food and hasn’t been very active lately. Turning into a real couch potato, you know.”

“It’s true that we haven’t seen her around as much lately,” I said.

“She hasn’t been to cat choir,” said Harriet. “Even though she has a lovely singing voice. Not as lovely as mine, obviously—nobody has. But serviceable.”

“We’ll pay her a visit,” I promised.

“And try to make her eat less,” said Gran. “Go on a diet, you know. Scarlett has been trying, but Clarice is a hard nut to crack. But seeing as she looks up to you, Max, she might listen to what you have to say on the subject.”

“Clarice? Look up to me? I wish!” I said.

“No, but it’s true that she appreciates your point of view, Max,” said Harriet.

“Talk to her,” Gran said.

“I will,” I said.

I couldn’t imagine Clarice overeating. It didn’t seem like her. Then again, if Scarlett said that she had turned into a couch potato, there must be some truth to the matter.

CHAPTER 12

Brian was so happy that he had hired Odelia Kingsley that he ran all the way home. Especially the fact that Mrs. Kingsley had promised not to reveal to Jodie that he had read those pages in her diary was a great relief. He had been worried sick that his sister would find out and be furious. Jodie was extremely fussy about that diary of hers. One time, Mom had snapped it up and had been leafing through it when Jodie had come upon her and had actually screamed the whole house down. Ever since that incident, she had put a lock on her diary. It was only by happenstance that it would have been unlocked when Brian found it under her pillow. Probably she had been writing in it and hadn’t bothered to lock it again.

He desperately wanted all this bullying to stop and for his sister to be her old self again. Since the friendship between her and that horrible Lacey Dowling had ended, she had been downcast and preoccupied, a sort of gloom settling over her that Brian didn’t like to see.

That’s why it was such a surprise to him when he arrived home and found his sister in her room… accompanied by another girl. This was a girl he had never seen. She was raven-haired, had a tattoo on her upper arm, and a stud in her nose, which was pretty funky.

The moment Jodie became aware of her little brother, she quickly slammed the door shut. But when Brian put his ear to the door, he could hear her laughing and talking in there, and it was such a relief that he could have skipped with joy. Maybe he didn’t have to hire Odelia. Maybe things would somehow end up being fine all by themselves. Maybe this new girl would become his sister’s best friend and Lacey a thing of the past.

He certainly hoped so.

He went downstairs and found that his mom was in the kitchen and his dad in the backyard. On the kitchen counter was a plastic turtle of a very colorful design: vivid blue, bright red, and also yellow and purple. It wasn’t bad to look at, though of course he would have preferred a real live turtle instead. Or even more than one. Turtles had fascinated him for the longest time, ever since he had become obsessed with dinosaurs. But since dinosaurs didn’t exist anymore, turtles were the next best thing in his estimation. The main benefit that he could see was that they were tiny, so you could keep them in your room, something he didn’t think would be possible with a tyrannosaurus. He had been nagging his parents to get him a turtle for the longest time. Unfortunately, they weren’t big proponents of the idea and had held off on it for the time being. Until he was a little older and more responsible, or so they had explained to him on numerous occasions.

“Go and help your dad in the garden,” Mom suggested.

As he made his way through the kitchen, he asked, “Who is the new girl with Jodie?”

“Oh, that’s Maddison. She’s in her class.”

“What about Lacey?”

Mom’s face clouded. “She’s not your sister’s friend anymore, buddy.”

“She wasn’t nice to Jodie, was she?”

Mom seemed surprised that he was aware of this. “No, she wasn’t. How did you know? Have the kids at school been talking?”

“No, I just happened to hear about it,” he said casually. Darn it. Now he had pretty much revealed his big secret. He was surprised that Mom knew about Lacey, though, since according to Jodie’s diary she hadn’t told her. Obviously Mom had found out. He should have known. Mom was one of those people who always found out everything. She probably had X-ray vision and super hearing and all of those superpowers parents have.

Mom stood with her hands on her hips. “Spill the beans, Brian. Who told you that Lacey hasn’t been nice to your sister?”

He glanced in the direction of the door and lowered his voice. “Please don’t tell Jodie.”

Mom seemed amused by this, if her smile was any indication. “I can’t make any promises until you tell me what you heard and where you heard it.”

“I didn’t hear it,” he said, almost whispering now. “I read it. In Jodie’s diary.”

Mom’s smile vanished without a trace. “You’ve been reading your sister’s diary?”

“It was an accident, I swear! I had been looking for the turtle I made for her since I didn’t have time to make Uncle Dave a new one, and I wanted to give him the one I made for Jodie. Since she doesn’t play with it, she wouldn’t miss it if I gave it to Uncle Dave.”

“Clever thinking,” said Mom. “And?”

“And I didn’t find the turtle, but I found her diary. It wasn’t locked, and I just happened to read a passage. Something about Lacey bullying her and putting a banana in her textbook, and spreading nasty messages and videos on TikTok and all of that.”

Mom’s face had taken on a serious expression. “You shouldn’t have read that,” she said. But Brian could sense that she wasn’t really upset with him, but more upset about the whole bullying situation, which proved to him that Mom did know. Of course she did.

“I won’t do it again,” he promised. He wondered if he should reveal his other big secret: that he had hired an actual detective to help Jodie deal with the awful bully, and that he didn’t even have to pay her. But then he decided against it. Mom wouldn’t like it. She wouldn’t appreciate that Brian had revealed Jodie’s big secret to an outsider.

“Okay, go and help your dad,” said Mom, steering him in the direction of the backyard.

He would have much preferred to work on his turtles. They might not be as nice and colorful as the one on the kitchen counter, but they weren’t that bad either. They had a pretty big backyard, and Mom always said that Dad couldn’t take care of it all by himself and needed their help. So he presented himself to his dad and asked if there was anything he could do. Dad seemed really pleased by the offer and told him to dig a couple of holes where he would plant some of the new shrubs he had bought at the garden center.

And so, five minutes later, he was busy digging while his dad was busy planting.

CHAPTER 13

Since Odelia and Chase were coordinating the police investigation at the hotel, and Gran and Scarlett needed to visit a man named Marc Oldoland, who had applied to join the watch, the four of us decided to check in on Clarice. If it was true that things were as bad as Scarlett had said, it was a matter of some urgency to make sure our friend was all right.

“I find it very hard to believe that Clarice has gained so much weight, but if she has, it won’t do any favors for her vocal cords,” said Harriet, the expert. “She has never been a hugely talented singer to begin with, and this is only going to hurt her even more.”

“I thought you said her voice was serviceable?” I said.

“I didn’t want to cast aspersions on her in front of Gran and Odelia,” said Harriet. “But I fear for Clarice’s future with the choir. I really do. Shanille only wants the best of the best.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” said Brutus. “She still keeps Max around, even though he can’t carry a tune.”

“She keeps Max around because he’s her friend,” said Harriet, who can be a little harsh when she wants to be, as can Brutus. “Not because she likes his singing voice.”

“Also, she has asked me to sing very quietly,” I said. “So I don’t throw the others off their tune.”

Brutus grinned at this. “I’d totally forgotten about that!”

“I think you have a lovely singing voice, Max,” said Dooley. “And I think Shanille does keep you around because of your musical contribution to the choir.”

“Thank you, Dooley,” I said. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

“But not necessarily true,” Harriet added.

We had arrived at the apartment complex where Scarlett lives with Clarice and looked up at the second floor. The balcony can easily be reached by climbing the tree that is conveniently placed next to the building. Though I’m not sure that is such a great idea, as burglars might get the same idea. Then again, with Clarice as a guard cat, no burglar in their right mind would dare enter the apartment where that formidable cat has taken up residence. She would tear them limb from limb, and they might not even escape with their lives—definitely not with their dubious dignity intact.

“You know,” said Dooley, “it might be the other way around, Harriet.”

“What might be the other way around, Dooley?” asked Harriet.

“Well, the fact that Clarice has gotten a lot bigger might improve her voice instead of making it worse.”

“Dooley is right. Adding a little grease to those vocal cords might improve Clarice’s voice,” said Brutus. “A lot of the famous opera singers are people with a certain heft, and it doesn’t seem to have done them any harm.”

Harriet frowned. “Are you telling me I should gain weight to improve my singing even more? If so, just come out and say it, snickerdoodle. Don’t beat around the bush.”

“All I’m saying is that gaining weight doesn’t necessarily have to have a detrimental effect on one’s singing,” he clarified.

“Mh,” said Harriet, and I could see this had given her some food for thought, as she refrained from making any more comments until we had climbed the tree and made our way up to the second floor. Landing on Scarlett’s balcony, we made our way to the pet flap. I fully expected Clarice to pop out and confront us, but instead, nothing happened, which should have told me that something truly was amiss with our old friend.

Entering the apartment, I searched around and finally saw it. Clarice was lying on the couch, as Scarlett had indicated, and was watching something on television. It was the Nickelodeon network, where a show was playing about cats chasing dogs or vice versa. On the couch lay Clarice, and it was exactly as Scarlett had said: she had indeed gained a certain amount of pounds, mostly settled around her midsection, which seemed bloated.

Harriet stared at the formerly feral cat and voiced what we were all thinking: “Oh. My. God!”

Clarice lazily looked up at the sight of us. “Oh, hey, you guys,” she said. “Jump up. Take a seat. There’s plenty of food to go around.”

Dooley immediately took her up on her invitation by hopping on the couch and taking a position next to her. “What are you watching?” he asked.

“Oh, something about cats and dogs—not sure what it’s about but it sure is fun.”

I shared a look of concern with Brutus and Harriet, and it was clear that Scarlett hadn’t been exaggerating when she told us that not all was well with our friend.

“Jeez,” said Brutus under his breath.

“Hop on, Max,” said Clarice. “This is the good life, isn’t it? Watching TV with friends and sharing a meal.” She smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it as good as I have it now.”

We accepted her invitation and joined her and Dooley on the couch.

“Are you sure you aren’t exaggerating a little with the food?” I asked.

She shrugged. “There’s no such thing as too much of a good thing, Max.” She gave me a prod in the belly. “And you’re the living proof of that.”

“It’s true that Max is on the hefty side,” said Brutus. When I gave him a warning glance, he quickly added, “But that’s not because he eats too much, but because he has big bones. Isn’t that right, bud?”

“That’s exactly right,” I said. “My whole family is the same way. We all have very heavy bone structures, which makes us look big and heavy, while in actual fact we’re nothing of the kind. We are big, yes, but not overweight, if you see what I mean.”

“Mh,” said Clarice as she dug a piece of kibble from between her teeth. “Whatever you say, Max.”

“So what have you been up to, Clarice?” asked Dooley.

“Oh, this and that,” she said vaguely.

“We haven’t seen you at cat choir lately,” said Harriet. “Why is that?”

“Cat choir? Oh, I see what you mean.” She thought for a moment. “I’m not sure,” she finally admitted. “It’s just that by the time I get up in the morning it’s already quite late, and I have so many things to do that I don’t seem to get around to joining you guys for cat choir. Why, have you missed me?”

“Absolutely,” I said before Harriet could launch into her theory that Clarice’s voice wasn’t up to snuff. “Everybody has been talking about how much they miss you, and they all want you to come out and sing with us again.”

“Aww. That’s very sweet of you to say, Max,” she said as she yawned and stretched. “But as you can see, I’m so busy these days that I can’t seem to find the time to squeeze you guys in. But I’ll see what I can do, all right? Maybe next week—or next month.”

“What about chasing mice?” asked Brutus. “Or a nice fat rat?”

Clarice made a face. “Who wants to eat rats when you have an all-you-can-eat buffet right here at home?”

“You once told me that it was important to keep your paw in,” I said. “You know, so you don’t lose those important hunting skills?”

“I may have said that, but clearly I didn’t mean it. Look, life is short, you guys, and it’s important that we enjoy it to the max. And what purpose does it serve to chase a bunch of ugly critters all around Hampton Cove? None whatsoever. I say live and let live. In fact, you might say that’s my new motto. And to think I’ve caused so much sorrow and misery to entire families of those critters. I should have known better. And now I do.” She gestured to one of her bowls, filled to the rim. “Dig in. Scarlett likes to keep them topped up.”

“She doesn’t tell you to use restraint?” asked Brutus.

“Now why would she go and do a silly thing like that? Scarlett loves me, and so she wants only what’s best for me. And what I need right now is plenty of food to keep me going.” She slapped her belly. “A body like this doesn’t keep itself in shape, you know. I need to feed it plenty of calories to make sure it keeps ticking over.” She smiled. “Like I said, I seem to have won the lottery, and I plan to make full use of the opportunity.”

“But… don’t you feel that you’re not getting enough exercise?” I asked.

Brutus grinned at this, and I could see where he was coming from. As someone who’s very much averse to exercise, I was probably not the best proponent of the idea. But since Scarlett had appointed me Clarice’s savior, I did what I had to do, even if I didn’t fully endorse my own statements. Then again, even I could see that things were quickly going downhill with Clarice.

“Look, Max,” said our friend. “You know I love you guys, but you don’t get to tell me how to live my life, all right? So just kick back and relax, and let’s all have a party!”

“Yes, let’s party!” said Dooley.

Oh, boy. It looked like this might be a tougher nut to crack than I had anticipated!

CHAPTER 14

In spite of my so-called big head, it doesn’t often happen that I get a stellar idea, but I’m happy to say that I got one at that moment. As I wondered how to get Clarice off that couch and back in shape, I suddenly flashed on the cases we were involved in. I didn’t think she would be overly interested in discovering who may have been instrumental in the death of a maker of plastic turtles, but I did think she might be struck by the story of a young girl and her classroom bully. As it turned out, she listened with vivid attention as we outlined the story to her, as had been relayed to us by the girl’s little brother, and at the end of our exposé, there were even tears in the hardened cat’s eyes.

“Oh, but that’s terrible,” she said. “Who can do such a truly dreadful thing?”

“Apparently it has been going on for a while,” I said. “Ever since the bully decided that she didn’t want to be friends with Jodie anymore.”

“Something needs to be done about this, Max,” she said determinedly. “Are you taking control of the situation?”

“Well, Brian asked Odelia’s help, and she has promised to do what she can. Though it’s not easy, as she can’t really interfere. It’s all very delicate, as you can understand, as there are kids involved, and also the parents of those kids.”

“But we can’t let this situation continue!” Clarice practically shouted. “We have to put a stop to this! Now!”

I could see that she was more alive and more alert than she had been before, and thought this was a good sign.

“What do you suggest?” I asked, wondering if perhaps she had any possible ideas on how to remedy this situation.

“Show me this bully and I will scratch her eyes out,” she said.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I said.

“Okay, then show me this bully and I’ll bite her nose off. That will make her think twice about treating her former best friend like that.”

“Um… maybe you have some other idea that doesn’t involve physical violence or removing parts of this girl’s anatomy?”

“An eye for an eye, Max,” said our friend. “It’s the only way. You hurt me, I will hurt you back—times ten!” She had jumped off the couch and seemed ready for action. “Lead me to her,” she said. “And I will do the rest. You guys simply walk away. That way you have plausible deniability.”

“But…”

“I will take full responsibility,” she said. “There are some things in life that are too important to leave to our humans,” she explained. “And this is one of them.”

“Okay, well, as far as I understand, these girls are at school together and are in the same class.”

“Her home address,” said Clarice. “All I need is her home address and I will take care of this girl once and for all. I will fix her,” she said with a vehemence that I thought was frankly a little scary. It certainly reminded me of the old Clarice, before she had decided that being a couch potato should be her main goal in life.

“Maybe we’ll all go,” said Harriet. “We’ll figure out a plan of how to deal with this kid. Though I wouldn’t advocate scratching her eyes out, Clarice. Her parents might not like it, and they might put you in the pound—or even have you put down, which is even worse.”

This gave Clarice pause. “Yeah, I guess being put down is not a good prospect.” She sighed. “Why does everything have to be so complicated? I mean, in the olden days you simply led an enemy into the woods and chopped their head off before burying them in a shallow grave so scavengers could scatter their remains. Nowadays you have to take into account that something like that might come and bite you in the patootie if you’re not careful.”

“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea that nowadays there are laws that deal with these contingencies,” I said. “After all, if you can go after your enemy, your enemy can also go after you, and then it’s you who will end up in a shallow grave with scavengers scattering your remains. And nobody likes that kind of thing, do they?”

“No, I guess they don’t,” Clarice admitted. “Though I still think it’s the best way to deal with a bully. But I’m prepared to follow your lead on this, Max. You always seem to know what to do, even if I don’t necessarily agree with it.”

They all turned to me. “So what’s the plan, Max?” asked Harriet. “How do we make this bullying stop?”

“Well, um…” I was loath to admit that I didn’t have a plan. How does a cat take out a bully? Or convince them that they should stop their bullying ways? It’s not such an easy proposition! Even though we now had one of the fiercest cats on our team, it wouldn’t do to simply let her loose on the bully. That might have the opposite effect. A bully provoked is twice as dangerous as a bully contained. And containment was what we were after.

“Diplomacy is an option,” I ventured.

Clarice stared at me. “I should have known that a yellow-bellied cat like you would suggest a wimpy solution like that,” she scoffed.

“Max doesn’t have a yellow belly,” said Dooley. “His belly is blorange, just like the rest of him.”

“Okay, it’s obvious that Max is a spent force,” said Clarice. “And so I guess I’ll have to take matters into my own paws.”

And with these words, she headed for the pet flap, and within a fraction of a second… was gone!

We all stared after her.

“Where did she go?” asked Harriet.

“Probably to look for the bully,” said Brutus.

“But… she doesn’t even know where to begin,” said Harriet.

I sighed. “It’s Clarice we’re talking about here. She has perfected the notion of a cat as a lone hunter. Trust me, she will find the bully and she will deal with her—permanently.”

Oh, dear. What had I done!

CHAPTER 15

Vesta didn’t like the sound of this. Her contact at the police department had just told her that the license plate Marc had given her had been stolen, which confirmed that Marc had been right all along: that van and its driver were up to no good!

“Are you sure?” asked Scarlett.

“When Chase says that the license plate has been stolen, that’s how it is,” she said. “He wouldn’t make up something like that.”

“Even though his boss had forbidden him from sharing that kind of information with you?”

Vesta gave her friend a wry grimace. “My son doesn’t know what’s good for him. He should be happy that we’re trying to support his efforts to make Hampton Cove a safer, more secure town. But instead, he seems to go out of his way to thwart us at every turn.”

“He’s a stickler for procedure,” Scarlett concurred with her assessment of Alec Lip, chief of police and Vesta’s son. Now if only he would love his mother like most sons do, but apparently Alec had never got the memo that a son should be devoted to his beloved mom and do whatever he can to honor her every wish and cater to her every little whim. But then that was Alec for you: when everyone zigged, he chose to zag.

“I think it’s time we had a chat with this person,” she told her friend.

“What person?”

“Why, the owner of that gallery, of course. You don’t think I can be fobbed off that easily, do you? No, we’re going to run a parallel inquiry, just to make sure it’s done the way it should be done. After all,” she added, tapping herself on the boney chest, “we were there first, remember.”

“How can I forget?” said Scarlett with a shiver. “I’ll probably never forget the sound of that blood-curdling scream or the sight of that man dying in front of us. It’s too terrible.”

“It’ll probably give us nightmares for the rest of our lives,” Vesta agreed, “and that’s why it’s important that we bring justice to his grieving relatives. Speaking of relatives, what have you found out from your trawl through the guy’s social media?”

Scarlett took out her phone. “Well, he seems to have been fully invested in this whole Plurtle business. His Instagram is one picture after another of a Plurtle, and when I Google his name, all I find are references to Plurtles. He was doing big business with his art.”

“Mh,” said Vesta as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “And as we all know, success breeds envy, and in some cases even hostile behavior in the people who can’t stand it.”

The two friends had taken refuge in Bread Baguette & Beyond, one of the many fine bakeries in town, not far from the art gallery where the exhibition of Leon Coutts’s Plurtles would be on display soon. Since the Star Hotel had been forced to close its dining room area due to ongoing police investigation, the two friends had been temporarily banished from their preferred spot. But since it’s never a bad idea to try something new, they decided to give the bakery a try. And it had to be said that the hot cocoa was pretty decent, and the pastry was excellent. The service was fine, and the person behind the counter was a familiar sight. It was, in fact, none other than Benny Dowd himself.

The man came over to their table and placed a dish with fresh pastry in front of them. Vesta didn’t need to be told twice to have a taste, and she had to admit it was pretty great.

“I didn’t know you baked,” she told the ex-con.

“Oh, but I don’t,” said Benny quickly, dissuading them from the notion that he was some kind of baking prodigy. “There’s an actual baker who knows his stuff.”

“So how is life treating you these days, Benny?” asked Scarlett.

“Can’t complain,” he said, taking a seat and joining them. The bakery was pretty quiet, and so he didn’t have a lot of work at the moment and had time for a quick chat.

“Francis arranged this job for you, did he?”

“He did, yeah,” said Benny with a grin. “He told me that idle hands are the devil’s workshop. So he put in a good word with the owner, and I have to say it’s not too bad. The pay is a joke, of course, but I knew that going in.”

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to still have your ear to the ground in your old circles, would you?” asked Vesta.

Benny gave her a shrewd look. “And what circles would that be, Mrs. Muffin?”

“The criminal kind?” She put her phone on the table. “It’s just that a van was spotted casing Mason Street. The license plates were stolen, according to my granddaughter’s husband, so I’m thinking… maybe you would have heard a rumor about a gang of burglars being active in that part of town?”

Benny studied the picture and shrugged. “It’s possible,” he said. “I haven’t heard anything, but then again, that’s not unusual. There are always shrewd and ambitious new operators trying to make a living. Unlike me,” he said with a sigh, “who is forced to work like a dog for a measly paycheck.”

“At least it’s honest work,” said Scarlett as she patted him on the arm. “And you won’t go to jail.”

“No, I guess that’s one of the main benefits,” he agreed. He then frowned. “Say, are you guys still doing that neighborhood watch thing?”

“Sure,” said Vesta. “In fact, we’re going out tonight to check out this business on Mason Street. Why? Wanna join?”

“Why not,” he said. “Life is so boring for me right now that I could use some action.”

He got up when a customer walked in and took a seat near the window. “See you later?”

“Ten o’clock,” said Vesta, well pleased that they would have an insider riding with them that night. They could always learn a thing or two from a former crook like Benny. Then she remembered something. “Say, Benny. We saw you outside the Star Hotel earlier. You wouldn’t know anything about a death that happened there, would you?”

Benny shook his head sadly. “I read about it, but unfortunately, I wasn’t involved. The guy jumped from his balcony, right? Suicide, you think?”

“The police aren’t sure yet,” said Vesta.

“He could have been pushed,” said Scarlett. “Which means it might have been a murder!”

Benny grinned. “That sounds more like it. I love myself a good murder.” Then his smile dropped from his face when he realized how his words might be interpreted. “Not that I would want to be involved in anything of that kind, of course.”

“So you weren’t involved in this one?” asked Vesta, just to be sure.

“Nope. Can’t say that I ever heard of this guy. Plurtles, right?”

“Yep, that’s right,” said Scarlett. “Very colorful and very pretty. If I had the money I’d get a couple for my living room. I’m sure Clarice would love them.”

“Clarice being?”

“My cat,” said Scarlett.

Benny thought for a moment. “You know, if you want, I can get you a couple of those Plurtles for a good price.”

Scarlett’s face lit up. “You could? Oh, that would be amazing!”

Vesta frowned. “Are you sure this is on the up and up, Benny? We wouldn’t want you to get into any kind of trouble.”

“Absolutely on the up and up,” said Benny. “Let’s just say that I know a guy who knows a guy who can lift them off the back of a truck. Just tell me how many you want and I’ll get them for you—no sweat.”

“A dozen?” asked Scarlett. When Benny’s face clouded, she added, “Too much?”

“You know what? For you, I’ll go out on a limb and get a dozen Plurtles, Scarlett.”

“Thanks, Benny,” said Scarlett, well pleased.

“How about you, Vesta?” asked the ex-con.

“What about me?”

“How many Plurtles do you need?”

“No Plurtles for me, thank you,” she said. And when Benny had left to attend to his customers, she told Scarlett, “And maybe no Plurtles for you, hon.”

“Oh, but they’re so lovely. They really brighten up the home.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t encourage Benny to get engaged with anything that might land him in prison again. And besides, buying stolen property isn’t a good look for the watch. It might get you in trouble, too.”

Scarlett lightly patted her hand. “I’m sure Benny isn’t involved in that kind of stuff anymore. He told us!” she added when Vesta gave her a skeptical look. “He said he’s out of that line of work.”

“Yeah, right,” she said as she watched the former crook write down the customers’ orders and start preparing them. She simply couldn’t imagine he’d be satisfied for very long working for minimum wage and tips at a job he obviously wasn’t excited about.

“At least he’ll be riding with us tonight, which will give us a chance to keep him out of trouble.”

Even Benny wouldn’t get up to anything illegal while engaged with the watch.

CHAPTER 16

Odelia was checking the area where the unfortunate man had fallen when she thought she saw something that the crime scene investigators must have missed. She frowned as she crouched down next to the tiny item and took out her phone to snap a shot. It was a small pendant of some kind, in the shape of a turtle, and the moment she realized what it was, she immediately dismissed its importance. After all, the area had been filled with patrons, so the pendant could belong to anyone.

Still, just to be on the safe side, she beckoned over her husband, who dutifully placed the item in a plastic evidence bag and handed it over to a member of his investigative team to add to the evidence that had already been collected.

“Odd that nobody saw this mystery woman,” she said.

“Yeah, that is odd,” Chase agreed.

His officers had talked to the receptionist and the staff of the hotel, as well as some of the guests, and no one had noticed a woman leaving Leon Coutts’s room, making her way downstairs, and then out of the hotel.

They had also checked the security footage, and no woman matching the description that Max had conveyed to her had been spotted. Which told her that either the turtle that Max had gotten the information from had been mistaken or...

“Could it be that she quickly changed her appearance so as not to be recognized?” she suggested to the detective.

“It’s possible,” said Chase. “Though the more likely explanation would be that this Shirley or whatever her name is, made a mistake.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she said.

“Wanna know what I think?”

She nodded. “Probably what I think?”

He smiled. “That’s why we work together so well, you and me. We both have the same hunches about this type of work.”

“I think that Leon Coutts had too much to drink and fell off his balcony,” she said.

“That’s what I think.”

“But what about the turtles that were stolen from his room?”

“How do we know those turtles were there in the first place? We have no evidence that this woman was ever in Leon’s room. No one saw her arrive or leave, and the only eyewitness we have is a turtle, probably traumatized by the death of her human. So let’s simply wrap this up for now and wait for the tox report to come back from the lab. I’ll bet you five to one it’ll show that Mr. Coutts was sozzled when he went over that railing.”

Odelia had also noticed the empty glass and bottles on the side table, and the room service people had told them that Leon was quite a fan of the stuff and had ordered several bottles to be delivered to his room the night before and also that morning. They had found more empties in his bin, which confirmed his fondness for hard liquor.

“Okay, let’s wrap things up for now,” she agreed.

“The manager has been bugging me to no end to release the dining room,” said Chase. “So let’s make the man happy and do exactly that.”

As far as she could see, and all the evidence supported this, Leon Coutts’s death had simply been an unfortunate accident. Possibly the pressure of his upcoming exhibition had compelled him to drink more than was good for him. He had gone out onto his balcony that morning, lost his balance, and fallen from the third floor. There was no big mystery in that.

“I’ll tell the cats the moment I see them that they can drop the investigation,” she said.

“Not that there ever was much of an investigation,” said Chase with a smile.

“We still have to speak to the business partner,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, I’ve been in touch with the guy, and he’s agreed to talk tomorrow. Hopefully by then we will have Abe’s report, officially release the body, and put this thing to bed.”

“Too bad about the Plurtles,” said Odelia. “I really like those cute little things.”

“What are we going to do about Shirley?” asked Chase as they made their way into the hotel.

“What are we going to do about Shirley and Max?” she shot back. “Though I should probably say Max One.”

“Oh, that’s right. We have two turtles to take care of now.” He frowned. “Remind me again where this other turtle comes from?”

“He was trying to find refuge in our backyard after he escaped Ted Trapper’s clutches,” said Odelia.

Chase stared at her. “We’re offering asylum to a turtle that escaped Ted’s clutches?”

“Max One claims that Ted made him work like a slave, and he didn’t like it. So he escaped at the first chance he got and applied for political asylum from Max.”

“Who immediately put him up at the house,” said Chase with a smile. “I should have known. Those cats of yours will turn our place into a zoo any time they have the chance.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” she said. “Though it is true that I have no idea what to do with two turtles—brother and sister, no less.”

According to Max, the turtles were missing the rest of their family, who might still be at the pet store that had sold them. So she could see a trip to the pet store in her near future, where she would be induced to acquire the rest of the turtle family so they could be reunited. And then what? She didn’t think it was a good idea to adopt a family of turtles. Though Grace might like it. Kids always loved turtles. They appealed to their imagination. So at least they might keep them for now until they could think of a better solution.

“What are the chances that my grandmother and Scarlett would have been the first on the scene?” she said as they headed for the manager’s office.

“Your grandmother and Scarlett are always the first to arrive on any scene,” said Chase. “That’s the way they are. And why your uncle gets so worked up about them. No one has poked her nose into police investigations to the extent that Vesta has and managed to get away with it. And even then, she complains that she doesn’t get enough access.”

Odelia clapped her husband on the back. “I’ll tell her there is no investigation. That way, she won’t have to stick her nose in this time, and Uncle Alec won’t have to complain about her getting in his hair again.”

“What hair? He doesn’t have any,” Chase quipped.

CHAPTER 17

We had arrived home, and I have to say I was glad. After all the excitement the morning had brought, it was good to be able to take a load off, have a bite to eat, and maybe even enjoy a nice long nap. It wasn’t long before Odelia popped in to drop off Shirley, and now we found ourselves in the unique situation of being in the company of no less than two turtles.

The reunion of brother and sister was a treat to watch and a very emotional moment for all of us. They were genuinely over the moon to be reunited, and even Harriet had to wipe away a tear at the sight of brother and sister clasping their paws together and exchanging what can only be termed a sort of hug. Though, of course, due to their unique physiology, it’s very hard for turtles to actually hug. In that sense, they’re hampered to some extent.

“Oh, you guys,” said Max One, giving me a look of genuine gratitude. “When I told you that I didn’t know what had happened to my family, I didn’t expect you to go out and bring them home to me.”

“It was happenstance,” I admitted. “Shirley had been bought by a man named Leon Coutts, who used her to make so-called Plurtles. Small statuettes in plastic to her likeness. He fell from his balcony this morning, and since she didn’t have anywhere to go, we decided to take her home with us.”

“So you have been modeling, have you?” asked Max One.

“That’s right. Your sister is a very successful model,” said Shirley. “Internationally known, in fact.” They both laughed heartily, and I could see that it had been the right decision to take her home with us.

Before long, Odelia returned once more, and this time she brought more turtles in the form of the rest of Max and Shirley’s family.

“We dropped by the pet store,” she explained, “and asked if they still had more turtles like the ones they had sold to Ted Trapper and Leon Coutts. It turns out they did. Only one turtle had been sold, to a man named Randal Dowling, who coincidentally was Leon’s business partner. So we’ll get in touch with him and try to get the whole family reunited.”

She stood back and watched with satisfaction as the entire family enjoyed their reunion. All in all, it would appear that Max One and Shirley’s mom and dad had been blessed with no less than six kids, five of whom Odelia now had under her roof, with one more to come—maybe.

She said her goodbyes for now and mentioned that Grace would be over the moon about the presence of the turtle family. “It will be a nice surprise for her,” she said as she hurried out to return to the office.

“It sure will be,” I said as I watched the five turtles get reacquainted and share their tales of what had happened while they were apart. As it transpired, the one turtle still missing was the youngest of the bunch—the Benjamin, so to speak. His actual name was Rhett.

I didn’t think these turtles would be staying with us. Before long, Odelia would find a new home for them where they could all be together. She’d make it a package deal: take all of them or none at all. And we were still reveling in the heartwarming scene of the big reunion when a familiar face appeared in the window. It was Rufus, our neighboring sheepdog, and he seemed eager to speak with me.

I hurried out through the pet flap, and he gave me an odd look. “I see you have turtles in there, Max.”

“Yeah, and plenty of them.”

“That’s an odd coincidence, as one of our turtles seems to have gone missing.”

“It’s not a coincidence,” I said. “One of the turtles in there ran away from Ted.”

“He did?” he asked, his face lighting up. “Gee, that’s great. Ted has been worried sick. He thinks that maybe animals got at the turtle and ate him or something.”

“No, Max One ran away from home,” I said. “He didn’t like the way Ted was treating him, apparently. And so he decided to take off and try his luck elsewhere.”

“But why?” asked Rufus, thoroughly befuddled by this. “I mean, are you sure that’s what he said?”

“I’m afraid so, buddy. He said that Ted made him work like a dog, and he didn’t like it. Also, he didn’t feed him the kind of food he likes, so there’s that too.”

“But… Ted treated that turtle like a king. Bought him the best food that money can buy and made him a nice little home in the shed.”

“So what’s all this about treating him like a slave?”

“Oh, that,” said Rufus. “Ted’s gotten it into his head that he needs to get in on this whole Plurtle craze. I don’t know if you’ve heard about that?”

“I have,” I confirmed. “Quite by accident, as the creator of the Plurtles died this morning, and Odelia and Chase were called to the scene to carry out an investigation.”

“The man who created the Plurtles died?” asked Rufus, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Yeah, Leon Coutts. Fell from his balcony. Or was pushed. The jury is still out on that. Though Chase and Odelia seem to think he had been drinking and may have accidentally fallen to his death.”

Odelia had given us the bad news when she dropped off the turtles—that Chase didn’t think Shirley made for a reliable witness. We hadn’t told the turtle yet, as nobody likes to be called unreliable. But that was the state of the investigation at that moment: that more than likely there wasn’t going to be an investigation.

“Ted will be devastated,” said Rufus. “He loves those Plurtles. He got involved in a big way. There’s been this major push for people to create their own Plurtles, you see. And enter them into a competition. The person who can create the best Plurtle will be chosen by the Plurtle’s creator to feature on his website, and their design will be sold in his online shop, which might net them quite a nice sum of money. So Ted has been working around the clock to create the best Plurtle he can make so he can win the competition.”

“And so that’s why he bought Max One?”

“Yeah, he figured he needed a real turtle to model for him, as he doesn’t know the first thing about the species. He’s been burning the midnight oil trying to create the Plurtle to end all Plurtles. And I think he was close to succeeding when all of a sudden his model disappeared. For a moment, he thought maybe a competing Plurtle wannabe artist had stolen him, but then he started thinking that maybe an animal had gotten into the shed and eaten the animal. You know, a fox or a raccoon.”

“Do we have foxes and raccoons in this neighborhood?”

“I doubt it,” said Rufus, “but you know what Ted is like. He has a habit of getting into a panic and starting to cast about like a madman. He even organized a search party and was thinking about putting up flyers all over the neighborhood.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t find out that Max One is actually staying with us,” I said. “He’d probably go ballistic.”

“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” said Rufus with a wink.

I smiled. “Is that a promise?”

“It is,” said Rufus. “I know that Ted can get a little maniacal when he picks up a hobby. So it couldn’t have been a lot of fun for that turtle to be cooped up in the shed and made to pose for Ted all the time.”

“No, it wasn’t a picnic,” I agreed. I glanced through the window, and so did Rufus.

“Are those…?”

“It’s Max’s family,” I said. “Odelia got them from the pet store, and they’ve been reunited.”

“That’s so sweet!” said Rufus, touched by the display of affection. He sighed deeply. “Sometimes I wish I had my brothers and sisters with me, you know. But I guess you guys are my family now.” He placed a paw on my shoulder. “Thanks for being so frank with me, Max. Ted’s loss is your gain. So will you create Plurtles now?”

“Plurtles? Me? Absolutely not,” I said.

“Oh. It’s just that I thought I saw Tex…” He hesitated, and I gave him a look of suspicion.

“Yes?”

“Oh, it’s probably nothing. But when I passed the garden house just now, I thought I saw Tex in there. It looked as if he was working on something very similar to a Plurtle.”

I closed my eyes.

Oh, dear.

CHAPTER 18

We found Tex in his shed, as Rufus had indicated, busy working on what could only be described as a sort of Plurtle. However, it didn’t resemble the fine and colorful Plurtles we had seen at the art gallery. Instead, it was more of a mockery of those striking and remarkable works of art. This Plurtle didn’t look like a turtle at all but more a rather overweight marmot. It certainly lacked the refined traits of Leon Coutts’s creations.

When Tex realized that he was no longer alone, he seemed disturbed. “What are you guys doing here?” he asked, none too friendly. “This workshop is off-limits.” With these words, he shooed us out and closed the door!

“Well, I never!” said Harriet, deeply insulted by this kind of behavior. “Who does he think he is, slamming the door in our faces like that?”

“Obviously, he’s going to enter the same competition that Ted is working to win,” I said.

Next to us, Rufus gave us a sheepish look. “I probably shouldn’t have told you. Now you’ll be in trouble with your human.”

“Tex is not our human,” said Brutus decidedly. “He’s merely an appendix.”

“No, if there’s anyone who will be in trouble, it’s him,” said Harriet. “The moment we tell Marge what’s going on, he will wish he was never born.”

You don’t slam a door in Harriet’s face, that’s for sure!

“I just hope that Ted won’t find out,” I said. “Or else there will be another war brewing. Like those gnome wars, remember?”

“Oh, do I remember,” said Rufus. “That was a pretty scary time, you guys. With gnomes being stolen, smashed to pieces, and even dissolved in acid.”

Just then, a head popped up over the fence. It was Ted Trapper, and he looked very much the worse for wear. All those late nights trying to perfect his Plurtle hadn’t done him any favors, and it showed.

“Rufus? I thought it was you. What’s going on? Why are you in Tex’s backyard? You know I don’t like it when you stray too far from home.”

“I was just looking for your turtle, Ted,” said the big woolly mammoth of a dog. “But I haven’t found it,” he added with a glance in my direction. I gave him two thumbs up, even though, of course, Ted would never understand what his dog was trying to convey.

“Better get over here,” said Ted. The head disappeared, only to pop up again a fraction of a second later. This time, Ted directed a look of suspicion at something next to the garden house, and the moment I saw what it was, I knew disaster had struck the House of Poole.

It was a drawing of a Plurtle—one that Tex must have been working on in preparation for his monstrous experiment.

Ted, realizing what it was, immediately popped through the little gate in the hedge and entered our backyard. Moments later, he was glancing through the small window into the garden shed. He must not have liked what he saw, for he emitted a sound like a minor gas explosion, and then he was yanking open the door of the shed and storming into his neighbor’s lair, hands balled into fists and a war cry escaping his lips.

“You stole my turtle!” he cried, pointing an accusing finger at the good doctor.

Tex must not have expected this, for he looked astonished. Quickly, his surprise was replaced by an expression of defiance. “I did not steal any turtle!” he said.

“Then what is that?” Ted cried, gesturing to the clay Plurtle.

“This,” said Tex proudly, “is my design for the big Plurtle competition. And I’m sure it’s a winner.”

Ted made a loud scoffing sound. “That! A winner! It’s so ugly it will probably be disqualified the moment you enter it in the contest!”

“It’s the most beautiful Plurtle in existence,” said Tex. “Bar none.”

“My Plurtle is the most beautiful Plurtle in existence!” said Ted. “And you want to know why? Because it’s based on the most beautiful turtle in existence.”

“I don’t even need a turtle,” said Tex. “That’s the kind of artist I am. I let my imagination and talent be my guide, unlike some who need an actual model!”

“You stole my turtle!” said Ted, and made to place a hand on his neighbor’s Plurtle-in-the-making.

“Don’t you dare touch my Plurtle!” Tex cried.

“Give me back my turtle, you thief!”

“I told you. I didn’t steal your turtle!”

Ted’s feverish eyes raked the walls of the small shed. “Where are you hiding him? Where is he? I know you’ve got him, Tex. So just admit it!”

Tex crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Read my lips, Ted. I do not have your turtle!”

“I will find him,” said Ted, wagging a finger in the doctor’s face. “I will find him, and then I will press charges, and you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law! Theft! Property damage! They’ll throw the book at you!”

“Oh, please,” said Tex. “Do your worst!”

“I will!”

“You’re all talk, Ted! Talk talk talk talk talk!”

“Boys, boys,” a voice suddenly called from behind us. It was Marge, and she seemed highly amused by the display of childish behavior from her husband and neighbor. “Can you both keep your voices down, please? I can hear you all the way up at the house.”

“He stole my turtle!” said Ted.

“I did not steal his turtle!” said Tex.

“Look, if my husband says that he didn’t steal your turtle, then he didn’t steal your turtle,” said Marge. “And now I think I’ll have to ask you to leave, Ted. The neighbors will think there’s someone being murdered and they might call the police.”

“Let them call the police,” said Ted. “I’ll tell them what I’m telling you: that this man is a thief!”

“In actual fact, Ted’s turtle is staying with us,” I told Marge. “He ran away from home because Ted worked him to the bone, and he didn’t like it. So he escaped and applied for political asylum with us.”

“Or maybe it was economic asylum,” said Dooley. “It’s hard to distinguish between the two.”

Marge’s mouth opened and closed a few times. She had not expected this.

“Max’s brother and sisters are also at the house,” Harriet added.

“They had a wonderful reunion just now,” said Brutus.

“Really touching,” said Harriet. “You should have seen it.”

Marge swallowed hard. She could probably tell that this complicated matters to some extent. She’s one of those people who appreciates having a good relationship with her neighbors, and it’s hard to maintain a good relationship when you offer political asylum to their turtles—though it could have been economic asylum, as Dooley had suggested.

Whatever the case, I still felt we had done the right thing. Though Ted probably wouldn’t see it that way.

“Let’s deal with this like grownups,” Marge said, trying to smooth things over. “Why don’t you get yourself a new turtle, Ted? I mean, they all look the same, don’t they?”

“They don’t,” said Ted curtly. “This turtle was different. It looked exactly like the turtle that Leon Coutts used to create his unique Plurtles. And so I was on the verge of creating a Plurtle just like the ones he makes. Tex must have realized that I was going to win the contest and decided to steal my turtle to sabotage me.”

“What contest?” asked Marge. “What are you talking about?”

Both her husband and Ted stared at her. “You mean you haven’t heard about the Plurtle competition?” asked Ted. “It’s only the most hyped and talked-about contest in the history of social media. The winner gets to sell his design in Leon Coutts’s very own store, possibly netting him millions in the process. It’s a big deal, Marge.”

“It’s a huge deal,” said Tex. “Which is why I’ve been working very hard on my design.” He stepped aside to offer his wife a glimpse of his creation. To Marge’s credit, she had a hard time keeping a straight face but somehow managed not to burst out laughing.

“What is that?” she asked finally, when she was sure she had her voice under control.

“That, my dear,” said Tex, “is a Plurtle.”

“It looks like a marmot.”

“Well, it’s not. It’s a Plurtle.”

“Then why does it look like a marmot?”

“It doesn’t, all right? It’s a Plurtle.”

“It’s not plastic,” said Ted. “To qualify for the competition, it has to be made out of plastic. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that,” said Tex irritably. “This is merely the first design. Once I have perfected it, I will reproduce it in plastic, just like the rules state.”

“Okay, boys,” said Marge. “I guess I’ll leave you to it. Just see that you don’t kill each other, all right?”

With that, she returned to the house, and from the way her shoulders were shaking, I had the impression she couldn’t contain her mirth any longer and was giving it free rein.

“Marge is right,” said Harriet. “It does look like a marmot. A very fat one.”

“It sure doesn’t look like any turtle I have ever seen,” Brutus confirmed.

“As long as Tex thinks it’s a turtle and it makes him happy,” I said, “that’s what counts.”

Ted must have realized his neighbor didn’t pose much of a threat in the way of competition for his own Plurtle and decided to let bygones be bygones—for now. He returned to his own backyard, summoning Rufus to follow him. As Tex scratched his head and stared at his Plurtle-in-the-making, wondering what could possibly have compelled his wife to call it a marmot, we decided to return to our backyard.

After all, we had a family of turtles to look out for—an important responsibility. And as long as Ted didn’t find out that his beloved turtle was staying with us, things were fine.

CHAPTER 19

We settled in on the couch to watch over the turtles and await Odelia’s return. I really enjoy these moments: first Odelia arrives, bringing Grace along with her, and then Chase follows shortly. They talk about how their day has been. Grace talks about her day, and often Marge pops in, or Tex, or both. Gran is never far away, and as the family starts preparing dinner, it creates a fun and lively atmosphere. This time it was even more exciting, for the moment Grace spotted the turtles, she squealed so loudly it could probably be heard all over town.

“Turtles!” she cried. “You got me turtles!”

“We did!” said Odelia. “Well, maybe not to keep, but at least for now they’ll be staying with us.”

“We can’t keep them?” asked Grace.

“Unfortunately not,” said Odelia. “Five is too many, and we want to keep them together, as they’re all part of the same family. They’re brothers and sisters, you see. And there’s a sixth one,” she added. “But we’re still trying to negotiate its return.”

“Ooh, this is so great!” Grace cried as she settled down in front of the turtles’ habitat. It was nice and big and snug, and they seemed to like it in there. “Can I take them out?” she asked.

“Maybe better to leave them,” said Odelia. “It’s been quite a turbulent time for them, and they probably would like to take things easy.”

“It can be quite stressful when they’re picked up,” Chase added.

Marge had also entered the house and gestured for her daughter to follow her out onto the deck.

“What’s wrong?” asked Odelia as she stepped out with her mom. She closed the sliding glass door behind her so we couldn’t hear what they were discussing, but I had a feeling it was probably related to the Plurtle incident between Ted and Tex earlier.

“They’re so cute, Daddy,” said Grace as she gently rubbed one of the turtles. The trouble was that I couldn’t distinguish one from the other, as they all looked very similar. So it could have been Max One, or it could have been Shirley. No way of knowing until they made themselves known. But they seemed to enjoy all the attention that was being heaped on them and went about their business of eating the lettuce that Odelia had brought.

“I hope we can keep them,” said Grace as she darted a pleading look at her dad.

“We’ll have to wait and see,” he said. “One of them has been involved in an incident, and maybe she will have to go and live with the relatives of the person who owned her.”

“What incident?” Grace wanted to know.

He smiled. “You don’t need to concern yourself with that, sweetheart.”

She nodded, then darted a curious look at me. I sighed. “A man fell from a balcony,” I explained.

“Or was pushed,” Harriet added.

“Or maybe he jumped,” Brutus said.

“Either way, he didn’t survive. Since Shirley belonged to him, and we didn’t want to leave her there, we decided to take her home with us.”

“Also, because Shirley’s brother, Max One, had asked us to try and reunite him with his family,” said Harriet. “So when we discovered that Shirley was Max One’s sister, we just had to take her home.”

“Which one is Max One?” asked Grace.

“Um…” I said, giving her a helpless look.

She laughed. “You don’t know, do you, Max?”

“No, I guess not,” I admitted.

“I’m Max One,” one of the turtles piped up. “And I have to say I’m disappointed in you, Max, for not recognizing me.”

“It’s just that you all look very similar,” I said. “So it’s hard to distinguish one from the other.”

He gave me an injured look. “Are you saying that all turtles look the same to you?”

“Well… yes,” I admitted.

He sighed with relief. “Oh, good. Because all cats look the same to me, too. I mean, I have a hard time distinguishing you from Brutus or Harriet or Dooley.”

Harriet seemed insulted by this. “Are you really trying to tell me that you can’t distinguish me from Max? I find that very hard to believe, Max One.”

“Why are you called Max One?” asked Grace.

“So you wouldn’t confuse him with me,” I said.

Grace laughed. “Oh, Max. There’s no chance of that!”

She was right. I did look very different from a turtle.

“This is my sister Shirley,” said Max One, continuing the introductions, “and my other sisters Ginger and Irene.”

“Hi, Grace,” the two lady turtles piped up.

“And this is my brother Lance.”

“Howdy,” Lance boomed in a surprisingly deep voice.

“So who is still missing?” asked Grace.

“Rhett,” said Max One. “And I hope he’ll be all right. We’re all very worried about him, as the person who bought him did not give me a good feeling. Isn’t that right, you guys?”

“No, he certainly did not,” said Shirley.

“I think he was a bad man,” said Lance.

“An evil man,” Ginger stressed.

“He’ll probably have made turtle soup of Rhett by now,” said Irene somberly.

They all reflected on this, and I could tell that Grace was strongly moved by this tale of woe. “Oh, no!” she said. “Not turtle soup!”

“I’ll bet he did,” said Max One. “Some people are like that. They’re crazy, you know.”

“But we have to save Rhett!” said Grace. “Before it’s too late! Do you know where he is?”

“He was bought by a man named Randal Dowling,” I said. “But that’s all we know.” Suddenly I remembered something. “Wait, what was that bully called? The one who has been bullying Brian Brocket’s sister Jodie?”

“Um… Lacey something,” said Brutus.

“Lacey Dowling,” said Harriet.

We all shared a look. “You don’t think this Randal Dowling is the bully’s dad, do you?” asked Brutus. “I mean, that would be quite a coincidence.”

“It’s a small town, Brutus,” I said. “So it’s very much possible that this Randal Dowling bought Rhett as a present for his daughter.” The very same daughter that Clarice had said she was going to hound relentlessly until she stopped being a bully.

“Max?” said Brutus, giving me a look I knew all too well.

I groaned. It looked like our pleasant evening at home would have to be cut short. For if Clarice really carried out her threat and bullied the bully, Rhett just might be caught in the crossfire.

CHAPTER 20

Lacey Dowling had had a pretty rough day. She had been sitting in class, minding her own business, when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a cat had appeared and jumped on top of her head! The vicious creature had dug its claws into her scalp and caused her no small amount of aggravation.

The teacher and several other students had finally managed to dislodge the beast, which must have been crazy, but it had escaped before they could catch it, not before turning half the class into a war zone by jumping all over the place and generally making a nuisance of itself. After its passage, blood had been on the floor, and backpacks, books, and even Mrs. Fennelly’s beloved potted plants had been scattered everywhere. Lacey had been bleeding from the small cuts on her head and had been advised to go to the school nurse, where she had been examined and the wounds had been treated with an iodine solution to make sure they didn’t get infected. She had also received a tetanus shot, which hurt even more.

All in all, it hadn’t been her finest hour.

She had arrived home and had immediately gone upstairs to play with her pet turtle but had found it listless and not moving around its cage as a good turtle should.

“Stupid beast,” she said, deciding that a turtle was probably the lamest pet anyone could ever hope to get. Lucky for her, she also had a pony, a dog, several horses in the stables, and even an emu. Though she didn’t like the emu. It had a habit of chasing her. In fact, the only person the emu liked was her dad. But then Dad had bought the emu, so maybe it had gotten attached to him, thinking he was its human and not Lacey.

She threw herself down on the bed and checked her socials. Plenty of likes and comments on her latest post. She grinned as she studied the comments. It was another one of the videos in her campaign to get that idiot Jodie expelled, or at the very least make her change schools. Even though Jodie had been her best friend since kindergarten, that was all in the past. Jodie wasn’t the person she once thought she was, and so she had to go.

This particular video was the best. She hadn’t made it herself, of course, but had asked a friend of her brother to make it for her. He was a TikTok genius and involved in content creation for some of the biggest brands on the platform. So when she told her brother what she needed, he had immediately told his buddy to whip up a couple of videos. He had made a dozen, and that was just for starters. In it, she had taken Jodie’s likeness and had made her move and say things with the assistance of AI that she would never say in real life. It was so funny she had tears in her eyes when she first saw it. Just so cool!

Jodie had accused her of bullying, of course, but that was to be expected. She had even complained to the principal, but Lacey had simply pointed out she couldn’t possibly be behind this campaign, as she didn’t have the skills required to create such a sophisticated video. She had even accused Jodie of doing it herself, to get more attention and play the victim. The principal had actually believed her and had apologized to her.

This latest video depicted Jodie while she was saying the most hilarious stuff.

“I’m so stupid I can’t even count to two,” said the deepfake Jodie. She held up her hand, “One… um… zero?”

Lacey laughed so hard she had to hold her belly. This was pure genius! And there were plenty more videos in the pipeline. By the time her campaign was through, there would be no more Jodie at school, she was sure of it. And if that didn’t work, she would simply accuse the girl of harassing her. Considering that her dad had such a big influence on the school board, because of certain donations he had made, Jodie would probably be expelled.

Her door opened and her mom stuck her head in. “How was school today?”

“Oh, Mom, a cat attacked me!” she said, showing the bandages that were still attached to her forehead.

Mom walked in and sat down on the bed. “Yeah, I got a call from the principal. She told me about it. How did this cat get into the classroom?”

“I have no idea!” said Lacey. “And I don’t know why it singled me out, but it just dug its claws in and wouldn’t let go! Look what it did.” She showed her the spot where the vicious creature had dug its claws in. “I even had to get a tetanus shot. It was totally awful!”

“I’ll have to complain to the principal,” said Mom.

“Maybe get Mrs. Fennelly fired,” said Lacey. “She shouldn’t have allowed this to happen, Mom. I mean, if I can’t even be safe inside the school, things have gone too far. It’s like…” She waved her arms around helplessly. “It’s like a terrorist attack!”

“I’ll talk to your dad,” she said, giving Lacey a hug. She glanced over at the turtle cage. “What’s going on with your new turtle? Why is it not moving?”

“I think it’s dead,” said Lacey.

“Oh, that’s too bad. You only got it last week.”

“I’ll flush it down the toilet,” said Lacey.

“Are you sure it’s dead?”

“It doesn’t move.”

“Daddy will get you a new one, darling.”

“Thanks, Mom. When will dinner be ready?”

“Soon,” said Mom as she got up. She glanced down at her phone. “Is that… Jodie?”

“Yeah, she’s at it again. With the videos. Trying to get attention and acting like a victim.”

“And to think that you and Jodie used to be such good friends. I really don’t know what’s gotten into that girl.”

“She seems to hate me now,” said Lacey sadly. “I don’t know why. I never did anything to her or said anything. But she’s been hanging out with that Maddison girl a lot lately, and I think she may have a bad influence on her.”

“Maddison? Is that the girl…”

“With the tattoos, yes. And the piercings. She’s a total freak, Mom.”

Mom frowned. “I don’t want you to get involved with her, honey. A girl like that is a very bad influence. Just look at Jodie. I’ll bet you’re right and she’s the reason that Jodie’s gone off the rails like that.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. I don’t talk to Maddison. I knew from the start that she was bad news and made sure not to have anything to do with her.”

“My clever girl,” said Mom as she caressed Lacey’s cheek affectionately. “Well, better take care of that turtle. And I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

The door closed and Lacey got up from the bed. She had lied to her mom about the turtle being dead, but it wasn’t moving, so it was probably at death’s door. Since she didn’t have any qualms about getting rid of things she didn’t need, she opened the lid of the cage and grabbed the turtle, preparatory to flushing it down the toilet. Just then, a noise caught her attention. It was a kind of hissing sound. When she looked up, she saw that a cat had appeared on the windowsill and was staring at her while assuming a hostile stance.

If she wasn’t mistaken, it was the exact same cat that had attacked her in class that day!

CHAPTER 21

Cats have been known to eat turtles from time to time when there’s nothing else on the menu. So when Rhett saw that cat appear in his field of vision, he wasn’t feeling all that sanguine about the prospect of making the vicious beast’s acquaintance. It certainly looked eager to turn him into cat food. It had that vicious look in its eyes he knew all too well from some of the other animals at the pet store, some of whom had given him that same look.

Fortunately for him, the cat seemed more intent on targeting the girl who had recently become his new human than going after him. And so, as the girl and the cat engaged in a fight to the death—or at least that’s what it looked like to Rhett—he decided that perhaps he was better off elsewhere and made every effort to escape from the room.

The moment the cat attacked, Jodie had dropped him, and so he started for the window. It would take a little while to get there, as turtles aren’t exactly the fastest creatures of the animal kingdom, but he was determined—and dogged persistence always wins the race.

The cat had jumped on top of Jodie’s head, and as it was swung around wildly by the girl, in an attempt to dislodge the creature from her cranium, she screeched like a banshee all the while and didn’t pay attention to Rhett, who was slowly but surely negotiating the distance to the window. His cage had fallen to the floor, and he welcomed its destruction while those great open spaces beckoned that his forebears had enjoyed so much.

Dreams of living in or near a nice pond appealed to him to such an extent that he could practically feel the cooling water touch his little paws. So, with a big smile on his tiny face, he crawled underneath the bed and then out the other side, keeping an eye on the prize.

While he was making his big and heroic trek to a better future, the room was being thoroughly demolished by the fun and games engaged in by that comical duo of the girl and the cat, all the while commenting on their enjoyable play by emitting the loudest shrieks and squeals that Rhett had ever heard. It didn’t bother him too much, for as long as they kept busy with each other, they didn’t pay any attention to him and his daring escape.

He had almost reached the window when the door to the room swung open and another human entered. It was the mother of the girl—the one who had agreed that flushing Rhett down the toilet was a good idea. Yet another reason to escape, as he didn’t think being flushed down the toilet was conducive to his good health and well-being. Obviously, these were not the kind of people fit to be called pet parents, a fact that had further solidified his desire to make a run for it.

The woman, who seemed dismayed at the sight of her daughter fooling around with the cat, made every attempt to stop the game by trying to yank the cat from her daughter’s head. However, the cat was quite entrenched in its position and determined to see its strategy through to the bitter end. Even though it was now combating two humans instead of just the one, it didn’t seem bothered by the odds stacking up against it in the slightest.

Instead, it gave as good as it got by putting its claws and teeth to good use.

The upshot was that two humans were screeching and wailing and kicking up a storm. As Rhett crawled up to the window and then out through that aperture to a better life, he silently thanked the cat for providing the kind of distraction he needed to get away.

Behind him, more humans entered the fray, and at this point, the cat must have realized that it was playing a losing game. Cats are clever. They know when to execute a strategic retreat, to live and fight another day. Suddenly, it made a great leap to the open window and then out, racing away at a high rate of speed, leaving quite the devastation behind.

No matter, Rhett thought. At least he was free. Free as a bird!

He probably would have made it to that pond he had been dreaming of if he hadn’t encountered four more cats. And this time, they seemed to have him in their crosshairs, for the moment they came upon him, the biggest of the lot said, “Rhett, I presume?”

Gah. And to think he had almost made it!

CHAPTER 22

It wasn’t easy to find the house where Rhett might be holed up, but when we make a promise, we try to keep it. So after asking around, we found the one cat who could point us in the right direction. It was, of course, Kingman. It had actually been Brutus’s idea to consult the unofficial feline mayor of Hampton Cove. And so before we set out to find Rhett, we made a detour past the General Store to talk to Kingman.

We found the voluminous cat lounging in front of his human’s store, shooting the breeze with any feline that passed by. When he saw us, the smile on his face told us that he was more than happy to see us.

“Oh, hey, you guys,” he said. “What a big hullaballoo this morning, huh? With that guy that fell from his window?”

“Actually, he fell from his balcony,” said Harriet. “And I’ll tell you something else that you probably didn’t know, Kingman. Our human was right there when it happened.”

“Odelia?”

“No, Gran. She was enjoying her usual hot cocoa with Scarlett when this guy fell from the sky and practically landed at her feet.”

“Oh, my,” said Kingman, duly impressed. “And was he dead?”

“He was, yes, but not before he spoke a few last words.”

“He actually whispered them into Gran’s ear,” said Dooley.

“And what were they?” asked Kingman, intrigued by the story so far.

“‘Tell them… Figurine did it,’” said Harriet proudly. She had memorized the words and was happy to be able to recite them now.

“‘Figurine did it’? Who’s Figurine?” asked Kingman.

“No idea,” said Harriet. “Though it is true that he was a maker of famous figurines, apparently.”

“Turtles,” said Brutus. “Though he called them Plurtles.”

“Plastic turtles,” I said. “Very colorful and very pretty, I have to say.”

“He used a real-life model to make them,” said Harriet, “and that model is now staying with us. Her name is Shirley and she looks exactly like the Plurtles. Only less… plasticky? And less colorful, too. But then I guess they don’t really make turtles like that in nature.”

“No, unless maybe on some remote island in the South Pacific,” said Brutus. “But then Dooley would probably know about that, as he watches all those nature documentaries, don’t you, Dooley?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a turtle that looks like a Plurtle,” Dooley confirmed. “Though it would be fun to see them walking around. It would be quite the sight.”

“Scarlett said she likes them very much,” I said. “And so do Odelia and Marge. They all want a Plurtle. Unfortunately, they’re expensive, so I don’t think they’ll be able to buy them any time soon.”

“Someone stole the victim’s collection of Plurtles,” said Harriet. “So chances are that they’ll pop up on some sites.”

Kingman whistled through his teeth. “What a story! A dead man, Plurtles, and actual living turtles. The stuff you guys get involved in.”

“And now we’re trying to save another turtle,” I said. “His name is Rhett, and he’s been bought by a man named Randal Dowling.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where we can find this Mr. Dowling, would you?” asked Harriet. “We made a promise to Rhett’s brothers and sisters that we would reunite them with their brother.”

“Yeah, I know where Randal Dowling lives,” said Kingman. “Wilbur sometimes drops stuff off at his house. He’s one of those people with more money than sense, so instead of doing his own shopping, he sends Wilbur a list of the things he needs, and Wilbur drives out there and delivers them—for a hefty fee, of course. Wilbur’s not crazy. He wouldn’t do this if these people didn’t make it worth his while. And Randal Dowling certainly does.”

He supplied us with the address, but seeing as it was a little far for us to travel all that way, I wondered if we couldn’t find a different mode of transport—hitch a ride, so to speak. Unfortunately, Wilbur wasn’t driving out there that day, or we could have asked Kingman if we could ride along. But then I had a better idea. Looking across the street, we saw Gran and Scarlett walking along, talking animatedly amongst themselves. So I yelled for them to cross the street, and moments later, they did.

“We need to be somewhere,” I told Gran. “Could you give us a lift, please?”

“It’s very important,” said Dooley. “We need to reunite a family of turtles, and they will be very sad if we don’t do as we promised.”

Gran smiled. “Reunite a family of turtles. Now that’s what I like to hear. This wouldn’t have anything to do with the turtles my granddaughter adopted recently, would it?”

“It has everything to do with that,” said Brutus. “There’s one turtle missing, and he’s been bought and paid for by a man named Randal Dowling. Kingman just gave us the address, so now all that needs to be done is for us to head on over there and see if we can’t manage to finagle a way for Rhett to join us.”

“Rhett? Is that the turtle’s name?”

“That’s right. He’s is the Benjamin of the family.”

“Which is odd when you think about it,” said Dooley. “Because his name is Rhett.”

“Cute,” said Gran, and as she relayed the story to Scarlett, the latter also felt it was important that we save this turtle from being separated from the rest of the family.

“Though there is such a thing as property laws,” she told us.

“We can always offer this Randal Dowling money in exchange for letting us have his turtle,” said Gran.

“And what if he doesn’t want to sell?” asked Scarlett.

“Then we simply steal him,” said Gran resolutely.

“I thought you were against stealing? When Benny offered me those Plurtles, you made a big stink.”

“I didn’t make a big stink. And besides, this is different. This is a rescue operation. A humanitarian intervention to reunite a family sundered by a pet shop owner’s greed.”

Scarlett thought about this for a moment, but then figured that Gran had a point. “It is for the greater good,” she said.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” said Gran.

We thanked Kingman for his input, and then we were off with the two old ladies. We were on a mission to save a turtle and reunite him with his family.

In other words: we were on a mission from God!

CHAPTER 23

What Gran hadn’t expected, and certainly neither had we, was that this Randal Dowling person would be living in a giant mansion surrounded by an electric fence. It made it a little hard for Gran and Scarlett to simply walk up to the door, talk to Mr. Dowling, and try to convince him to sell Rhett to them. They did ring the bell, and there was a camera of some kind, but when the intercom finally crackled to life and a voice demanded they state their business, it didn’t seem to like what it was hearing. The voice immediately snapped, “We’re not interested,” and broke off all communication with the duo.

“Well, that’s rich,” said Gran. “He just told us to buzz off! Is that friendly? Is that nice?”

“No, it most certainly isn’t,” said Scarlett, also quite upset by this brush-off. Nobody likes to be brushed off, and the two members of the neighborhood watch least of all.

“I think we should try again,” said Gran, so she pushed the button a second time. This time, the person on the other end didn’t even bother to open negotiations but simply ignored us.

“I don’t like it,” said Gran. “I think I’ll file a complaint against these people. Obviously, they’re up to all kinds of terrible stuff if they ignore a pair of lovely ladies like ourselves.”

“I must say I’m very disappointed,” said Scarlett. “Extremely disappointed, in fact.”

“So am I.” She directed a curious glance at me. “Did you say that this is the man whose daughter is being accused of being a bully?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly right,” I said. “Lacey Dowling has been bullying Brian Brocket’s sister for weeks now, and he wants us to put a stop to the behavior.”

“But we already have someone who has taken up the task,” said Harriet.

“Oh? And how might that be?” asked Gran.

“Why, Clarice, of course.”

Gran’s eyes went wide. “You asked Clarice to deal with this bully?”

“We thought it was a good idea at the time,” I said a little sheepishly.

“You wanted us to get Clarice off the couch,” said Brutus. “And so we did. The moment she heard the story of this poor kid being bullied, she took off like a bat out of hell.”

“So… Clarice is presumably somewhere on the premises?” asked Gran, eyeing the front gate for any possible weaknesses she could probe.

“What?” asked Scarlett, looking astonished. “My Clarice?”

“Yeah, Max and the others asked her to deal with this bully. And so she took off and hasn’t been seen since.”

“What bully?”

“It’s a long story,” said Gran. “But basically, there’s this kid whose sister is being bullied. She wrote about it in her diary, the kid happened to read it, and he asked Odelia to deal with the bully and save his sister. So Odelia told the cats, and they told Clarice, and she was so moved that she immediately took to the task like a duck to water, so to speak.”

“I guess it’s a good thing she’s off her couch,” said Scarlett thoughtfully. “And at least she has a project. It’s important to have a project. Something to occupy your time.”

“It is important to have a project,” Gran agreed. “And now that Clarice has one, it takes some of the pressure off Odelia, who has enough on her plate with this guy jumping off his balcony.”

“Or being pushed,” said Scarlett.

“Or being pushed,” Gran confirmed. She sighed. “Okay, looks like this Dowling fella is not going to let us in, so I guess it’s up to you guys to look for this turtle.” She arched an eyebrow in my direction. “Think you’re up to the task, Max?”

“Absolutely!” Brutus answered for me. “Let’s go and get him, you guys!”

And with these words, he walked straight through the gate, which was one of those iron contraptions consisting of a series of parallel rods soldered to a sturdy frame. Impossible for Gran and Scarlett to pass through, but easy for us to breach. Though I had a little more trouble with the breaching part than my friends, on account of those big bones of mine.

In the end, I still managed, though I thought I might have bruised my belly a little.

“Like squeezing toothpaste out of a tube,” Brutus said with a grin as I touched my stomach for any signs of a puncture wound. “Isn’t it, Maxie baby?”

“I’ll have you know that I don’t feel like toothpaste,” I said. “More like a piece of meat being shoved through a meat grinder.”

“Tough,” said Brutus. “The things we do for the cause, huh?”

The house quickly loomed up before us, and as we had surmised, it was one of those big mansions that are all the rage with the extremely wealthy and outrageously prosperous.

“I wonder where we will find the turtle,” said Harriet. “Where do they keep turtles in places like this?”

“Possibly in one of the bedrooms?” I suggested. “Mostly turtles are bought as presents for the kids, so maybe Randal Dowling bought it for his daughter. In which case, we have to find her bedroom.”

We stood before the mansion, and I counted plenty of windows. “How many kids do they have?” asked Harriet with a touch of exasperation. “I mean, look at the number of windows, you guys. There must be dozens and dozens!”

“It’s like that Downton Abbey place,” said Dooley sadly. “Without the funny costumes.”

Just at that moment, a loud screeching sound reached our ears. It sounded like a human in a state of extreme distress. There was another sound, though, hidden underneath it, and if I wasn’t mistaken, the source of that sound was very familiar to us.

“But… that’s Clarice!” said Brutus.

It was indeed Clarice, and she was either having the time of her life, or fighting for it!

The noise seemed to come from a nearby window, and as we hurried in that direction, we were just in time to see Clarice fleeing from the window and making for the nearest shrubbery. Behind her, an irate-looking woman appeared, shaking her fist and yelling something along the lines of, “And don’t come back!”

She had blood on her face, and next to her, a teenager appeared, who also had blood on her face and lots of scratches.

“Looks like Clarice found her bully,” said Brutus, sounding awed at the sight of this twosome.

“And she meted out some justice,” said Harriet.

“Poor girl,” said Dooley. “She doesn’t look very happy.”

“If she’s the bully, she probably got what she deserved,” I said.

Since we were eager to find out if Clarice had encountered a turtle while she was meting out this justice, we went in search of her.

We found her in the shrubbery, licking her claws with a satisfied look on her face. I have to say she looked very much like her former formidable self again. This hunt for the bully had clearly done her a world of good.

She looked up when we approached. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, relaxing again. “For a moment there, I thought those jerks had come after me.”

“Was that the bully?” asked Dooley, eyeing Clarice with the kind of respect that the former street cat commanded.

“Yeah, but I don’t think she will be bullying anyone ever again,” said Clarice with satisfaction. “And if she does, I’ll be watching. And waiting. To make sure she doesn’t get up to her old tricks.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have seen a turtle while you were… getting even with the bully, would you?” I asked.

Clarice frowned. “A turtle? I don’t think I saw a turtle. Though it’s entirely possible there was one. In fact, now that you mention it, I think I saw a turtle cage crashing to the floor at some point during the proceedings. Not my fault, mind you. When I attached myself to her, the bully started spinning around like a whirligig. No idea why. All it did was make me hang on more tightly and dig my claws in deeper.” She grinned. “If you have more of these little assignments for me, just say the word, and I’ll get right on it.”

“You’re a true vigilante, Clarice,” said Dooley, his voice dripping with admiration.

“Yeah, I guess I missed this,” said our friend with a wistful sigh. “Living in luxury is all fine and dandy, but you do lose your edge.”

“Can you help us find the turtle?” I asked. “It’s important we reunite him with his family.”

“Oh, sure,” said Clarice. “Though I’m not convinced it’s a good idea for me to go back there right now. I’ll bet that annoying girl has managed to engage the services of an entire group of bodyguards by now, all to defend her against one tiny little kitty like me.”

“We’ll go first,” I suggested. “And if we don’t see the turtle, we’ll have to come back when the house is quiet again. Maybe tonight.”

I was still hopeful that we might find the turtle. After all, I didn’t want to have to return home empty-pawed. And if this girl was as vicious as Brian Brocket had indicated, and as Clarice had experienced first-paw, there was no telling what she might do to this turtle. Maybe dress it up in weird costumes or use it for target practice. These bullies can’t be trusted and should be monitored carefully.

As we carefully retraced our steps to the house, we happened to come across a tiny turtle, valiantly making his way to the same shrubbery that Clarice was hiding in.

“Rhett, I presume?” I asked.

The turtle seemed so excited to see us that he didn’t respond at first. Instead, he merely whimpered, no doubt from the sheer emotion of seeing his saviors in the flesh.

Finally, he managed to burst into speech. What he said surprised me a great deal.

“P-p-p-please don’t eat me, M-m-mr. C-c-cat!”

CHAPTER 24

“Of course I’m not going to eat you,” I said.

“We don’t eat turtles,” Dooley clarified.

“We do adopt them, though,” said Harriet.

“In fact, our human just adopted all five of your brothers and sisters,” said Brutus.

“And they wanted us to bring you home too,” I added. “So you see? We would never eat you or cause you any harm. You are Rhett, aren’t you?” I added, just to be sure. Even though it still embarrassed me a great deal to admit it, it was true what I had told the other turtles: all of them looked pretty much the same to me, so whether this one was related to Max One and the others was not something I could determine at first glance.

“You aren’t going to eat me?” asked the turtle.

“Of course not,” I said. “Like Dooley said, we’re not in the habit of eating turtles. We only help them out when they’re in trouble.”

“We gave refuge to your brother Max One,” said Brutus, “when he decided to run away from our neighbor Ted Trapper, who was using him as a slave to create his Plurtles.”

“What is a Plurtle?” asked the turtle.

“It’s a plastic turtle,” I said. “But that doesn’t matter right now. So are you Rhett or aren’t you?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes, that is my name. But how did you know?”

I got the impression that this turtle was a little slow on the uptake. Possibly he had been dropped on his head as a baby. “Like we already told you: your brothers and sisters are all staying with us. And they asked us to find you so you can be reunited with them.”

“How can I be sure that you’re not friends with that— Oh, no, there she is!”

He was pointing to a spot behind us, and as we turned, I saw that he was referring to Clarice, who had emerged from her hideout to take in the scenery.

“Oh, you found the turtle,” she said. “Good for you.”

“She’s the one who tried to eat me!” said the turtle.

“I’m sure that Clarice was way too busy to try and eat you,” I said.

“She was punishing a bully,” said Dooley. “Teaching her a lesson she wouldn’t forget.”

“The lesson being that bullying isn’t a nice thing to do,” said Harriet.

“Are you sure? She was creating quite a big mess in there.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Clarice gets a little carried away when she’s on one of her missions.”

“She meant well,” said Brutus.

The turtle still didn’t seem fully convinced, and when Clarice joined us and gave him a smile, he moved back a few paces.

“Okay, I never saw you there, buddy,” she said. “And if I knocked over your cage, I’m sorry, all right? It’s just that I was being swung around by that horrible girl. She’s really something. Very strong, I have to say, but I think I gave as good as I got.”

“You really did,” said the turtle, still eyeing us with suspicion but warming to us a little now that we had explained ourselves.

“So what do you think?” I asked. “Do you want us to take you to your family? Your brothers and sisters are all waiting for you back home. “

“Maxwell, Lance, Shirley, Ginger and Irene,” said Dooley.

Rhett seemed to hesitate. “How do I know you won’t put me in a pot and turn me into turtle soup?”

“Because we don’t eat soup,” said Dooley. “No, but it’s true, isn’t it?” he added when Brutus laughed. “We don’t eat soup. At least I don’t. I find soup very watery.”

“Dooley is right,” said Harriet. “I really don’t see the big attraction. It’s just water with some condiments added in for flavoring purposes, and personally I think it’s a scam.”

“You think soup is a scam?” asked Brutus.

“Sure. Why else charge a fortune for water that tastes funny? It’s not real food, is it?”

“No, I guess you’re right,” said Brutus. “Though when they add meatballs, it’s a different story.”

“I like meatballs,” said Dooley. “I like meatballs very much. But without the soup.”

Throughout this conversation, I had taken my eye off the turtle. When I looked again, he was gone. One moment he was there, and the next—vanished into thin air!

I darted an accusatory look at Clarice. “Did you eat the turtle?”

“Of course I didn’t eat the turtle,” she said, looking a little hurt by my comment.

“Then where is he?”

It wasn’t long before we found him again. He had simply continued his journey, but since turtles are a little slow, it didn’t take us long to catch up with him.

“Please don’t eat me!” he yelled when he became aware of our renewed presence in his vicinity.

“Oh, will you cut it out with the eating business?” said Harriet. “We told you that we don’t eat turtles, all right?”

“If we did, we would have eaten you by now,” said Brutus.

The turtle seemed to see the wisdom in Brutus’s reasoning, for he finally agreed that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea for us to take him home to his family.

“She was going to flush me down the toilet, you know,” he said.

“Who was?” I asked. “Lacey Dowling?”

“That’s right. She thought I was dead because I wasn’t moving as vigorously as she expected me to. I could have told her that turtles aren’t vigorous movers and shakers, but I could tell that she was already bored with me. Some of these kids are like that.”

I shook my head. “Well, that’s just the worst,” I said. “Flushing you down the toilet.”

“I can’t believe she would do such a thing,” said Harriet, equally aghast.

“I can,” said Clarice. “Because she is a mean bully who needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Okay, then it’s decided,” said Rhett. “Please take me to see my family. But if I see a soup terrine, I’ll have you know that I will consider our arrangement null and void.”

“Agreed,” I said. “If you so much as spot a soup terrine, you’re free to leave.”

“Deal,” said the turtle.

We shook paws on it, and then we were off to find Gran and Scarlett.

Time to go home.

CHAPTER 25

To say that the reunion of the turtles was infused with emotion would be an understatement. From the moment we walked into the room with Rhett—or rather Gran, since she was the one doing the honors and carrying the tiny turtle—his brothers and sisters were gobsmacked, then ecstatic, and finally couldn’t wait to wrap their tiny paws around the little turtle.

“Such a good thing that we did, Max,” said Harriet.

“It is a good thing, isn’t it?” I said.

“It warms the cockles of this cat’s old heart,” said Brutus.

“Oh, but you’re not old, snookums,” Harriet assured him. “A little kitten with a big heart, that’s what you are.”

“Well, it certainly makes me feel that we did the right thing,” I said. “Even though technically it was probably an act of theft.”

“The turtle had run away,” said Brutus. “So we didn’t steal anything. He left of his own volition.”

“Actually, he escaped,” said Harriet, “because that horrible girl was going to flush him down the toilet. So what we did was save his life.”

“He saved himself,” said Brutus.

“Clarice saved him,” said Dooley.

He was absolutely right. Clarice was the one who deserved all the credit. If she hadn’t intervened, there would be no more Rhett. Unless he had somehow managed to survive being flushed down the toilet. There have been stories of turtles ending up in the sewer system and surviving down there and even thriving after mutating into ninja turtles, but I think it’s safe to say the chances of that happening to Rhett were probably slim.

All in all, we now had a full deck of turtles, so to speak. A full house. And even though we were all over the moon, and so were the turtles, the same couldn’t be said about Odelia and Chase, who had taken on the responsibility of caring for these turtles. Since they didn’t know the first thing about keeping turtles, I think they felt a little out of their depth.

Gran quickly assured them it wasn’t all that hard.

“Just feed them lettuce,” she said. “There are plenty of YouTube videos about it.”

“I’m so happy that Clarice has become more active again,” said Scarlett. “Thanks so much, you guys.”

“I just hope she won’t be recognized and that girl’s parents won’t press charges,” Chase grunted. We had told the whole story to Gran, who had shared it with her granddaughter and Chase. The latter wasn’t as impressed as we all were with Clarice’s initiative.

“Nobody will recognize her,” said Gran. “People can’t distinguish one cat from another, most of the time. And also, they were probably too busy licking their wounds to take much notice of who did what and when.”

“While I certainly don’t condone violence of any kind,” said Scarlett, “I feel that Clarice probably did the right thing when she gave that bully a taste of her own medicine.”

“As far as I know, Lacey has never actually caused physical harm to Jodie,” said Odelia. “Though it is certainly true that she caused her untold emotional and psychological harm, which is just as bad.” She held up her phone. “These are some of the videos Lacey posted.”

We all watched as a girl who looked a little off said all kinds of crazy stuff and did all kinds of crazy things.

“It’s all fake,” said Odelia. “They took Jodie’s face and turned it into a video.”

“Deepfake,” said Scarlett knowingly. “They do the same kind of stuff to celebrities sometimes. It’s not very nice, is it?”

“Some of these videos have been watched several thousand times,” said Odelia. She directed a pointed look at her husband.

“I’ll do what needs to be done to make sure these are taken offline,” he assured her. “Though to begin with, Jodie’s parents should file an official complaint. It would make things a lot easier for us to intervene.”

“We need to go and talk to these people,” said Odelia. “Convince them to file charges. And then we’ll take it from there. This,” she said, holding up her phone, “can’t be allowed to go on. This girl needs to see that this kind of behavior is way out of line.”

“Oh, she will see it now, I can assure you,” said Clarice with a fine smile.

“She probably won’t make the connection,” said Odelia. “She doesn’t know that you are trying to teach her a lesson, Clarice. All she will see is a cat attacking her in her own home.”

“And in the classroom,” said Clarice casually.

We all stared at her. “You attacked her in the classroom?”

“And I will keep attacking her every chance I get until she stops messing around with this poor kid’s head,” said Clarice.

“Be careful,” said Odelia. “Be very careful, Clarice. These people are well-connected—not to mention very rich. If they catch you…” She made a slicing motion across her throat, and we all gulped. All of us except Clarice, who didn’t seem phased in the slightest.

“They won’t catch me,” she said. “Nobody ever does.” She hopped onto the couch. “And now I’ll watch some television. Do you have the Nickelodeon channel?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t watch television anymore?” asked Dooley. “It’s probably not good for you, Clarice.”

“It might slow you down,” Harriet explained.

“And then they might catch you,” said Brutus.

“Like I said, nobody ever catches me,” she said with a yawn. “And now I want my television, please.”

And since we felt that she had probably earned it, Odelia turned on the television, and moments later Clarice was watching her favorite show, along with Grace, who had the same taste as Clarice.

“I think you did a good thing, Clarice,” said the little girl. “We should say no to bullies.”

“Okay, so who will ride with the watch tonight?” asked Gran. “We already have a pretty full car, so we don’t have a lot of space. But I can squeeze a couple of you in.”

“Who’s going along with you, Gran?” asked Odelia.

“Well, Benny Dowd is riding with us,” said Gran. “And also Marc Oldoland.”

“Benny Dowd, the ex-con?” asked Chase with a frown.

“Yeah, he wanted to enjoy the experience,” said Scarlett. “And also,” she added before Gran could stop her, “he’s going to give me several of those nice Plurtles.”

Chase’s frown deepened. “And how is he going to do that?”

“He said he got them off the back of a truck?” said Scarlett, a little uncertainly now that Gran gave her a poke in the ribs. Too late, for the fateful words had already been spoken.

Chase eyed Gran’s friend closely. “So Benny Dowd is going to give you several Plurtles that fell off the back of a truck, huh? And you didn’t think that was a little suspicious?”

“Especially in light of the fact that Leon Coutts died this morning,” Odelia added, “and all of his Plurtles were stolen from his hotel room by the last person to see him alive?”

“I was the last person to see him alive,” said Gran. “So there’s that. And how do you know the Plurtles Benny is referring to are the ones that were stolen from poor Mr. Coutts’s hotel room? They could be entirely different Plurtles altogether. I’ll be there’s lots of them.”

“It just seems like an awfully big coincidence, that’s all,” said Odelia. She turned to her husband. “I think we better have a little chat with Benny, babe.”

“I think you’re absolutely right,” he said, giving Gran a look that brooked no contest. “Don’t give him advance warning, all right? Or else he might turn skittish.”

Gran held up her hands. “I won’t tell him a single thing. But how will this look? I mean, we invite him to join the watch, and all of a sudden he’s being arrested by the police?”

“I’m not arresting him,” said Chase. “Yet.”

“Did he say when he was going to deliver those Plurtles?” asked Odelia.

“Um, no,” said Scarlett, who seemed to realize how her injudicious statements had jeopardized the deal she had struck with Benny. Now she might never be able to adorn her living room with those much-sought-after Plurtles.

Then again, if Benny really had stolen them from Leon Coutts, Scarlett probably should know better than to accept them.

“And what’s this about Marc Oldoland?” asked Odelia.

“Well, he said that suspicious activities were going on in his street,” said Gran, not so eager to spill the details of her watch activities now that one of her passengers that night was being eyed by Chase as a possible suspect in the theft of the Plurtles. “So we want to patrol his street and see what those crooks might be up to.”

“Is this about the van with the stolen plates?” asked Chase.

“That’s right.”

The cop nodded. “I might want to get in on that. I’ll arrange for a patrol car to be stationed discreetly on the street where Marc lives. If the van shows up, we’ll want to have a word with its driver.”

“Oh, this is just too much!” said Gran, stomping her foot. “You’re really muscling in on watch territory here, Chase.”

He gave her a curious look. “Isn’t it the other way around, Vesta? You and the watch shouldn’t encroach on police territory. Or am I mistaken in assuming that?”

“I guess you’re right,” she admitted. “But you have to agree we were first. I mean, Marc called it in, and the officer he spoke to wasn’t interested. Nobody took him seriously until we did.”

“You’re right,” said Chase. “And for that, I apologize. But now that we have established that the license plate on that van was stolen, we need to be proactive and chase down that driver.”

“Why don’t you work together?” Odelia suggested as she placed her hands on both her husband’s and her grandmother’s shoulders. “That way, we will all be better off.”

“I want to cooperate if you do,” said Gran.

“I guess it can’t hurt to cooperate,” said Chase.

“Okay, so how do we play this?” asked Gran.

Chase thought for a moment, then finally said, “Why don’t I ride with you guys?”

Gran didn’t seem convinced but finally had to give in. “Oh, all right. You can ride with the watch tonight, Chase. But just remember that I’m in charge, all right?”

“Nobody is in charge,” said Odelia. “You are both equal partners. Is that understood?”

“Fine,” said Gran reluctantly.

“Deal,” said Chase, with just as much reluctance.

“And what about us?” asked Harriet.

“What about you?” asked Odelia.

“Can we also ride with the watch tonight?”

Gran smiled. “Absolutely. The more, the merrier!” She clapped Chase on the back. “You can all sit on Chase’s lap!”

CHAPTER 26

The ride with the watch was one I did not want to miss, as it had all the hallmarks of being a historic occasion.

“Has Chase ever accompanied Gran on one of her outings?” asked Dooley.

“Never,” I said. “It’s a unique occasion, to be sure.”

“I think it’s going to be wonderful,” said Harriet. “It’s going to prove that Gran and Chase can work together. Or rather, the police department and the watch. And I also feel very strongly that this is the way it should be. They should always work together to fight crime and make Hampton Cove a better place to live.”

“I just wish it was so,” said Brutus. “But Uncle Alec won’t like it, that’s for sure.”

It was probably the reason Chase had decided not to inform his boss of this initiative. Uncle Alec isn’t all that big a fan of the watch and has, on more than one occasion, accused Gran of interfering with police work and sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.

“Sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong happens to be Gran’s superpower,” said Dooley.

And truer words had never been spoken.

The turtles were settling in all right, Clarice and Grace were enjoying their time on the couch in front of the television, bonding in their mutual dislike of bullies of any description, and generally the mood at the house was pretty mellow and convivial.

The only one who wasn’t in the best of moods was Scarlett, but then there was a reason for that.

“You don’t have to arrest Benny, do you, Chase?” she asked. “I mean, not before he has supplied me with the Plurtles he promised? I think they would look great on the shelf above my TV. Like so.” She had taken out her phone and showed him a mock-up she had put together of her living room with the addition of these much-coveted Plurtles. “Doesn’t it look absolutely wonderful? I’ve posted it on my Pinterest and everybody loved it.”

“It does look wonderful,” Chase admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you should encourage people like Benny to steal things and then offload them on you, Scarlett.”

“But I’m sure he didn’t actually steal them. I’m sure he wasn’t lying when he said that they fell off the back of a truck and he happened to be passing just when they did. Good things happen to good people and I happen to know that Benny is a good person.”

Chase gave her an ‘are you kidding me?’ look that shot right past Scarlett.

“And I think it’s very kind of him to share,” she added. “I would like all the different colors. And I do hope he doesn’t only have yellow ones, or only the red ones. I want one of each, you know. And I’m sure he’s got plenty of them so he can share with you guys also.” She turned to Odelia. “Wouldn’t you like some Plurtles, honey? I’ll bet they would do wonders for your book nook.”

Lately, Odelia had been preparing a book nook both for herself and for Grace when she was old enough to read.

“Book nooks should be filled with books,” said Chase. “Not stuff that was stolen from people like Leon Coutts.”

Scarlett seemed seriously disappointed, but then Odelia came to her rescue. “My dad is making a Plurtle. And I’m sure he won’t mind making one for you. How does that sound?”

It didn’t sound like much to Scarlett. That was clear from the expression of disappointment on her face. But since she is essentially a kind-hearted woman, she made an effort to show an interest. “Your dad is making a Plurtle?” she asked.

“Yeah, that’s right. In his garden house. It’s still very much hush-hush. It’s part of a competition that Leon Coutts must have launched before he passed away. It’s all over his social media. The person who wins the competition will have their Plurtle put on sale in the official Plurtle shop and stands to make a great deal of money from the proceeds.”

“Ted is also making one,” said Gran. “The two of them have been butting heads.”

“At least this time they’re engaged in an activity that Mom actually likes,” said Odelia. “She also adores those Plurtles, not like the gnomes that Dad used to collect, and also Ted.”

“Okay, so if your dad manages to create a Plurtle, put me down for one,” said Scarlett. If she couldn’t have the Plurtles that Benny had promised to provide, she might as well get one from Tex. At least he hadn’t stolen it or would get her into trouble with the law.

Moments later, I saw her sneak out to the house, and I had a feeling she wanted to take a closer look at the Plurtle that Tex was working on. Her curiosity must have been aroused.

The lady really was obsessed with those strange and colorful creations.

And since I’m a naturally curious kitty, I decided to go after her to see what she was up to.

She might be a member of the neighborhood watch, but I’m a member of the cat squad, and I feel it’s my duty to know what goes on in my neighborhood at all times. Not that I suspected Scarlett of having criminal designs, but you never know. People have sinned for less than the desire to own and possess a plastic turtle.

I followed her into the backyard of Tex and Marge’s house and saw her sneak up to the garden house.

Suddenly, a voice sounded behind me. “What is she up to, Max?”

I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Shhh, Dooley,” I said.

“Is Scarlett going to steal Tex’s Plurtle?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “But still, we’d better keep a close eye on her. I think she’s suffering from Plurtle fever.”

“What is Plurtle fever, Max?”

“It’s a fever that you can only cure by owning a unique plastic turtle,” I said. “A lot of people seem to be suffering from this disease lately, considering how many of those Plurtles are flying off the proverbial shelves.”

When Scarlett came out of the garden shed without a Plurtle in her arms, I breathed a sigh of relief. She might be suffering from Plurtle fever, but clearly the virus hadn’t affected her mental faculties to such an extent that she was prepared to go to any length to possess such a unique item.

But what she did next was not something I had expected: instead of returning to the house, she entered the backyard belonging to the Trappers. As we followed from a distance, we saw her sneaking into Ted’s garden shed. Moments later, she emerged, and this time she did have a Plurtle in her arms—the one that Ted must have been working on!

“Oh, dear,” I said.

“This isn’t good,” said Dooley.

And that was quite the understatement!

CHAPTER 27

That night, while we were in the car waiting for the mysterious van to show up, I found myself at a crossroads. Should I say something about the stolen Plurtle and risk Scarlett’s ire? Not to mention Clarice, of course, since she wouldn’t appreciate it if we exposed her human as a thief. Since I didn’t know what to do, I decided that for the moment I would do nothing and give the matter some more thought. With any luck, Scarlett’s conscience would start to give her trouble, and she might return the Plurtle of her own accord.

“Do you think we should tell Gran, Max?” Dooley whispered to me. Clearly, the whole business with the theft was preying on his mind as well.

“I think we better sit on this for a moment, Dooley,” I said. “We don’t want to upset the apple cart.”

He stared at me. “Did she steal an apple cart, too? I didn’t know that.”

“It’s just an expression, Dooley. It means we shouldn’t rock the boat.”

“She stole a whole boat! But when?”

“It’s all right, Dooley. Let’s just put a pin in it for now.”

He glanced around. “Where do we put the pin?”

“Just… leave it, okay?”

Marc Oldoland looked a little ill at ease sitting next to Chase. The same couldn’t be said about the cop, who was his usual stoic self.

“So where is Benny?” he asked.

“He didn’t show up,” said Gran.

“He must have changed his mind,” said Scarlett.

“Weren’t you supposed to meet him?”

“We were,” said Gran. “But he must have made other plans.”

The cop gave her a look of distinct suspicion. “You didn’t send him a message, did you? Warning him to stay away?”

“Of course not!” said Gran. “How could you even think such a thing? I would never do that.”

“Hmm,” said the cop, but he obviously didn’t believe a word Gran was saying.

“I hope this van shows up,” said Marc, who was an elderly man of rather stern aspect. I had never met him before, but Gran obviously had, for she spoke to him as to an old friend. But then Gran has lived in Hampton Cove all her life and knows a lot of people. Possibly she knows all the people, and they certainly know her.

“What were the two of you whispering about?” Brutus asked.

“Oh, nothing,” I said.

“About the apple cart,” said Dooley innocently. I shot him a look. “Or not,” he quickly added. “Maybe it was a boat, or it could have been a pin. Isn’t that right, Max?”

“What’s all this about an apple cart and a boat?” asked Harriet.

“Nothing,” I said. “It’s not important.” Soon, Dooley would give the whole thing away. He was giggling now, as he found it extremely exciting that he had a secret the others didn’t know about. And then, of course, he couldn’t help himself and whispered something into Harriet’s ear. I could tell from the way her whiskers shot up that he had just spilled the beans, as I should have known he would.

Next thing I knew, she was whispering in Brutus’s ear, and the latter gave me a look of astonishment. They both seemed extremely excited by this piece of information. But when I placed my paw on my lips in a bid to induce them to discretion, they nodded fervently.

And just when I thought they’d gotten the message, Harriet cleared her throat. “You’ve gotta love those Plurtles, haven’t you, Gran?”

Gran didn’t react, of course, since Marc was in the car, and the last thing she needed was for the big secret to come out that she could talk to her cats.

“They’re just a steal,” said Brutus before the two of them dissolved into a bout of giggles.

Oh, God, I thought. I was surrounded by a gaggle of children.

“Look, why don’t you call Benny now?” Chase suggested, “and tell him to meet us here as soon as he can. And to bring those Plurtles along with him,” he added cleverly.

Gran didn’t seem all that eager to carry out the cop’s instructions, for she made no move to take out her phone. “I’m sure he’s busy,” she said.

“Or send him a message. Tell him that Scarlett can’t wait to get her hands on the goods.”

“That’s true enough,” said Scarlett. “And I want them in all the different colors.” Like a collector, she needed to have one of each.

“Okay, fine,” said Gran. And so she sent a message to Benny. Or at least it looked as if she did. But when Chase suddenly snatched the phone from her hands, he said, “What’s this? One cup cooked and cubed ham, three cups chopped fresh spinach, one cup crumbled feta cheese?”

Gran gave him a sheepish look. “I forgot that I still needed to send that message to Marge about the quiche she has been wanting to prepare. She asked me to ask around at the senior center. We have a master quiche maker there, and Marge wanted the recipe.”

“Text Benny,” said Chase. But then he figured he had a better idea. “I’ll do it,” he said.

“No!” Gran cried and tried to grab her phone back. But of course, Chase held it out of reach. It also meant that he couldn’t type the message he wanted to send. There was a short tussle, and then finally Gran cried, “Okay, all right! I told him not to come, all right?”

“I knew it!” said Chase.

“He just got out of jail, and I don’t want him to get into trouble again. He’s one of Francis Reilly’s charges, you see.”

“He’s in this rehabilitation program that Francis created for ex-cons,” said Scarlett. “And it would kill Francis if he knew that Benny had fallen off the wagon.”

“He did not fall off the wagon,” said Gran adamantly. “I’m sure that those Plurtles really did fall off a truck and happened to land right in Benny’s arms.”

“A likely story,” said Chase. “Look, I don’t want Benny to get in trouble either, but it seems to me he got himself into trouble. And if that’s the case, he needs to know he can’t do this kind of thing. The best way to help Benny is to put a stop to this nonsense before it gets out of hand. Dealing in stolen goods is one thing, but as we all know, one thing leads to another, and before you know it, he’ll be up to his eyebrows in some really serious stuff.”

“Okay, fine,” said Gran. “Let me have my phone. I’ll text him to meet us here.”

“Look!” said Marc suddenly. The old man hadn’t participated in the conversation or the tussle over the phone, but he had kept his eyes peeled like any good member of the watch should. He was pointing to a dark van that had entered the street and was driving towards us. “It’s him! It’s the van!”

Looks like we were in business!

CHAPTER 28

Ididn’t think I’d ever been so nervous about apprehending a suspect as I was in that moment. Quick as a flash, Chase opened the car door and crouched behind the vehicle, carefully monitoring the approaching van.

The driver had doused the lights and was slowly creeping along the street, careful not to attract attention. Clearly, this was as suspicious as it got, and Marc Oldoland, who had been the one to spot the van the first time, was so pale I thought he was going to faint. For him, this was also a new situation—one that he had never been in before.

“You see this kind of thing on television,” he said nervously. “But when it happens for real, it’s quite a different thing.”

“You bet it is,” said Gran, a veteran of many neighborhood watch campaigns. She didn’t seem troubled in the slightest. Scarlett followed the van closely, and I could tell from her body posture she was like a coiled spring, ready to move into action at a moment’s notice.

In that sense, the four of us were very different. Frankly, I hoped that it would all be a false alarm. A delivery van looking for the right house to deliver the pizza that someone had ordered. But why would a pizza courier drive around in a van with stolen plates? That didn’t make a lot of sense. So, Chase’s estimation that this person was up to no good was probably a more accurate depiction of reality.

“Don’t. Move. A. Muscle,” the cop warned from his crouched position. “Don’t even breathe until I tell you to. Is that understood? One hint that we’re here, and he’ll skedaddle. And we’ll never be able to catch him in this piece of junk.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know this is your mother-in-law’s prized possession,” said Gran.

“I’ll tell her to invest in a decent set of wheels,” the cop grunted.

Gran shared a look of triumph with her friend. “We’ve been trying to tell people that for years! The watch is nothing without a decent set of wheels!” said Gran.

“Yeah, we should have a van like that,” said Scarlett. “Or maybe even a power truck. That way we could really do some damage.”

The van’s driver, unaware that his every move was being monitored, crept ever closer to where Gran had parked—right across the street from Marc Oldoland’s place. The moment he drew level with us, he stopped, and we all held our breaths as Chase had indicated. For a few tense moments, nothing happened. Then the van finally swerved to the side of the road and parked. The driver’s side door opened, and a man got out. It was impossible to see him as he was obscured by the van, and Chase uttered a silent curse.

“I knew we should have parked further up the street,” he murmured.

“Maybe we can sneak across and take a closer look?” Gran suggested.

“Too risky,” Chase determined. “If he sees us, he’ll be out of here, and we will have missed our opportunity to catch him in the act. No, we sit tight and see what happens.”

“Or won’t see what happens, more precisely,” said Gran.

“He’s going to burgle my house, isn’t he?” said Marc. “I knew it. And Rafi is in there.”

“Who’s Rafi again?” asked Gran.

“My Chihuahua. I wanted him to join us tonight but in the end figured he’d better not. Rafi has a nervous bladder and he might pee all over the car.”

“No, we don’t want that,” said Gran determinedly. “This car may be a junker, but that doesn’t mean I want a dog peeing all over it.”

I think I spoke for all of us when I told Gran that she was quite right. The last thing we needed was a dog with a nervous bladder peeing all over the backseat—and on us, for that matter. I like dogs, I really do, but I can do without them peeing all over me.

A cigarette was being lit up across the street, the red dot visible through the window of the van, and before long, the driver appeared, and we got our first view of him. He was a swarthy individual I had never seen before, with an unruly mop of curly dark hair.

“Who is he?” asked Scarlett.

“No idea,” said Gran. “Chase?”

“Never seen him before,” said the cop.

“I think he’s a pizza delivery man,” said Dooley, confirming the view I’d been adhering to for the most part. “And he’s waiting to get confirmation on where to deliver his pizza.”

“Pizza delivery guys don’t creep around like this,” said Harriet. “And they certainly don’t drive around in stolen vehicles.”

“We don’t know if the vehicle is stolen,” I said. “Just the license plate.”

“I stand corrected,” she said with a touch of irritation. She doesn’t like to be corrected, especially over such a minor detail.

“Do you want us to sneak across the street and take a closer look at the guy?” asked Brutus.

I could have told him this was not a good idea, but then Brutus has always suffered from something called the hero complex. It involves regular folks suddenly getting this inexplicable urge to act like a hero and getting in plenty of trouble over it.

“Yeah, I guess that’s not such a bad idea,” said Gran. “But maybe not all four of you. One or two would suffice. And not Harriet either. She draws too much attention to herself. You go, Brutus, and take…” Her eyes darted across the rest of us. “Take Max with you.”

“Oh, and Max doesn’t draw attention to himself?” asked Harriet, deeply insulted by Gran’s choice.

“Let’s go, Max,” said Brutus. “We have our orders.”

“But…” I weakly protested. “Maybe Harriet is right, and I stand out too much?”

“Let’s just go,” Brutus urged.

And since I didn’t see much I could suggest in the way of arguments, I sighed and left the car along with Brutus.

“The important part is not to be seen,” said the big black cat. “And spook the crook.”

“Don’t spook the crook,” I said. “Gotcha.” It seemed like a reasonable suggestion. I still didn’t quite understand why I was feeling so unnerved by this whole set-up. I’d been in worse situations. I’d been kidnapped, confronted with murderers, thieves, burglars and drug dealers of every description. But this guy? For some reason, he creeped me out.

“I think he’s a very dangerous individual, Brutus,” I whispered.

“And I think he’s just a crook looking for an opportunity to sneak into one of these houses and abscond with their laptops, television, and whatever other valuables he can find. In other words, your garden-variety burglar.”

We had reached the car parked directly in front of the van and stuck our heads out carefully to take a closer look at the crook in question. He was still smoking his cigarette and didn’t seem to have a care in the world. If he was a burglar, he was taking his time to get down to business.

“What do you think he’s up to?” I asked. “He doesn’t look as if he’s eager to break into Marc’s place.”

“Probably waiting to see if the coast is clear,” said Brutus.

“Or he could simply be a pizza delivery guy, like Dooley said.”

Brutus laughed a rasping laugh. “As if! No, this guy is up to no good.”

I studied the man’s face. He had a sort of scar that sliced through his right eyebrow, giving him a slightly menacing aspect, and he had the kind of cold eyes that you don’t like to encounter in a dark alley at night, or even on a regular street like this.

Suddenly, the man’s phone chimed softly, and he picked it up. “What’s taking so long?” he demanded. “I’ve been waiting half an hour.”

“He hasn’t been waiting half an hour,” I said. “He’s lying, Brutus.”

“For a crook, time is a relative concept,” he said.

“What does that even mean?” I asked.

“No idea. I read it somewhere. Reader’s Digest, I believe.”

“You read Reader’s Digest?”

“In the bathroom. You should try it. It’s very relaxing.”

“Okay, fine,” said the guy as he glanced around. After he hung up, he dropped his cigarette and ground it out with the heel of his very nicely styled boot. Then he got back into his van and fired it up. Moments later, he was pulling away, much to Brutus’s dismay.

“He’s getting away, Max! He’s getting away from us!”

“Let’s head back to the car,” I suggested.

“Or wait. He’s parked again. Let’s head over there to see what he’s up to.”

He was right. The crook had parked again, this time a couple of houses further down the street. He got out and this time headed up to the house in question. As Brutus and I snuck underneath the parked cars, covering the distance from Marc Oldoland’s house to the van, we saw that our wannabe hoodlum had more luck this time. The door of the house had been opened by an equally sinister-looking individual, and a garage door was opened. A second dark van backed out of the garage, then onto the street, and drove off.

Before long, our quarry drove his van into the garage, taking the space the previous van had deserted.

The garage door closed again, and all went quiet.

“Odd,” said Brutus. “Looks like he’s not a burglar after all.”

“Unless the guy inside the house is his associate,” I said. “And he’s already done the hard part by collecting all the loot and preparing it for transport. Now all they need to do is load the stuff into these vans, one after the other.” In other words, a well-oiled operation.

“Possible,” said Brutus. Then he got a bright idea. “Let’s sneak around the back and see what they’re up to, Max.”

And before I could offer an alternative suggestion, like returning to the car and informing Chase of what was going on, he had already snuck off, and since I didn’t want to leave my friend unprotected, I had no other recourse but to follow him on this crazy mission—one that hadn’t even been sanctioned by Chase, I might add, or even Gran.

We rounded the house and found ourselves in a backyard. A lot of activity was taking place there that didn’t seem congruent with the fact that we were essentially on a quiet street in a quiet part of town. Half a dozen men carried boxes from a large structure that had been erected in the backyard to the van, which had been driven through the garage and had popped out the other side, its back doors open and being loaded with the boxes.

“Chase should see this,” said Brutus.

“Maybe we should go back and tell him what’s going on,” I suggested.

“Let’s just make sure we know what it is they’re up to,” said Brutus. “For all we know, this could all be something entirely innocent and above board.”

For some reason, these mysterious activities didn’t strike me as innocent and above board. But since Brutus was on a roll, he suddenly streaked off in the direction of the large boxy structure. I reluctantly followed. As we hunkered down near the side of the structure, Brutus saw that a plastic water barrel had been positioned there, presumably to collect rainwater. He hopped on top of it and peered in through the window.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “Max, get up here! You’ve got to see this!”

With some effort, I joined him on the barrel. When I looked in through the window, I saw that a sort of lab had been installed there. Plenty more people were busy with some kind of science experiment. They were doing all kinds of complicated-looking things with test tubes and flasks and weighing scales and liquids. When I looked closer, I saw that stacks and stacks of familiar-looking objects had been placed on side tables. From time to time, they’d pick one up and subject it to whatever experiment they were carrying out.

The objects in question were... Plurtles!

CHAPTER 29

“Are those Plurtles?” asked Brutus.

“They look like Plurtles to me,” I said.

“Maybe this is the place where they make them? I mean, they have to make them somewhere, right? The guy who fell from his balcony⁠—”

“Or was pushed.”

“—designed the stuff, and then someone else made them and got them into the stores. Isn’t that how it usually works?”

We both eyed the frantic activity in the laboratory, and it struck me that Brutus might have a point. Then again, why did it take so many of these people to make these Plurtles if Leon Coutts could simply print them on his 3D printer? “Those boxes,” I said. “We probably should take a closer look at what’s in them.”

“Now you’re talking, Maxie baby!” said Brutus. “That’s exactly what we should do. Before we tell Chase what’s going on in here, we better be sure. Imagine if he decided to barge in here, guns blazing, and it turns out to be an innocent Plurtle workshop.”

And continuing in the same gung-ho way he’d been acting all evening, he jumped down from the barrel and disappeared around the corner.

I was relegated to playing second fiddle again, hurrying after him.

“Brutus!” I hissed once I had caught up with him. “Be careful. If they catch us…”

“Oh, I am careful,” he assured me. “And besides, who’s going to look twice at a couple of innocent kitties snooping around? I mean, that’s what people expect us to do. Cats are always snooping around looking for food and whatnot.”

We both eyed the van and waited for the perfect moment to strike, as it were. The driver stood to the side, checking his phone, while a couple of others loaded the van with boxes.

“Now!” said Brutus all of a sudden, and raced to the van, jumped in, and took a peek inside one of the boxes. He must not have liked what he saw, for he made a face.

The driver looked up, and when he saw Brutus, yelled, “Hey! Get lost, you mongrel!”

“It’s Mr. Mongrel to you,” said Brutus indignantly, but did as he was told and jumped from the van.

“Let’s go, Max,” he said. “I’ve seen enough.”

“What did you see?” I asked, glad that we had made it out of there with our lives.

“Not sure,” he said. “But it sure as heck isn’t Plurtles.”

“What did it look like?” I asked.

“Well, bags of some kind of white powder,” he said.

“Drugs, you think?”

“Could be sugar,” he suggested. “Or flour.”

We shared a look, then both shook our heads. “Nah,” I said.

“Nah,” he agreed.

We made it back to Gran’s car, where our humans were still waiting impatiently for our return. The moment we got there, we relayed the story of our campaign—our incursion into the enemy’s compound—and Gran agreed it was highly unlikely those bags contained sugar or white flour.

“Drugs, most likely,” said Chase, once Gran had updated him on the state of our investigation.

“But how do those Plurtles factor into this?” asked Gran.

“I can’t believe they’ve got a stash of Plurtles in there,” said Scarlett, her eyes shining at the thought of dozens of the coveted objects being so close and yet so out of reach.

“I’m not sure,” said Chase. “Though there has to be a connection.” He turned to Brutus and me. “So you’re saying that there was a stack of Plurtles, and a bunch of guys busy doing some kind of science experiment?”

We both nodded. “That’s what we saw,” said Brutus earnestly.

“It’s the truth and nothing but the truth, your honor,” I said.

“We better call in reinforcements,” said Chase, and took out his phone. “Before they get a chance to get away.”

As he talked to Uncle Alec on the phone and explained the situation, Gran pointed to a man walking down the street. “There he is,” she said.

It was Benny Dowd, and he was heading our way.

“Looks like he made it after all,” said Scarlett.

“Is that your friend?” asked Marc.

“Yeah, that’s Benny,” said Gran. “He was supposed to join us tonight, but I guess he had something else going on.”

“Good thing you sent him that message,” said Scarlett.

Gran frowned. “That’s odd.”

“What is?”

“Well, I never did send him that message. I was going to, but then this van showed up and I totally forgot about Benny altogether.”

“Did you tell him to meet us here?”

“I did, but I figured he’d totally forgotten about it.”

As we watched, we saw that Benny wasn’t heading in our direction at all. Instead, he walked right past us and up to the house where the suspicious activity was taking place.

“I don’t understand,” said Gran. “Now where is he going?”

Scarlett placed a hand on her arm. “I think that maybe Benny hasn’t been entirely honest with us when he said that he had left the life of crime behind, hon.”

“But… he’s not involved with this Plurtle business, is he? I mean, he can’t be. We asked him about it, and he promised us that he wasn’t involved with the death of that poor man.”

“Benny has been known to lie before,” Scarlett reminded her.

“Oh, dear. Francis won’t like this. He said that Benny was the greatest success story of his rehabilitation project so far.”

“I’ve seen that guy before,” said Marc.

“Benny?”

“Yeah. He’s been coming here for several weeks. Always dropping by that house.”

“Do you know who lives there?” asked Gran.

“No idea. It was empty for years after the previous owner died. He didn’t have any family and didn’t leave a will, so for the longest time it wasn’t clear what would happen to the place. Then, six months ago, suddenly new owners moved in, but I haven’t really seen much of them. A young couple, from what I could tell. They’ve kept themselves very much to themselves and haven’t really made an effort to get to know their neighbors.”

“There’s probably a reason for that,” said Scarlett.

“I figured Benny was a relative of some kind, you know. Like maybe a brother or something? He’s in there so often that, for a while, I thought he’d moved in.”

“No, Benny doesn’t live here,” said Gran. “He lives not far from St. John’s Church. Francis arranged an apartment for him back when he was first released from prison.”

Chase had finished his call and announced, “The cavalry is coming. Alec thinks that maybe this could be a drug lab.”

“A drug lab?” asked Gran. “What is a drug lab?”

“It’s a place where drugs are refined or turned into a marketable product. The raw material comes into the country in some form, and has to be cut up and turned into a product that can be sold on the street in the form of powder or pills or whatever.”

“Are they going to raid the place?” asked Scarlett.

“That’s the idea. It might take a while. Alec is handing this over to the DEA. They will need to call in a Special Response Team, as these are potentially hardened criminals.”

“Benny Dowd is in there,” said Gran.

“Yeah, I saw him,” said Chase. “Do you think he’s involved?”

“Has to be,” said Marc. “The guy practically lives there.” He seemed thoroughly discombobulated to discover that someone had organized a drug lab on his street. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Why would anyone set up a drug lab in a quiet neighborhood like this?”

“This is exactly the kind of neighborhood these gangs will pick. Because they can stay under the radar.” He turned to Gran. “Alec told me to make sure there are no civilians on the scene, so that means you all need to get out before the hammer comes down.”

“But what about the other people on this block?” asked Marc. “They won’t be getting any advance warning.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t do anything to alert them, as it would also alert the people in that building, and we won’t be able to catch them.”

He nodded. “Well, I guess we better get out of here before the shit hits the fan.”

Gran and Scarlett didn’t seem to agree. “I think we should stick around,” said Gran. “Just in case this SWAT team needs our help. After all, we know this neighborhood a lot better than they do.”

“Alec said to clear out,” said Chase emphatically.

“Alec isn’t here,” Gran argued. “You are. So the way I see it, you’re the officer in charge, Chase. And if you say that the neighborhood watch needs to be on hand to provide support, your word goes.”

“I agree with Alec on this one, Vesta. No civilians on the scene. So let’s go.”

“Oh, all right,” said Gran, but it wasn’t with much excitement that she made to follow her son and Chase’s orders.

She was about to turn the ignition when Chase placed his large hand over hers. “No car. We walk out of here. And we keep our heads down as much as we can so as not to attract any attention. Now let’s go!”

And so we all did as we were told and headed away from the drug lab, making sure we were as inconspicuous as possible. We probably would have made it out if I hadn’t looked back and seen that Scarlett was returning to the car—then to the house across the street.

The four of us watched as she darted across the street and disappeared from view. And since Gran is of the opinion not to leave a woman behind, she, too, doubled back.

For a moment, we didn’t know what to do, but since we didn’t feel it was fair to leave these two older ladies to their own devices, we also returned to our steps.

“Hey!” Chase said when he finally discovered that he had lost a significant portion of his ‘civilians.’ “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m sorry, Chase,” I said. “But we can’t leave Gran!”

The cop cursed under his breath, then ordered Marc to keep going until he reached the next street, and then joined us.

“I know I’m going to regret this,” he growled. “In fact, I’m already regretting it now!”

CHAPTER 30

“Scarlett!” Vesta hissed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I want those Plurtles!” said her friend. “I need those Plurtles!”

“Are you nuts? You’re actually willing to risk your life for a stupid Plurtle?”

“Yes!” Scarlett cried desperately as she stumbled forward in those high heels of hers.

Vesta had lost count of how many times she had told her friend that she should wear something more appropriate for their outings with the watch. But of course, Scarlett wouldn’t listen. She didn’t want to listen to reason now, with her newfound obsession with those Plurtles.

“I don’t need a lot of them,” said Scarlett. “Maybe two or three—or a dozen.”

They were hurrying in the direction of the house where the alleged drug lab was located, and Vesta didn’t think Chase would like it. But then there was no stopping Scarlett. And if she couldn’t stop her friend, at least she could make sure she didn’t run into any kind of trouble. These drug mafia people weren’t the nicest people around and probably wouldn’t hesitate to drill a couple of holes in them—and not the fun kind of holes either!

Behind her, four cats tried to keep up, and when Vesta looked a little further back, she thought she even saw Chase giving chase!

Oh, dear. This wasn’t good!

“We have to get back. Before we land ourselves in the middle of some kind of war!”

“I know, but first I need to grab a couple of Plurtles,” Scarlett insisted. “Will you help me?”

“Aaargh!” she groaned. But since friendship was important to her, she didn’t see another option but to say yes.

“Gran!” yelled Dooley. “What’s going on?”

She didn’t want to wake up the whole street—or alert the attention of those drug dealers—so she didn’t respond. Instead, she followed Scarlett as she hunkered down behind a low wall in front of the house in question, then hurried around the house and for a moment paused to scan the scene.

Vesta, who was right behind her friend, hissed, “If we get caught, it’s all your fault!”

“The coast is clear,” said Scarlett, and the two friends hurried to the large structure in the backyard that Brutus and Max had said was where those Plurtles were to be found.

With some help from Vesta, Scarlett clambered on top of a rainwater barrel and peered in through a small window.

“I see them!” she cried jubilantly. “Dozens and dozens of them! Oh, how gorgeous they are!”

“Get down here, you fool,” urged Vesta.

Scarlett managed to make her way down again, and the two friends paused for a moment to figure out how best to proceed. They had to hurry, for at any moment Chase would catch up with them and drag them both out of there, kicking and screaming if that’s what it took.

“Let’s go around the back,” she suggested.

They trotted around the makeshift drug laboratory, which was made of wood and potentially not impervious to an incursion by two experienced and dedicated members of the watch. The back was pretty solid wood, though, with no doors or windows to offer access. They were just wondering how to proceed when the detective appeared.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded heatedly. “Let’s go!”

He was pointing in the direction of the backyard adjacent to the one they were in.

“I need my Plurtles!” said Scarlett, sounding more and more like a petulant child.

“No Plurtles!” Chase said curtly. “Now let’s get out of here before the troops arrive!”

Suddenly a man rounded the corner. He was obviously eager to have a bathroom break and was already making the necessary adjustments to his lower costume to assist in such an endeavor.

It was none other than Benny, and he looked extremely surprised to see them.

“Oh, Vesta,” he said. “Scarlett.” He thunked his head. “God, I totally forgot! I was supposed to ride with you guys tonight, wasn’t I? But when he saw Chase, the smile that had started to form on his lips was instantly wiped away. Obviously, the man was no big fan of the police. “Detective Kingsley,” he said soberly.

Chase’s face displayed a tense grimace. “Benny.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. Memory like a sieve. So what are you guys up to?”

“Oh, just hanging out,” said Vesta. “Checking that suspicious van, remember?”

Benny frowned, then brightened. “Oh, right. The suspicious van. So have you found it?”

“We have,” said Vesta. “In fact it’s right over there, parked behind this big-ass shed.”

Benny was nodding. “Sweet,” he said, obviously not the sharpest tool in the box.

“I want a Plurtle, Benny,” said Scarlett. “You said you could get me a Plurtle. Where is my Plurtle?”

Benny laughed. “Hold your horses, Scarlett. Eager much, are we?”

“I think it’s best if we leave Benny to do his business,” said Chase, “and we’ll continue our patrol elsewhere.”

“Oh, so you’re a member of the watch now, are you, detective? Did you get canned?”

“I didn’t get canned,” said Chase. “I’m simply lending a helping hand to what I consider to be a very important project for our local community.”

“Very good of you,” said Benny. He squeezed his legs together. “I don’t want to rush you guys or anything, but like the detective said, I do have some unfinished business here.”

“Do your thing, Benny,” said Chase magnanimously. “Don’t let us keep you.”

“But what about my Plurtles?” Scarlett demanded.

Benny grinned. “They’re something else, aren’t they? I have to say they appealed to me the moment I laid eyes on them. I’ve got a couple—they brighten up the home, don’t they?”

“Can you get me some, Benny?” Scarlett begged. “I need them in my life. I really do.”

“Scarlett!” Vesta said. “Get a grip on yourself, woman!”

“But it’s true. I didn’t know I needed them as much as I do now.”

“Sure I’ll hook you up,” said Benny. “If you wait out here a moment, I’ll get you a couple. But first…”

“Oh, right,” said Vesta, and turned around so Benny could ‘take care of business.’ Dutifully, Scarlett and Chase also turned around, and so did the cats. Chase didn’t seem to be in a good mood, as he was grinding his teeth something fierce. And so, as Benny did what he needed to do, they all waited more or less patiently.

“Ah, that’s such a relief,” said the former crook finally. “Okay, wait here, Scarlett. I’ll be back in a sec.”

And so they waited, with Chase giving Scarlett looks that should have killed if she hadn’t been impervious to any nasty looks due to her newfound addiction to all things Plurtle. It wasn’t long before Benny finally returned. He was carrying a box filled with Plurtles and handed it to Scarlett with a big grin. “Here,” he said. “You deserve it. For all that you’ve done for our community so far? I’d say you more than deserve it.”

“Ooh, Benny!” she cried, over the moon with this little haul. “You’re the best!” She planted a big kiss on the man’s lips, which made him see stars for a moment.

“You’re welcome,” he said finally, once he had recovered sufficiently and refound his balance. “Always happy to assist a fellow Plurtle fan. And now you better get out of here.”

“And why’s that, Benny?” asked Chase.

“Because…” He seemed doubtful for a moment, but your resourceful ex-con, or present con, always knows how to dig himself out of a hole. “Because you have to continue patrolling the streets! Keep Hampton Cove safe for democracy, you know. Or whatever.”

“How about you join us, Benny?” said Vesta, who couldn’t help but have a soft spot for the guy. After all, he had helped them out on a previous occasion and had been instrumental in dealing with the little problem they had faced then. “We need a man of your… astuteness.”

“You know I’d love to, Vesta,” said the guy. “But I’m afraid…”

“Prior engagement, huh?”

“Exactly!” he said, cocking his index finger at her. Walking backward, he gave them his best grin once more, and then he was gone.

“Too bad,” said Vesta. “Next time we see him will probably be through the iron bars of his cell.”

“Or at the morgue,” Chase added gruffly.

Vesta gulped, and since she could already imagine the SWAT team swarming the area, she decided now was a good time to urge Scarlett to make a quick getaway. They headed in the direction Chase had indicated: through the backyard of the next-door neighbor, and then out to the street. For a while, nothing happened, and then, all of a sudden, there were loud bangs and voices screaming, tearing the silent fabric of the night to pieces.

The big operation had begun.

CHAPTER 31

“You shouldn’t have done that, Scarlett!” Gran cried.

“Why not? It’s just a couple of Plurtles,” said Scarlett.

We had managed to reach the next street when the raid began, and I was glad not to be there for the main event. We’d only get in the way of the people with the guns and might even catch a stray bullet in the gizzard, a stun grenade in the snoot, or other means of making the bad guys think twice about putting up any resistance.

“Scarlett looks happy, doesn’t she, Max?” said Dooley.

“She certainly does,” I agreed.

“Now she has enough Plurtles to decorate her entire apartment a couple of times over,” said Harriet.

Chase was on the phone again, and it soon became clear why. A pickup truck that looked familiar drove up and squealed to a stop right in front of us. The door opened, and I saw that Odelia was behind the wheel. “Hop in!” she said.

And so we hopped in.

“I didn’t think it was a good idea to go back for your car,” Chase explained to Gran. “Seeing as it’s in the middle of what might very well be a war zone by now.”

“I hope it doesn’t get damaged,” said Gran with a frown of concern.

“I’ve got Plurtles,” Scarlett announced happily.

Odelia glanced over at the box Scarlett was holding. “Where did you get those?”

“Benny gave them to me,” said Scarlett, who held on to the box for dear life. “He’s such a sweetheart, isn’t he? He knew how much I wanted them and so he delivered.”

“He certainly did,” said Gran. “But I still think it was extremely reckless of you to go back there, honey. Putting us in the line of fire, so to speak.”

“Oh, I knew Chase wouldn’t allow his friends to start shooting until we had cleared the area,” said Scarlett.

“You went back for those Plurtles even though you knew a raid was about to take place?” asked Odelia.

“Well, Chase was in contact with the raid people, weren’t you, Chase?”

Chase shook his head. “Vesta is right. It was an extremely reckless thing to do.”

Scarlett’s face sagged. “So… we could have been shot?”

“We could have been shot,” Chase confirmed.

“Oops,” said Scarlett. But then she cast a look at her beloved Plurtles and cheered up again. “Well, it was worth it,” she finally determined, causing Chase to roll his eyes.

“I hope she will share her haul,” said Harriet. “I think Odelia would also like to have a few Plurtles in her home, and also Marge.”

“I very much doubt that Scarlett will be sharing,” I said. “She seems determined to hang on to her Plurtles and never let go.”

“Well, that’s very selfish of her,” said Harriet.

Brutus cleared his throat. “Does anyone know what happened to Marc Oldoland?”

We all turned to look at him.

Gran, who had also overheard our friend’s remark, brought a startled hand to her mouth. “I totally forgot about him!”

“Forgot about who?” asked Chase.

“Marc! What happened to him?”

“I told him to keep walking until he reached the next block,” said the detective. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“I better give him a call,” said Gran and took out her phone. Marc picked up on the first ring. “Marc!” she cried. “Are you all right?”

She pressed the speaker button, and Marc’s voice echoed through the car loud and clear. “I hope they’re not going to shoot up my house!”

“They won’t shoot up your house, Marc!” Chase spoke into the phone. “They have strict instructions to focus on the drug lab.”

“When can I go home, do you think, detective?”

“As soon as the team that has cordoned off the street gives the all-clear.”

“And when will that be? I would like to go home at some point, you know. I can’t walk the streets all night. Plus, I need to walk Rafi. Did I mention he’s got a nervous bladder?”

“Yes, you mentioned the bladder,” Gran assured him. “And I’m sure Rafi will be fine.”

“I guess,” said Marc dubiously. “I do have a pet flap, so he can use the backyard.”

“Why don’t you come with us?” Gran suggested, drawing a curious look from Odelia. “Can you turn the car around, Odelia? We need to pick up Marc.”

“Okay, I guess that’s one solution,” said Odelia, though she didn’t seem to think it was necessarily the best solution.

“Our house is filling up nicely,” said Brutus. “First those six turtles, and now this homeless man.”

“He’s not homeless, honey,” said Harriet.

“He will be if they blow up his house.”

“They’re not going to blow up his house,” I said. At least I hoped they wouldn’t. These raids are a funny thing. They start in a controlled way with a very definite purpose in mind, but they can quickly get out of hand if things don’t go according to plan.

Odelia had returned to the street where the drug lab was located, and also Marc’s house, and we soon found the man loitering on a street corner—if loitering is the word I’m looking for. He was glad to see us and hopped in the car when Odelia invited him to.

“It’s getting chilly out,” he said as he rubbed his shoulders. “Look, you don’t have to do this, Mrs. Kingsley. I mean, I can wait it out. This raid won’t last for hours, will it?”

“It can last hours,” said Chase. “It all depends on how much resistance the team encounters.”

“Oh, boy,” said Marc. “And to think this all started with me seeing that van this morning.”

“If it hadn’t been for eagle-eyed Marc, we would never have caught these people,” said Gran, patting the man on the back.

Marc looked pleased with this expression of appreciation from the leader of the watch. “I don’t want drug labs on my street,” he said. “I don’t think that’s too much to ask, is it?”

“I don’t think anybody wants a drug lab on their street,” said Odelia. “I know I don’t want one on mine either.”

We had arrived home, and when we entered the house, we saw that Clarice was still on the couch, watching television with Grace. Tex and Marge were asleep right next to them. The little girl and the cat were wide awake, though, and were happy to see us.

“Who is that man?” asked Grace.

“That is Marc.,” said Gran. “And he will be staying with us tonight.”

“Oh, fine,” she said. Probably she had gotten used to it by now that our house was a sort of refuge for all kinds of species, whether of the turtle variety or the human.

“Look at this, Grace,” said Scarlett, placing her box of Plurtles on the coffee table.

Grace was in awe as she pawed at the colorful turtles. “Ooh, they’re so pretty!” she said. “Are they all yours, Auntie Scarlett?”

“They sure are,” said Scarlett. She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Okay, you can pick one. But only one, you hear?” She smiled. “Which one would you like?”

Immediately, Grace picked out a nice pink one and clutched it to her chest. “I like pink,” she announced. And that was probably an understatement, as her clothes were all pink, her bracelet was pink, her teddy bear was pink, and so was the wallpaper that Chase had selected for her room and which he had been busy putting up lately.

“Okay, you can have it,” said Scarlett magnanimously. Then she picked up the box again and held it close to her own chest. “And these are for me,” she said, in case anyone else thought they could pick a Plurtle. “All mine.”

“I’ll drop you and Clarice off at home,” said Odelia.

“Thanks, honey,” said Scarlett.

They left the room, and then Chase picked up his daughter and carried her up the stairs. “It’s way past your bedtime, young lady,” he said when she started protesting. “Way, way past. What were your grandparents thinking, huh?”

Those grandparents were rubbing the sleep from their eyes and yawning. “What time is it?” asked Marge. And when she was told by her mother, she added, “Oh, shoot. I must have fallen asleep.”

“You and me both,” said Tex.

They got up from the couch, and along with Gran, decided that it was way past their bedtime, too.

At that moment, there was some kind of altercation outside. A man had appeared and was peering in through the sliding glass door.

“You took it!” he was yelling. “I know it was you!”

It was Ted Trapper, and he looked a little agitated.

CHAPTER 32

“You stole my Plurtle,” Ted said, pressing his index finger into Tex’s collarbone. “Admit it!”

“I did no such thing,” said Tex. Even though he had been sleepy before, he was wide awake now.

“What’s going on, Ted?” asked Marge.

“My Plurtle is gone!” Ted said. “It was there this evening—I had been working on it—and then when I couldn’t sleep and decided to work on it some more, it was gone! Nowhere to be found.”

“Okay, so first you accuse me of stealing your turtle,” said Tex, “and now…”

Ted’s eyes had traveled to the turtle cage, where six turtles were enjoying a pleasant time. Ted’s jaw dropped a couple of inches. “But… but… but… that… that’s my turtle!”

“It’s a turtle, Ted,” said Gran, feeling that she should probably intervene before things got out of hand. “Not your turtle.”

“I’d recognize my turtle anywhere,” the accountant insisted. “And that is clearly my turtle.” An expression of loathing came over him. “You’re a liar, Tex Poole. First you steal my turtle, and now you steal my Plurtle, and all the while you lie and lie and lie!”

Chase must have heard the commotion for he now came hurrying down the stairs.

“Detective!” Ted yelled the moment he caught sight of Chase. “I want to press official charges against this man.” He was still digging his index finger into Tex’s collarbone, and Tex, feeling that too much of a good thing is a bad thing, now grabbed hold of Ted’s finger and gave it a gentle twist.

“Ouch!” Ted said, astonished by this intervention. “See!” he yelled. “Now he’s even getting violent with me! I’ve got witnesses—he assaulted me!”

“Let’s all calm down, shall we?” Chase suggested, holding up his hands in a gesture of appeasement. “And let’s also keep our voices down. Grace is asleep upstairs.” That would have surprised me a great deal, for I could see her feet on those stairs and she was clearly determined not to miss a thing of this whole altercation. “Okay, so what seems to be the problem, Ted?” he asked as he planted his hands on his hips.

“That is my turtle,” Ted said, pointing to Max One. “And this man stole it,” he added, pointing to Tex but refraining from touching him this time. “And he also stole my Plurtle.”

“Now why would Tex go and do a silly thing like that?” Chase reasoned. “He’s a doctor, not a turtle thief.”

“Because he’s jealous! He knows that I will win this competition hands down and so he decided to hobble me.”

“Oh, please,” said Tex. “I didn’t need to steal your Plurtle to make sure that you wouldn’t win the competition. I saw your Plurtle, Ted, and it doesn’t even look like a turtle. It looks more like… a flat piece of rock.”

“It does not!”

“It does too.”

“This proves it!” Ted yelled. “This proves that you stole it. How else would you have seen my Plurtle if you didn’t take it?”

“Because I just happened to sneak over there to take a look, all right?” said Tex.

“See? He admits it!”

“All he’s admitting is that he took a look at your Plurtle, Ted,” said Chase.

“Same way you took a look at mine,” said Tex.

“I did not!”

“I saw you! From the house, when you thought I wasn’t looking.”

Ted shrugged. “Okay, so maybe I did take a peek at your Plurtle. It’s called gauging the competition and it’s a common and well-established practice.”

“Look, I think we’re all getting carried away a little here,” said Gran. “Nobody stole anybody’s turtle, all right? And now let’s all go to bed. I know I need my beauty sleep.”

“I will not leave until you have returned my turtle to me, and my Plurtle,” said Ted, folding his arms across his chest with a defiant look on his face.

Gran sighed and took out her phone.

“Marcie? Yeah, it’s Vesta,” she said, causing Ted to give her a look of slight panic. “We’ve got a problem. It’s your husband. He’s making a real spectacle of himself.” She listened for a moment and smiled. “Thanks. I’ll pass him to you, shall I?” She then thrust out the phone and held it to Ted’s ear.

The man listened for only five seconds before his face turned a little pale. He murmured, “Yes, Marcie. Of course, Marcie. I’ll be home in a jiffy, Marcie.” And as he staggered off, he darted a final look at Tex and warned, “This isn’t over, neighbor. Not by a long shot.”

And then he was gone.

“Oh, dear,” said Marge. She turned to her husband. “So did you take that Plurtle?”

“Of course not!” said Tex. “Who do you think I am?”

“Scarlett took the Plurtle,” I said. “She snuck into Ted’s shed and took it.”

Marge and Gran eyed me with astonishment. “Scarlett took the Plurtle?” asked Marge.

“She did. First, she snuck into Tex’s shed and took a look at his Plurtle. Then she went into Ted’s shed, and when she came out, she was holding the Plurtle.”

“She didn’t take my Plurtle?” asked Tex when Marge had translated my words. He looked startled. “But why?”

I shrugged. “She probably didn’t like it,” I said.

This time, Marge decided not to do the honors of translating my words. Instead, she said, “She probably felt it was too big and she had no way of concealing it. Ted’s Plurtle was a lot smaller and she could easily hide it from view.”

“You know, I’m getting sick and tired of this whole Plurtle business,” said Chase. “As if there’s nothing more important in the world than these stupid Plurtles.” He threw up his hands. “I mean, I really don’t see the big appeal.”

“They are very nice to look at,” said Marge. “They add life and cheer to the home.”

“And they also cost an arm and a leg,” said Gran. “Except of course if you can get them for free.”

Chase’s phone chimed and he picked up. “Yeah, chief,” he said. He listened for a moment and nodded. “Thanks for letting me know. No, I was just about to turn in for the night.” He glanced over at Gran. “I’ll tell her. Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

After he hung up, Gran asked, “So, what was that all about?”

“The raid went off without a hitch. They’ve got all of the principals behind lock and key—and that includes Benny, by the way. Who claims he was at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Well, he was,” said Gran. “But he chose to be there, so I don’t feel sorry for the guy.”

“And also, the chief expects all of us down at the station tomorrow for a meeting in his office.”

Gran looked happily surprised. “He wants me in his office for a meeting?”

“You and Scarlett.” He placed an arm around the old lady’s shoulders. “So get some sleep, all right? And we’ll pick this up again tomorrow.” He gave her a smile. “Thanks for the tip-off, Vesta. Without you, we wouldn’t have collared what looks to be a major drug outfit tonight.”

“Gee, thanks, Chase,” said Gran, a little flustered but inordinately pleased.

And so we all said good night, and everyone went to their respective beds to enjoy a nice slumber. Since we’d all had enough excitement for one night, the four of us decided to forgo cat choir and instead have an early night. And since Ted had been so determined to get his turtle back, Chase decided that it was probably for the best if he took the turtles upstairs where he could keep an eye on them.

And he was probably right.

CHAPTER 33

Uncle Alec must have felt really magnanimous, for even the four of us were invited to the big meeting that was to take place in his office. It was a crowded affair, with Chase and Odelia present, and also Gran and Scarlett. Odelia had first dropped Grace off at kindergarten, then Marc Oldoland at home, and then had driven straight to the precinct, parking in front of the building as was her habit.

“I hope this is a valuable use of our time,” said Brutus. When we gave him an odd look, he grinned. “Just kidding. I’m sure that Uncle Alec must think we have something important to contribute, or he wouldn’t have invited us. And of course, we did contribute—if not for us, they would never have known that the place on Mason Street housed a drug lab.” He punched my shoulder. “You and me, Max. We figured it out, didn’t we?”

I rubbed my shoulder. “We sure did,” I said.

Walking into the police station, we were greeted with odd looks from the people in the waiting room, but then I guess you don’t often see a bunch of cats entering a police station—we’re not their usual crowd.

Dolores gave us a wave, and Odelia gave her a smile in return.

Chase had already been present and came walking out of his office with two cups of coffee in his hands. “Piping hot,” he said as he handed one to his wife. “Just the way you like it.”

“Thanks, babe,” she said. “I need it.”

“Short night, huh?”

“Too short.”

“Will the turtles be all right?” asked Dooley. “Won’t Ted Trapper try to steal them?”

“They’re at the library,” said Odelia. “Mom took them with her this morning, just to make sure that Ted doesn’t go anywhere near them.”

“Those turtles are really seeing the sights,” I said. “Pretty soon they’ll have seen all of Hampton Cove.”

Gran and Scarlett were the last ones to arrive, and then we all settled in to listen to the chief.

“Okay, so first things first. Last night’s raid. Fifteen people were arrested, lots of interesting stuff was confiscated. Looks like the place was one of the bigger labs the DEA has ever hit. They wish to extend their appreciation for the tip-off.”

“How about Benny?” asked Gran.

“He’s been picked up along with the others,” said Uncle Alec. “And will be cooling his heels as a guest of the state for the foreseeable future, especially as he was out on parole.”

“Too bad,” said Scarlett. “He’s a good sort.”

“He was working for a gang of drug dealers,” said Uncle Alec sternly. “So not such a good sort at all.”

“At least he gave me my Plurtles,” said Scarlett quietly.

“What was that?” asked the chief.

“Nothing,” muttered Scarlett.

“Okay, so as things look, they were using a sophisticated method to extract cocaine from plastic,” said the police chief. “The objects were shipped in by the truckload, and since they looked completely harmless, no one batted an eye. Until they arrived at the lab, where they used some chemical wizardry to get the cocaine out of the plastic. All very high-tech.”

“So… the drugs were in the plastic objects?” asked Odelia, casting a quick glance at Scarlett, whose face had suddenly turned very… scarlet.

“Don’t ask me how it works exactly. Chemistry was never my strongest subject in school. But apparently, these big drug conglomerates now have methods to mix the drugs in with the plastic and mold them into any object they want. In this case, it was plastic turtles. They shipped them into the country in containers filled with these turtles. Though according to the guy I spoke with, they called them ‘plurtles.’ No idea why, exactly. They’re very popular, or so he told me. Which is probably why they used them to ship the drugs. And then once they arrived, they used a chemical process to separate the illegal substance from the plastic, and turn it into a product they could sell on the street.”

Gran swallowed. “So… the Plurtles that were in that lab last night… they were full of drugs?”

“About fifteen percent pure cocaine in each Plurtle. Or so I’ve been told.”

“My God,” said Scarlett. “That… that’s quite a lot of cocaine. Isn’t it?”

“Yeah, apparently it is. And a great way to get the stuff into the country. Well, until now. They’ll be on the lookout for these so-called Plurtles from now on. Which brings me to my second point.” He opened a folder on his desk. “Leon Coutts. Since he was the guy who created these Plurtles, the DEA thinks his death may be connected to the lab we busted last night. It can’t be a coincidence that on the same day you discover the lab, Mr. Coutts dies.”

“So are you any closer to finding out how he died?” asked Odelia.

“Abe has sent me his preliminary report. Turns out Coutts had a high blood alcohol level, and also a pretty high level of cocaine in his blood. So that might tell us that he was indeed involved with this gang. Though it still doesn’t tell us if his death was an accident or murder. Cause of death was multiple fractures consistent with a fall from a great height.” He closed the file. “Basically, the guy broke his neck.”

“So it was the fall that killed him?” asked Chase.

“That’s right,” said the chief. “Which doesn’t tell us much. And we still don’t know if there really was a person in the room with him. Though I’m inclined, in light of recent events, to…” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m saying this… But I’m inclined to believe the turtle.”

“Of course you should believe the turtle,” said Harriet. “Shirley is a great turtle, and she wouldn’t lie about a thing like that.”

“What did the turtle say?” asked Scarlett, who had somewhat recovered from the shock of discovering that she had taken home a box full of cocaine last night.

“The turtle said that there was a woman in the room with Leon Coutts,” said Uncle Alec. “They went out onto the balcony and argued about something, and next thing, the woman stormed back into the room, grabbed all the Plurtles she could get her hands on, and took off.”

“We need to find her,” said Odelia, directing a glance at her husband, who was shaking his head.

“Nobody has corroborated the, um, eyewitness,” he said.

“You can say it, buddy,” said the chief. “If I can say it, so can you.”

Chase grimaced. “Okay, so far nobody has corroborated the testimony of the turtle.”

“The turtle has a name, and it’s Shirley,” said Harriet.

“Shirley didn’t see anything else?” asked Odelia.

I shook my head. “Just that the woman wasn’t in there long.”

“What did she look like, this woman?” asked Uncle Alec.

“Average build, average height, average-looking,” I said. “Age… Shirley thinks probably early forties. And she was blond.”

“A blond-haired woman of average height and build,” said Odelia.

“That doesn’t help us much,” said Chase, still skeptical about this whole ‘turtle as a key witness business.’

“Okay, you better start looking for this woman,” said Uncle Alec. “She’s the last person to see Leon Coutts alive—apart from you guys, of course,” he quickly added when Gran opened her mouth to protest.

“And then there are his last words,” said Odelia. “Tell them… Figurine did it.”

“Figurine could refer to the woman,” said Uncle Alec with a frown. “Though it’s a strange name for a person.”

“Could be a nickname of some kind?” Chase suggested.

“Okay, just keep looking. We need to find this woman, and that’s a priority, people. I’ve been getting a lot of phone calls about this Leon Coutts guy. Apparently, he was a regular superstar of the art world. Oh, and his business partner called. Said he wants his lawyer to be present at the interview.” Scarlett and Gran had already gotten up and were on their way to the door, but Uncle Alec’s voice arrested them. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he said sternly.

Gran turned, and whereas Scarlett couldn’t hide her look of guilt, Gran seemed not to have a care in the world. Breezily, she said, “Are you talking to us, Alec?”

“Yes, I’m talking to you,” said the police chief as he got up from behind his desk and planted his hands on the surface. “A little birdie tells me that you came into possession of a box full of those coke-filled plastic turtles last night. I want to see them returned as soon as possible, is that understood?”

“But Alec,” said Scarlett desperately, “I’m sure that they don’t have any cocaine. And even if they do, I wouldn’t know how to get the cocaine out of them, so can’t I just keep them? I already put them on my mantel and they look lovely. They add so much cheer.”

“Scarlett, they’re part of a drug bust!”

“Technically, they weren’t there,” she argued.

“Return them as soon as possible. Unless you want to get in trouble with the DEA.”

“Oh, all right,” said Scarlett. She sighed. “I never get to have anything nice, do I?” And with these words, she walked out and slammed the door behind her.

Gran frowned at her son. “Now see what you did. You made Scarlett feel bad.”

“She had a box full of cocaine in her home!”

“On her mantel, actually. I’ve seen it, and it really does look very nice.”

“We also have one at home,” said Odelia. “Grace got one as a present from Scarlett. Part of the same batch.”

Uncle Alec buried his face in his hands. “My own family. Up to their eyeballs in cocaine. Now how the hell am I going to explain that?!”

CHAPTER 34

“Ididn’t even get the chance to discuss another matter with Scarlett,” said Uncle Alec.

“What matter?” asked Gran.

“Ted Trapper has filed a formal complaint against Tex for stealing his turtle and his Plurtle. Though Odelia tells me that it was actually Scarlett who took his Plurtle.”

“And what if she did?” asked Gran. “I mean, it’s not exactly the nicest-looking Plurtle in the world, is it? We all know that Ted isn’t an artist, and so he never stood a chance to win that competition. Neither does Tex, by the way,” she added as an aside to her granddaughter. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Odelia said. “I’ve seen Dad’s Plurtle and it does look like a marmot.”

Gran grinned. “It’s probably the ugliest Plurtle in the world. Maybe it can get a Razzie, but it will never win first prize.”

“Look, can you tell Scarlett to return Ted’s Plurtle?” asked Uncle Alec. “Then at least that’s one problem solved.” He turned to his niece. “And give him back his turtle, please? Otherwise, he’ll never shut up about it.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” said Odelia.

“And why is that?”

“Because that turtle didn’t like the way it was being treated by Ted, and so it escaped from his shed and sought refuge with us.” She tilted her chin. “And I, for one, am not prepared to kick him out after I promised he could stay with us.”

“Oh, fine,” said Uncle Alec, who was starting to look extremely weary about all this turtle and Plurtle business. “Keep the turtle for all I care, but just don’t tell Ted, all right?”

“One turtle looks very much like the next one,” said Chase. “We denied last night that we took Ted’s turtle, and that’s where the matter ends as far as we’re concerned.”

“Now if only Ted were a reasonable man, that would be the end of this nonsense,” said the chief. “But we all know the guy has a stubborn streak, so expect a couple more visits from your neighbor and a few more threats. He might even try and take back his turtle.”

“Let him try,” said Chase. “Those turtles are together now, united as a family, and nobody is going to separate them again.”

Uncle Alec smiled. “I didn’t know you were so attached to those turtles, Chase. It’s touching. Very touching.”

“I happen to have become attached to them, that’s true,” said the detective. “And so has Grace. She likes the turtles and is already talking about taking them to school so she can show them to her friends.”

“That’s not going to happen,” said Odelia. “Those turtles have been through enough. What they need now more than ever is stability and a loving, safe environment, and I intend to offer them exactly that.”

“Okay, that’s enough about that topic,” said Uncle Alec. “I want you to focus on finding this woman witness and find out what she knows about what went down in Leon Coutts’s hotel room. And you,” he added, pointing a finger at his mother, “better make sure I get Scarlett’s Plurtles on my desk ASAP. Is that understood?”

“Spoilsport,” said Gran, but didn’t offer any counterarguments. Even she probably understood there was no feasible scenario where her friend managed to hang on to her precious Plurtles.

While Odelia and Chase figured out how to proceed, the four of us decided to take a walk around the block and pay a visit to our good friend Kingman. As far as I could tell, he hadn’t witnessed this mysterious woman exiting the hotel around the time that Leon Coutts had fallen to his death, but Kingman is one of those cats that never cease to amaze with the breadth of his knowledge and the depth of his gossip. And besides, we had missed him last night due to the drug bust.

As I had expected, Kingman was extremely interested in the story of the drug lab that had been active on Hampton Cove soil.

“A drug lab!” he cried. “I didn’t even think such a thing was possible. Don’t they need permission or something to operate such a lab?”

“It’s all very hush-hush, Kingman,” said Brutus.

“I doubt the people who run these labs ask permission from the local authorities,” I said.

“It’s illegal, Kingman,” Harriet clarified. “In the sense that you can’t manufacture drugs and sell them. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be all this hullabaloo around the whole thing.”

“I liked Benny,” said Dooley. “It’s sad to know that he was involved in this business.”

“He should have known better,” I agreed. “Especially after Father Reilly did so much to get him on the straight and narrow again.”

“Oh, so Benny Dowd was involved as well, was he?” asked Kingman. “He was in here just yesterday, you know. Though of course he would be, as even crooks have to eat.”

“What did he want?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing much,” said Kingman. “Cigarettes and alcohol and frozen pizza. He seems to have subsisted on those few items.”

“And cocaine,” said Harriet.

“I doubt it,” I said. “Oftentimes the people active in the drug trade are not actually consumers of their own product. If they were, they wouldn’t last very long.”

“Oh, he did say something that I found a little odd,” said Kingman.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“Well, he wanted to know if Wilbur needed Plurtles to sell. He said he could get lots and lots of them. And since Plurtles seem to be the big rage at the moment, he figured that he and Wilbur could set up a nice sideline selling them.”

“And did Wilbur say yes?”

“He did, actually. Wilbur is of the opinion that if it sells, he will carry it. And since these Plurtles are big-selling items, he could see a market for them among his customers.”

“But... they’re extremely expensive,” said Harriet. “Like, really, really expensive.”

“They sell for thousands of dollars,” I said.

“Wilbur’s clientele isn’t exactly the kind that would be in the market for a high-ticket item like a Plurtle, I would have thought,” I said.

“Well, he seemed to think they were. And he wouldn’t have sold them for thousands of bucks, of course. A hundred, tops.”

We all stared at our friend. “But how was he going to make a profit?” asked Brutus finally. “If he had to pay Benny Dowd a thousand bucks apiece and he was going to sell them at ten times less?”

Kingman laughed. “Oh, you guys. You don’t have to explain economics to me. I know about profit margins and all of that stuff. Benny was going to sell them to Wilbur at around fifty bucks apiece, so Wilbur stood to make a fifty-dollar profit on every Plurtle sold, which is a very generous profit margin, you have to admit.”

“But that’s impossible,” said Harriet.

“It’s possible if Benny was stupid enough to steal from his bosses,” I said.

“Or maybe they were cheap knock-offs,” said Brutus. “Not the real product.”

“Benny swore up and down that his Plurtles were the real deal,” said Kingman with a shrug. “He showed one to Wilbur and it looked real enough. I think he still has it lying around somewhere.”

We gazed up at the shopkeeper, who was seated behind his cash register, watching a football game on his small television set and ignoring his customers. And since we’re of a curious nature, we decided to take a closer look to see if we couldn’t find the Plurtle in question.

Entering the store, we trotted up to the checkout counter, and it wasn’t long before my eye was caught by the colorful plastic turtle, which was lying underneath the counter where Wilbur had casually stuffed it.

“It does look like the real deal,” Harriet admitted.

“It looks lovely,” said Dooley. “Very colorful, and it has that sheen that Scarlett likes so much.”

“Benny must have decided to keep a couple of boxes for himself,” I said. “Which means it’s probably a good thing that the drug lab was dismantled when it was. If his bosses found out, Benny would have been in a lot of trouble.”

“He would have been in a world of hurt,” Harriet concurred.

“But why sell the Plurtles for fifty bucks when they’re stuffed chock-full with drugs?” asked Brutus. “They’re worth so much more than what Wilbur was willing to pay.”

“I’m afraid Benny is not the cleverest of crooks, Brutus,” I said. “He probably figured he’d get what he could and make a little money on this side hustle of his.”

At least the mystery of the truck where Benny got his wares had been solved.

CHAPTER 35

It was the weirdest thing, almost as if Jodie had suddenly acquired a personal bodyguard. Of course, Brian’s sister didn’t see it that way. But then girls can be really obtuse, and Brian’s sister even more so than most. Mom had seen it, but she said it was just a coincidence, and besides, cats often came to the house to beg for scraps of food.

“But this cat is really big, Mom. I don’t think it needs more food.”

“It may have a big belly, but that doesn’t mean it’s been eating well,” Mom argued, always needing to be right, like most grown-ups do. “Sometimes they can be sick, and that’s why they have this belly. And frankly, I think this cat is really sick, sweetie. Just look at all the scratches it has. Part of her ear is also missing.”

Okay, so maybe Mom wasn’t mistaken about that part. It was true that this particular cat looked a little funny, as if it had been in some wars or something. But the fact that it refused to stray from their back door wasn’t because it liked him so much, or Mom and Dad. It was because it had appointed itself Jodie’s personal guardian angel. Brian was sure of it.

Everywhere Jodie went, this cat followed. That was all the evidence Brian needed. It also made him wonder if the cat might be connected to Odelia somehow. After all, it had only started following Jodie around when Brian had asked the reporter to handle Jodie’s bully.

As they walked to school that day, he saw that the cat was following them from a distance, making sure never to leave them out of its sight.

“See? He’s following us again,” he said.

“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” said Jodie.

“I don’t think so. This cat is protecting you, Jodie. It wants to keep you safe.”

“Safe from what?” asked his big sister with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

Oops! Now he’d really landed himself in it, hadn’t he? He’d have to admit he knew she was being bullied, and there was only one way he’d know about that: if he read her diary!

“Um… well, you know how Mom is always telling you to be careful? You know, with cars driving too fast and… strange men trying to lure you into their van or something?”

Jodie laughed. “And you really think this cat is trying to protect us from that?” She mussed up his hair. “You really are a dork, Brian. Only you would think that cats are clever enough to do a thing like that. This isn’t one of your cartoons, you know. In real life, cats don’t behave like that.” She glanced back. “More than likely, he’s simply hungry and is hoping we will give him something to eat.”

“Maybe we should,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, my lunch box is full of stuff I don’t even like. So maybe I should give him some of it.”

“Do whatever you want,” she said. “It’s your funeral if Mom finds out that you gave all your food away to a stray cat.”

It certainly looked like a stray cat, Brian thought. Mangy and full of scars. Then again, superheroes often disguise themselves. Like Superman who was also Clark Kent. Was it possible this cat was a superhero? Like a supercat? The day he had met Odelia, she had been in the company of no less than four cats, so maybe this one was part of her outfit? Her troupe? He had heard stories that Odelia loved cats. She also wrote that column about Max and his adventures, so maybe this superhero cat was a friend of Max? Maybe Max had dispatched him or her to keep an eye on Jodie? It was all possible—very likely, even.

They had arrived at school, and that’s where they went their separate ways, with Jodie not wanting to be seen hanging around with her younger dorky brother. Instead, she walked right up to Maddison. It used to be that Jodie was always hanging out with Lacey and her friends, but that was obviously a thing of the past.

He watched as Lacey stood with her friends, darting occasional glances at Jodie and Maddison. A mean smile played about Lacey’s lips, and Brian could tell that she was up to something. He wondered what it could be but felt powerless to do anything about it, as he wasn’t in the same class as his sister and her nemesis. And besides, he was too small to play the superhero and save his sister.

Would she even like it? She might feel embarrassed that she needed her little brother to look out for her.

Just as Jodie passed Lacey and her troupe, Lacey stuck out her foot and Jodie went down—hard.

She hit the pavement, and Brian could see that she had really hurt herself. There was blood on her cheek and also on her hand. But instead of confronting Lacey, she got up and walked on, with Maddison giving Lacey a dirty look and supporting her friend.

And then, much to everyone’s surprise, suddenly the cat that had been following them all the way from home streaked out of nowhere and jumped right on top of Lacey’s head!

And as the latter screamed, trying to get rid of it, the cat dug in. Before long, Lacey was jumping all around, wrestling with the cat, who was hissing, growling and screaming.

As quickly as it had begun, the cat let go and streaked off before anyone could catch it.

The entire school had witnessed the altercation, and they all broke out into spontaneous applause—for the cat! Even Brian was applauding and cheering for that brave creature for defending Jodie’s honor.

Jodie, who stood gaping at the scene, touching her cheek, which was bruised and bloodied, turned to Brian.

“I told you!” he yelled.

She nodded. It looked like Jodie had a secret defender—and it was a cat!

CHAPTER 36

“You have to tell them, Jodie,” Maddison urged. “You can’t let her walk all over you like that.”

“Oh, just leave it,” said Jodie. “It will only make things more difficult for me.”

“But she really hurt you this time. Just look at your face.”

Jodie and Maddison were at the infirmary, where a nurse was checking the scrapes on her cheek and hand. Just then, Lacey herself came walking in. The teenager looked a lot worse than Jodie did. There were scratches on her face and head, and they were bleeding.

“That cat really went to town on her,” Maddison said under her breath.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Jodie.

“You did this, didn’t you?” said Lacey. She was close to hysterics. “You sicced that cat on me! I know you did, so don’t try to deny it!”

Jodie laughed. The accusation was so ridiculous it was hard to believe a sane person could actually come up with it. “Are you kidding me? How would I sic a cat on you?”

“She was at the house yesterday, where she attacked me in my room,” said Lacey, who was crying bitter tears at the damage that had been done to her precious face. “And in class yesterday, she also attacked me out of the blue, remember?”

“That still doesn’t mean anything. Are you even sure it was the same cat?”

“I would have recognized it anywhere,” said Lacey, sniffling desperately. “That mangy creature has it in for me—and you put her up to it!”

“If that’s what you want to think,” said Jodie, “just go ahead, for all I care. But I can tell you right now that I don’t have some kind of magic power over cats to do my bidding.”

“So she was at your house yesterday, was she?” asked Maddison.

Lacey gave her a dirty look. “You’re both loving this, aren’t you? You think this is just great. My face is ruined. I’ll have scars for the rest of my life! I will need an operation!”

“You won’t need an operation for a few scratches,” said Maddison. “She could have scratched your eyes out, though, and that would have been a lot worse.”

Lacey screamed as the thought hit her that she could have lost one eye or both.

The nurse came hurrying in again, and when she saw Lacey, she shook her head. “What’s with you girls today? First Jodie with all those scratches, and now you.”

“I was attacked by a cat,” said Lacey. “A cat that she sicced on me!”

“I did no such thing,” said Jodie.

“Let’s go, Jodie,” said Maddison.

“That’s right,” said Lacey as she took a seat on the nurse’s table so the latter could take a closer look at her face and dress her wounds. “Run away! But I’ll have my daddy make a complaint about this. You’ll be expelled from school, you… witch!”

“This is just silly,” said Jodie as she and Maddison walked away. “I’ve never even seen that cat before.” Though in actual fact, she had. “That’s not entirely true,” she amended her words. “It was outside the house this morning. Brian said it’s my guardian angel. That it’s been sent here to protect me. So maybe he was right, after all.”

“Who does he think sent it?”

“No idea.”

They returned to class. Even if they’d be late, they had a note from the nurse to account for their whereabouts.

“Did you spend a lot of time at Lacey’s place over the years?” Maddison asked.

“Sure,” said Jodie. “I was over there many times. Birthday parties, sleepovers. Until all of a sudden she decided that she didn’t want to be friends anymore.”

“But why? What happened?”

“She spent the night at my place last month for a sleepover. I don’t know why, but afterwards she suddenly said I had betrayed her and I wasn’t her friend anymore. She even returned my friendship bracelet and said I should burn hers. It was so shocking.”

“What happened during that sleepover?”

“Nothing!” said Jodie. “We had a great time, the way we always do. We watched some television, played some games, and talked a lot—though mostly Lacey talked.”

“I can see that.”

“And then the next day, she said that I had cheated her and lied to her. Though she wouldn’t say what about. And that’s when she started this campaign of harassing me.”

“But something must have happened to make her change her mind about you.”

Jodie shook her head. “I swear, nothing happened.”

“You didn’t have a big fight?”

“No fight. Mom even gave her a present. She gave her one of those plastic turtles that are so popular right now.”

“Your mom gave Lacey a Plurtle?”

“Yeah, she’d seen Lacey look at it, and so she decided to give it to her because she was my best friend.”

“That’s a very expensive gift, Jodie.”

“Not really. Mom makes them.”

“Your mom makes Plurtles?”

“Well, yes. It’s not difficult. Anyone can make a Plurtle.”

“Yeah, but those are not the real Plurtles, are they? I mean, the real Plurtles are the ones that were made by the guy who died yesterday.”

“I don’t know anything about that. All I know is my mom has been making Plurtles all her life. The house is full of them. They’re everywhere, and they drive my dad crazy.”

“He doesn’t like your mom’s handiwork?”

“He does not! He thinks they’re fine in small quantities, but not the way she makes them—by the dozen.”

“A Plurtle can’t be the reason Lacey decided she couldn’t be friends with you anymore.”

“Exactly. Mom says it’s just one of those things, and I shouldn’t be too upset about it. And I wouldn’t be if she hadn’t started making such a nuisance of herself with all the nasty things she’s pulled.”

“Yeah, that’s over the top,” Maddison agreed. “Which is why I think you should go to the principal about this latest stunt she pulled, tripping you up. And I’ll support you,” she quickly added when Jodie shook her head. “I’ll back you up. I’ll tell the principal what I saw, and she will have to believe me. It will be our word against Lacey’s.”

“And Lacey’s posse,” said Jodie. “They’ll tell the principal that nothing happened, that I’m making it all up, and that I’m just naturally clumsy.”

Maddison sighed. “Then I guess we’ll have to trust that cat guardian of yours from now on.”

Jodie grinned. “I guess. It’s pretty cool, though, isn’t it? To have a cat as your protector?”

“She was fierce!” said Maddison. “The way she went for Lacey? Man, that was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“It was pretty cool,” said Jodie.

The two girls arrived at the classroom and walked in. They might be twenty minutes late, but they had an excuse. Oddly enough, as Jodie took her seat and happened to glance over at the window, she saw that very same cat sitting there, staring at her intently.

Looked like her personal bodyguard wasn’t going anywhere.

CHAPTER 37

When we left the General Store and decided to head for the police station to bring Odelia the news about the sideline that Wilbur had engaged in with Benny, we were waylaid by Gran and Scarlett.

“There’s something going down at the school,” said Gran without preamble. “Something about a cat that’s gone berserk.”

“Cats don’t go berserk, Gran,” said Dooley with a laugh. “It’s not possible.”

“Dooley is right,” said Brutus. “Cats are the most level-headed creatures in the universe. We never go off our rocker the way humans do.”

“Well, this cat went berserk,” Gran insisted. “They’re threatening to call in animal control and have her put down. But first they wanted to call me in, as I’m known as a cat whisperer.” She turned to Scarlett. “I didn’t know that. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t,” said Scarlett. “Cat whisperer, huh? That’s a nice compliment, honey.”

“I thought so. I might even have it printed on my business cards from now on.”

“I didn’t know you had a business card,” said Harriet.

“I don’t—not yet. But now I’m thinking that maybe I should. Leader of the Neighborhood Watch and Cat Whisperer. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“It does have a nice ring to it,” said Scarlett.

Gran gestured to her car. “Hop in. We’ve got a berserk cat to talk off the ledge.”

And so we did as we were told, even though my friends still contended that there must be some mistake, as cats don’t suffer from the same psychological issues that humans often do. I didn’t fully agree with them, as cats can suffer a psychotic breakdown just as much as anyone. I certainly hoped that this wasn’t the case, as I could imagine it wouldn’t be a lot of fun to see a fellow cat go off its rocker.

We arrived at Garden Grove in due course, and as Gran parked the car, I thought I already saw the cat in question. The creature was seated on a windowsill outside one of the classrooms. Inside, a teacher was fervently trying to shoo it away, but the cat wasn’t budging.

“Oh, my God,” said Harriet. “But… that’s Clarice!”

“It is,” I said, for I had also recognized our friend.

“What does she think she’s doing?” asked Brutus.

“Saving Jodie,” I said.

“Honey, isn’t that your cat?” asked Gran.

Scarlett squinted to take a closer look, then her jaw dropped. “It is! What is she doing here?”

“She obviously takes her mission very seriously,” I said.

Gran hurried up to the cat, followed by Scarlett, and the four of us.

“Clarice, get away from that window right this minute!” Gran demanded.

“I will not,” said Clarice coldly. “Not as long as there’s a threat to life for that nice girl in there.”

“Clarice, you can’t do this to me,” said Scarlett.

“I’m on a mission,” said Clarice. “And my mission hasn’t been completed yet.” She suddenly tensed. “She’s back!”

“Who’s back?” asked Gran.

“The bully. If she even lifts so much as a finger at my charge, I will… Oh, I don’t know what I will do, but I will do something, just you wait and see.”

“I think maybe by now Lacey has gotten the point, wouldn’t you agree?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, Max,” said Clarice. “I thought the same thing, and yet this morning she intentionally made Jodie trip and fall on her face. That is not the kind of behavior of a person who’s finally seen the error of their ways.”

“No, it’s not,” I said. “And so what did you do?”

“An eye for an eye, Max. You know my motto.”

“And so you scratched her face, I gather?”

“Absolutely. And if she doesn’t get the message this time, I’ll have to do it again—and again, until she finally learns that bullying doesn’t pay.”

“I thought it was crime that doesn’t pay?” asked Brutus.

“That, too,” Clarice admitted.

Inside the classroom, the teacher had become aware of Gran and Scarlett arriving on the scene.

“Oh, thank God,” said the teacher. “Can you take care of this horrible creature, Mrs. Muffin?”

“Absolutely,” said Gran. “And I’ll make sure she doesn’t cause any more trouble.”

“We were thinking about calling in animal control,” said the teacher, who was a short and stocky lady with iron-rimmed glasses. On the ground outside of the classroom lay a number of chalkboard erasers, which the teacher had probably thrown at Clarice in a bid to make her skedaddle. She should have known that Clarice isn’t the kind of cat who can be induced to get lost when asked—or even threatened with grievous bodily harm by eraser. “But some of the kids said we’d better not, because they might give her a shot, and they felt that was too much. And so I got the idea to call you.”

“And a good thing you did,” said Gran.

“The cat is mine,” said Scarlett.

“No, she isn’t,” Gran quickly said.

“But she is. It’s Clarice, Vesta.”

“No, it’s not,” Gran insisted. “We’ve never seen this cat before. Probably a stray.”

“Yeah, she looks like a stray,” said the teacher, giving Scarlett an odd look. “Maybe she’s hungry and is trying to get the kids to give her some food. But she’s not going about it the right way. She actually attacked one of them—and not for the first time either.” She lowered her voice. “It was actually this girl who suggested we call animal control and have the cat put down. She said she probably has rabies. Can cats even get rabies? I’m not sure.”

“We’ll take her off your hands,” Gran assured the teacher. “Let’s go, kitty,” she called out to Clarice.

Clarice still seemed reluctant to abandon her post. “I don’t want to,” she said. “That girl in there is in danger of being bullied. And I for one hate bullies.”

“I’m sure she will have understood the lesson by now,” I told Clarice. “And if she doesn’t, we’ll get Odelia to pay her a visit if that’s what it takes.”

“If you don’t come with us, they’ll have you put down,” said Brutus.

“I want to see them try,” said Clarice defiantly. “The only ones who will be put down are they.”

“Let’s go home,” said Scarlett. “Where it’s nice and snug and you won’t have any bullies to contend with.”

Clarice darted a glance at Scarlett and smiled. “Oh, all right. But only because I like you so much, Scarlett.”

And so she allowed her human to pick her up and carry her to the car.

“Do you think the bully will see the error of her ways now, Max?” asked Clarice once we were all inside the vehicle and Gran was driving us back to Scarlett’s place.

“I’m sure she will,” I assured our friend. “You did good, Clarice. In fact you did great.”

“That was very brave of you, Clarice,” said Harriet.

“I think you’re a hero,” said Dooley.

“But now you’d better stop,” said Brutus. “Before these people decide to get even.”

“The Dowlings are a very wealthy and powerful family,” Gran explained. “If they decide that you need to disappear, they won’t hesitate to make it happen.”

“Let them try,” said Clarice. “I’ll make them disappear.”

And I had no doubt in my mind that she would. Anyone who wanted to take on Clarice better think twice, for she wasn’t the kind of cat who took prisoners.

CHAPTER 38

Before we dropped Clarice off at home, she turned to me and whispered, “I have a mission for you, Max. If you choose to accept it, of course.”

“What mission?” I whispered back.

“Just drop by the apartment tonight. I’ll tell you then.”

I watched her walk off in the direction of the apartment, accompanied by Scarlett, who was afraid that if she didn’t keep an eye on her, Clarice would take off again to mete out some more justice on the bully.

“What did she say?” asked Dooley.

“She invited me to go on a mission with her tonight,” I said.

“Oh, can I come?”

“And me,” said Harriet.

“And I’ll also tag along if that’s all right with you,” Brutus grunted.

“What mission is this?” asked Gran.

“I have no idea,” I said. “But I imagine it’s got something to do with the bully.”

Gran sighed. “I just hope she won’t go anywhere near that girl again. You don’t mess with Randal Dowling.”

“Who is he again, Gran?” asked Dooley.

“Only one of the richest men in town. A self-made businessman.”

“What line of business is he in?” asked Harriet.

“Waste management, I believe.”

“You mean he’s a garbage hauler?” asked Brutus.

“I don’t believe he personally hauls garbage,” said Gran. “But he does own a couple of companies that are in that line of business. And he seems to have done very well for himself, if the mansion he lives in is any indication.”

“And yet his daughter feels the need to bully another girl,” said Harriet. “That’s not a very nice thing to do.”

“I’m sure she will have learned her lesson by now,” said Gran as she turned the key in the ignition. “Okay, where do you want me to drop you guys off?” she asked as she merged the car into traffic.

“Oh, just take us home,” said Harriet. “It’s too hot to be out and about, and I feel a nap coming on.”

I smiled. “I feel exactly the same way. A nice long nap is exactly what the doctor ordered.”

“Same here,” said Brutus.

“I don’t feel sleepy,” said Dooley. “In fact, I feel like I couldn’t possibly fall asleep right now, on account of all the exciting things that are happening. First that big drug raid last night, then Clarice attacking that bully. I think life is really getting interesting, so maybe we should keep our eyes peeled and ourselves on high alert.”

“You keep yourself on high alert, Dooley,” said Brutus. “But I’m going to catch a few winks.”

And so Gran headed home to drop us all off before she returned to the doctor’s practice, where she had a reception desk to attend to and a room full of waiting patients.

The moment we walked into the house, I had a feeling we weren’t alone. That feeling was borne out when we suddenly found ourselves face to face with none other than Ted Trapper.

He seemed startled to see us. “Nice kitties,” he said. “You just stay right there, all right? I’ll leave now. See?” he added as he opened the sliding glass door. “No harm done.”

We watched as he left through the door, closed it again, and disappeared from view.

“What do you think he was up to, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Maybe he wanted to borrow a cup of sugar,” said Harriet.

“He did? Oh, that’s so nice of him,” said Dooley.

“Of course he didn’t want to borrow a cup of sugar,” said Harriet, confusing Dooley. “I mean, what neighbor breaks into the house of another neighbor to borrow sugar?”

“He was probably looking for his turtle again,” said Brutus.

“Where are the turtles?” asked Dooley as he glanced at the table where the turtle cage had been standing.

“Marge took them to the library with her,” I said. “She feels it’s safer that way.”

“Are you sure?” asked Brutus. “I believe Marge changed her mind and handed them to Tex to take to his office, since she can’t always keep an eye on them at the library.”

“Poor turtles,” said Dooley. “Everybody is gunning for them, aren’t they? And they don’t even have a permanent home. Unless they’ll be staying with us from now on?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “Odelia doesn’t really want to add six turtles to her household.”

“Too bad,” said Dooley. “I like them. And so does Grace. In fact, I think she loves those turtles even more than she does us.”

“Impossible,” said Harriet. “There’s no way Grace likes those turtles more than she likes me. I mean, there’s simply no comparison. For one thing, she can’t talk to the turtles. And also, I’m much prettier than a turtle.”

“I guess tastes differ,” I said. “And also, turtles probably remind Grace of dinosaurs, and kids are crazy about dinosaurs for some reason.”

Harriet tsk-tsked liberally. “Oh, Max. Dinosaurs are extinct. Now who in their right mind would prefer an animal that is extinct over a living, breathing, gorgeous pet like me? No, I think all this talk about kids loving dinosaurs is simply overrated.”

“Be that as it may,” I said, “I think Odelia is probably looking for an adoptive family as we speak. She doesn’t want to keep the turtles around too long, in case Grace starts to bond with them and won’t want to see them go.”

And since all this talk had made me even more sleepy than I had already been, I decided to go upstairs and find a good place to take a long nap. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but cats don’t like to frequent the same spot all the time. Instead, we like to change things up. Since I had never slept on the windowsill before, I decided to try it out for size. I had just settled down on the windowsill in Odelia and Chase’s bedroom when I happened to see Ted walk out of Tex’s garden house. He was carrying a large and hideous sculpture in his hands that could only be described as a fat marmot—though Tex liked to call it a turtle.

Tex’s neighbor looked left, then right, and then hurried back to his own backyard with his newfound treasure in his hands.

I shook my head, lay down, and promptly dozed off.

Sometimes the world of man holds no interest for the world of cat.

CHAPTER 39

That night, even though it looked as if we’d have to forego cat choir for the second time in a row, I was excited about the prospect of giving Clarice a helping paw on the mission she had dangled in front of my nose like a carrot. Even though I don’t mind accompanying Odelia during the daytime on her investigations, I’d much rather be up and about when the sun sets and the moon rises, since cats are crepuscular creatures and prefer dusk and dawn.

“I wonder what she wants us to do,” said Harriet as we made our way from our own home to Scarlett’s. “I just hope it isn’t more scratching that poor girl’s face.”

“She’s not a poor girl by any stretch of the imagination, Harriet,” I said. “She’s a bully, and I don’t feel a lot of compassion for her right now.”

“I know, but being scratched like that is bad for our reputation, Max. It’s bad PR.”

“What are you? A spokesperson for the cat industry now?” I asked.

“No, but you have to take into account that all of the girls at that school will have witnessed this attack, and they’ll have certain feelings about it. And once they’re grown-ups, they might think twice about taking a cat as their pet. All of those girls, Max, might have become dog people in one ill-advised stunt—have you considered that? And what if the story spreads? Or what if one of them caught the incident on her phone and the video goes viral? It’s going to do a lot of damage to the image of cats in general. Bad optics.”

“I very much doubt it,” I said. “On the contrary, it will show us in an entirely different light. That of protectors of bullied kids. It might make our stock shoot through the roof.”

“And I think it’s detrimental to cats everywhere, and I will urge Clarice to practice restraint and refrain from pulling any more silly stunts like that. Unless she wants to replace us with dogs as humans’ most favorite pets. Already it’s touch and go, Max.”

“Harriet is right,” said Brutus. “Right now it’s sixty-forty in favor of dogs, so that’s a slippery slope.”

“What is sixty-forty?” asked Dooley.

“Sixty percent of American pet owners have dogs, and only forty percent have cats.”

“And pretty soon it will be seventy-thirty,” said Harriet, “then eighty-twenty, and before you know it, there won’t be any cats anymore—it’s all going to be dogs, dogs, dogs!”

“Things are going to the dogs,” said Brutus. “Literally!”

“I’m sure the situation isn’t as hopeless as you think,” I said. “And I’m also sure that one cat’s brave intervention to stand by a bullied girl won’t make people think that all cats are bad and they should get rid of us and take a dog.”

“Humans are emotional creatures, Max,” said Harriet. “That’s all I’m saying. They don’t think—they react. They see a video of a cat attacking a young girl and they make up their minds in a split second. That’s simply the way they are.”

We had arrived at our destination, but if we had expected Clarice to be waiting for us, we were very much mistaken. There was not a single trace of our friend.

“Where is Clarice?” asked Dooley.

“Probably under house arrest,” said Harriet. “Punished for being a bad kitty.”

“I’m sure Scarlett wouldn’t want to ground Clarice,” I said. “If that were even possible.”

“Clarice knows which side her bread is buttered. She won’t want to go against Scarlett’s wishes. Which is why she won’t stir up trouble by protesting the locking of her pet flap.”

“You think Clarice’s pet flap is locked?” asked Brutus.

“Only one way to find out,” I said, eyeing the tree next to Scarlett’s apartment building. I swallowed with apprehension. Even though I’m a cat, and climbing trees should be second nature to me, I’ve never seen the big attraction. Except when it’s absolutely necessary, of course. Like when I have to escape a rabid dog, as has happened in the past.

“Okay, Max,” said Brutus with a grin. “Go for it.” He must have understood my trepidation and was rubbing it in.

“Or you could go,” I suggested.

“It’s you Clarice invited. So you go up and find out what this is all about, buddy.”

He was right, of course. This was my party, and so I should be the one to go look for Clarice. So I took a deep breath and started climbing the tree. And even though I’m of a heftier disposition, it didn’t take me long to climb all the way to Scarlett’s balcony and discover that Harriet was right: the pet flap was locked. Looked like Scarlett had put her cat under house arrest after all.

I jumped up onto the windowsill and glanced inside. Scarlett was lounging on the sofa, watching something on television, with Clarice right next to her. The moment I arrived, as though by some kind of instinct, Clarice looked up and gave me a silent nod. I returned the nod and gestured toward the pet flap. Clarice held up her paw and made a gesture that I took to mean, ‘Patience, Max—patience.’

And so I waited. And waited. And waited some more.

“Hey! What’s going on up there!” Harriet demanded from down below.

I hurried to the railing and said, “Clarice says to wait!”

“Let’s wait up there,” said Brutus, and so he, Harriet, and Dooley made their way up. Moments later, we were all reunited on the balcony and settled in for the duration.

“Maybe I should sing a song,” Harriet suggested. “Music soothes the troubled soul, after all. Maybe it will induce Scarlett to open the pet flap and let Clarice out.”

“No!” I cried immediately.

“You don’t think my singing will mollify Scarlett?”

“I think it’s best if we don’t draw attention to ourselves right now,” I said. “If Scarlett sees us, she will correctly assume that we’re here for a purpose and that Clarice wants to go out and have more adventures. And that’s exactly what she doesn’t want.”

Inside the apartment, the lights had gone out, and it looked as if Scarlett had decided that it was time for bed. For a few moments, nothing happened, and then there was a sort of scratching sound at the pet flap. The flap opened, and Clarice came walking out.

“Be quiet,” she told us. “Be very quiet!”

And since being quiet is like second nature to us—except for Harriet, maybe—we did as she said. As she snuck down the tree, we quickly followed, though it was a little more difficult for me since I don’t like going down trees, even ones as thick and with as many branches as this one. Somehow, I made it down to the street, and Clarice finally opened up.

“She locked me in!” she cried with as much indignation as she could muster, which was a lot. “Can you believe it? She actually locked me in and told me to stay put. Said I was grounded for the next couple of days until I’d learned to behave and not attack random people on the street. As if this bully is just a random person and I’m in the habit of attacking just anyone I meet. Does she really think I would do such a crazy thing? I attacked that girl for a reason, and she knows perfectly well why.”

“How did you get out?” asked Brutus, his voice dripping with admiration. “I mean, that pet flap was locked down, so how did you manage?”

“Oh, I have my ways,” said Clarice airily. “Not many pet flaps can hold me, Brutus. Certainly not this flimsy contraption Scarlett installed. The main thing is that she doesn’t find out I’m gone. She might install a more sturdy pet flap—one that even I can’t crack.”

She headed out, and we followed. “So where are we going?” I asked.

“You’ll see when we get there,” said Clarice.

“You’re—not going to attack that girl again, are you?” asked Harriet.

“What girl? You mean the bully?” Clarice grinned, displaying two rows of razor-sharp teeth. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out, Harriet.”

“But… don’t you think it’s a bad idea to attack her again—so soon after this morning?”

“Look, if you’re too chicken to carry out this secret mission, you can go home right now,” said Clarice.

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” said Harriet, whose curiosity has always trumped her innate sense of self-preservation. We walked on in silence for a few moments, then she said, “But if you are going to attack that girl, I want to make it clear right now that we will not have any part in such a deliberate act of wanton violence.”

Clarice laughed. “Wanton violence! She is the violent one, Harriet. Not me—or you, for that matter.”

Harriet gulped. “If you put it like that…”

“Are we going to cat choir?” asked Dooley.

“No, Dooley, we’re not going to cat choir,” said Clarice.

“Oh, but I thought we were going to cat choir?”

Clarice sucked in a breath. I got the impression she was already regretting having invited me to join her on this mission. “Okay, since you won’t shut up about it, I will lift a tip of the veil. We’re going to the house where Jodie Brocket lives, all right?”

“You’re… you’re going to attack her also?” asked Harriet.

Clarice stopped dead in her tracks, causing Harriet to bump up against her. “Who do you think I am?” she demanded.

“Well, a vigilante?” Harriet suggested. “Out for justice.”

“Then why would I attack the victim of the bully?”

“Yeah, I guess that doesn’t make any sense,” Harriet admitted.

“I’m going to make sure that nothing happens to her,” said Clarice. “And that’s why I wanted Max to join me. So I can guard the front and he can guard the rear. I overheard that nasty girl this morning, and I got the definite impression that she was planning something. And so I just want to make sure that we’re there when she carries out her plan.”

“You think the bully is up to something?” I asked.

“Absolutely. Clearly, she hadn’t learned her lesson—yet.”

It wasn’t long before we arrived at the house where Jodie lived with her parents and her little brother Brian. As far as we could determine, the house was quiet and all of the inhabitants were fast asleep. But that didn’t mean anything, of course. Things could be happening that we needed to put a stop to—things like the bully sneaking around and doing God knew what.

“I’ll head upstairs and look in through the window to make sure she’s unharmed,” said Clarice. “You guys look in the other rooms, all right? We want to make sure that nothing bad happens tonight.”

And so we did as Clarice told us to. She was right. It was an important mission, and it made sense after what that bullying girl had been up to so far.

Dooley and I decided to head around to the back and look in through the living room window to see if there was any sign of activity, while Brutus and Harriet looked in through the front windows.

“Nothing, Max,” said Dooley as we did our best to look inside. “I’m sure they’re all in their beds, fast asleep. So when this is over, are we going to cat choir, you think?”

“I’m not sure, buddy,” I said as I strained my eyes to look in.

“It’s just that Kingman told me that last night Shanille complained about our absence, and so if we don’t go tonight, she might not like it.”

“Shanille will have to wait, Dooley. This is more important than cat choir.”

“Oh, but I agree. Catching a bully in the act is very important. But we don’t want to make Shanille upset either. It’s all about those checks and challenges, Max.”

I smiled. “You mean checks and balances.”

“Pretty sure it’s checks and challenges.”

“And I’m sure that if we have the opportunity, we will definitely go to cat choir.”

“Look at those Plurtles, Max,” said Dooley. “There are lots and lots of them.”

He was right. Everywhere I looked, I saw Plurtles. Turtle paintings on the wall, Plurtles adorning every surface—even the ceiling lights were molded in the shape of turtles. It looked as if the Brockets loved the creatures as much or even more than Scarlett did.

“Maybe let’s take a look upstairs,” I suggested. “See if everything is on the up and up.”

I gestured to the staircase that led to an upstairs landing that presumably gave access to the bedrooms. It was certainly a lot better than a tree.

We mounted the stairs and positioned ourselves outside the first room, glancing in through the window. Two people were fast asleep in bed, and I assumed these were the parents of the girl Clarice had taken it upon herself to protect.

“All seems quiet,” I said.

And then I noticed that here, too, the turtles were present and accounted for in every possible location in the bedroom. Even the wallpaper had a turtle motif.

“Huh,” I said. “They sure love their turtles in this place.”

But since I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, apart from the overabundance of turtles, I decided to head to the next room. This was where Brian slept, and since the kid was resting peacefully in his bed, I felt a great weight being lifted from my shoulders.

All was safe, and Clarice’s suspicions had been wrong—and a good thing, too!

As we sat there, looking in on the kid, suddenly he opened his eyes and looked straight at us.

Yikes!

CHAPTER 40

Both Dooley and I cried out in shock, but then quickly recovered. The kid had gotten out of bed and opened a window. He seemed extraordinarily pleased to see us.

“My bodyguards!” he cried, and insisted on picking me up and giving me a cuddle. Even though I’m not big on cuddles, I decided to allow him. Moments later, he did the same thing to Dooley, who giggled. “It tickles, Max.”

The moment he put us down on the landing again, he went down on his knees and whispered, “I know you guys are the greatest! First, you sent that super cat to protect us, and now you’re here personally. Did Odelia send you?”

“Well, no,” I admitted. “In fact, she probably wouldn’t be very pleased to know that we’re here.”

“Oh, but I’m sure she would be, Max,” said Dooley. “Odelia would be proud of us.”

“Yeah, maybe she would,” I conceded.

Just then, there was a cry that sounded in the night. It seemed to come from the front of the house, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it was Clarice.

We both hurried down the stairs, with the kid hot on our trail. He had clambered out of the window and was barefoot and dressed in his pajamas, which I didn’t think was such a great idea, but I didn’t think he’d listen to me if I told him to put on a pair of shoes.

We rounded the house, and the moment we arrived, we saw that the car, which had been parked in front of the carport, was on fire. By the time we arrived, it was ablaze.

“She lit it on fire!” Clarice declared. “I saw her running away, but I was too late to catch her!”

“Who did?” I asked.

“Why, the bully, of course. That evil girl. I told you she said she’d get even, and she did.”

“We have to call the fire department,” I said.

Brian was watching the blaze, riveted by the spectacle of the flames licking at the car’s bodywork.

“Wake up your parents, Brian,” I urged him, but of course, he didn’t understand or see the need to do as he was told.

Luckily for us, a window upstairs was suddenly opened and a girl I assumed was Brian’s sister appeared. Next to her, a second head popped out—possibly a friend.

“Oh my God!” Jodie cried. “Mom! Dad!” She quickly retracted her head, while her friend stared at the blaze, her eyes wide with shock.

“That’s Maddison,” said Brian. “She’s Jodie’s new friend. They’re having a sleepover.”

“That’s great,” I said. At least Jodie had found a new friend after her old friend had declared war on her for some reason.

The fire department had been called, or so I assumed when both Brian’s parents appeared in the driveway, in their pajamas and slippers, staring at the car with surprise and shock etched on their faces.

“Isn’t the tank going to catch fire?” asked Harriet, who had also joined us, along with Brutus.

“It’s an electric car,” said Clarice. She pointed to the charging cable that ran from the car to the house. “Which is probably a good thing. If that car was full of gas, it would have exploded by now—and maybe taken the whole house along with it, and its inhabitants.”

It wasn’t long before we heard a fire engine approaching, and as they got ready to put out the fire, I decided to take a closer look inside the house now that I had the chance. The abundance of turtles had aroused my curiosity, and I wanted to see what it was all about.

It was just as we had determined from looking in through the window: the whole house was designed with a distinct turtle motif in mind, and filled with plenty of colorful Plurtles, from the downstairs living room to the upstairs bedrooms, and even the bathroom.

Arriving downstairs again, I saw that a staircase led down into the basement, and since nobody was paying me any mind, I traipsed down those stairs to take a look. What I found was what is usually termed a man cave, only this one was more of a studio, with several Plurtles lying around in different stages of development. I also saw plenty of designs on the walls and studied them carefully. There was a computer on a desk with a screensaver that depicted more Plurtles, dancing and darting over one another in a playful manner.

One of the Brockets was a big-time Plurtle fan, that much was clear to me. So big that he or she made their own Plurtles in their own studio. And as I studied one of the designs that had been placed on a stand nearby, my eye was drawn to a picture on the wall behind the stand. It depicted the Brockets along with a third person. And it was this third person that drew my attention. For it was none other than… Leon Coutts.

CHAPTER 41

It isn’t often that the two interview rooms at the precinct are both occupied at the same time, but they were at this juncture—one with Uncle Alec interviewing Lacey Dowling and the second with Chase doing the honors and interviewing Erin Brocket, Jodie’s mom.

It made it a little difficult for us to choose which interview to attend, but in the end, we decided to favor the interview with the bully, as it would probably tell us a lot about what had happened these past couple of days.

Lacey wasn’t in the best of moods, but then when you’re caught red-handed committing arson, you probably wouldn’t be. Jodie’s parents had installed a state-of-the-art security system that had caught the person who lit their car on fire on video, as well as the five cats that had circled the house and looked in through all of the windows. They wouldn’t be pressing charges against us, as we were the ones who had been instrumental in getting them to wake up and call the fire department. Jodie had woken up when she became aware of Clarice looking in on her, and Brian had woken up because of Dooley and my presence.

“It isn’t a lot of fun being the daughter of a drug dealer,” said Lacey now, as she played with a soda can. Next to her, a lawyer sat to make sure her rights weren’t being violated. But since Lacey had decided that she wanted to say what she had to say, he might as well not have been there at all. Her parents had told her to keep quiet, but she had ignored their advice.

“A drug dealer?” asked Uncle Alec.

Next to him, Odelia sat, as Uncle Alec felt that the girl might feel more at ease with a woman present.

“You mean… your dad?” she asked.

Lacey nodded. “He thinks I don’t know, but of course I do.”

“But I thought he was in the waste management business?” asked Uncle Alec.

The girl laughed. “Yeah. As if. Drug management is more like it. Or do you really believe that you can become a millionaire by picking up the trash? I don’t think so.”

“How did it work, exactly?” asked Uncle Alec.

“Plurtles,” said the girl. “My dad shifted his merchandise mainly in Plurtles. He made a deal with the guy who created them, and the upshot was they both got extremely rich.” She frowned. “I don’t know the details, as my dad never shared them with me, but when you live with a drug dealer, you pick up things. As I understood it, the drugs were put inside these so-called Plurtles and then shipped over here, where they removed the drugs.”

“So why did you set the Brockets’ car on fire last night, Lacey?” asked Odelia.

“Because Jodie’s family is in cahoots with my dad. If I had known, I would never have become friends with her. I can’t choose my parents, but at least I can choose my friends.”

“Why do you think Jodie’s parents are involved with your dad’s drug business?”

“Their house is full of them! Plurtles everywhere. I happened to sneak down into the basement when I was staying over one night, and her dad had an entire workplace down there. He makes them! He’s probably the guy who came up with the idea to put the drugs inside the Plurtles in the first place.” She shook her head. “To think I was friends with the daughter of a drug dealer.”

“But you are the daughter of a drug dealer.”

Lacey looked up at this and said viciously, “I didn’t choose to be! I was born into this family. But according to what Jodie told me, she was proud! She told me so herself! Proud that her dad was the creator of the Plurtles!”

“I think there must be some misunderstanding,” said Uncle Alec. “First of all, it wasn’t Jodie’s dad who created the Plurtles, but her mom.”

“Same difference.”

“And secondly, they had nothing to do with the idea of using the Plurtles to shift huge volumes of drugs into the country. That was a man named Leon Coutts.”

“Wasn’t he the guy that…”

“Fell off his balcony, yes. He was the person responsible for the worldwide expansion of the Plurtle empire. Jodie’s mom may have created the Plurtles, but he put them on the map and turned them into a very lucrative business. He cut Jodie’s mom out of the deal, by the way.”

“So… Jodie’s parents have no business dealings with my dad?” asked Lacey, much surprised by this.

“None whatsoever,” said Odelia.

“I don’t get it. I thought…”

“Well, you thought wrong,” said Uncle Alec. “Now about this car business…”

“So Jodie isn’t involved in this whole drug business?” she asked with a weak voice.

“No dealings with any drugs whatsoever,” Odelia confirmed.

“Are you sure about that?”

“One hundred percent.”

The girl groaned. “Oh, God.” She looked up at Odelia. “I haven’t been very nice to Jodie these past couple of months, Mrs. Kingsley.”

“I know,” said Odelia. “You bullied her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“So about the car,” Uncle Alec insisted.

“Can you tell her I’m sorry?”

“You can tell her yourself,” Odelia suggested.

“She probably won’t want to have anything to do with me after this,” said Lacey. “And she would be right. After the way I behaved.”

“I think you probably should apologize first,” said Odelia. “And explain why you did what you did. Though even if her parents were involved with your dad, that still doesn’t make Jodie guilty, does it?”

“Guilty by association,” Lacey murmured. “But you’re right. I probably overreacted a little. But I couldn’t come out and talk to her about it, could I? It’s kinda delicate.”

“So about that car,” Uncle Alec repeated.

“Yes, I set it on fire. I did it because I was upset that Jodie had her cat attack me—several times.” She pointed to the side of her face where scratches were visible. “See? Her cat did that.”

“It wasn’t her cat,” said Odelia.

“It wasn’t?”

“No, the Brockets don’t have a cat. Or a dog, for that matter.”

“So why did the animal attack me? I don’t understand.”

“Probably a stray that picked on you for some reason we will never understand. Strays are like that, you know. They can develop a sudden dislike of a person and start following them around for no good reason.”

“It sure was freaky,” said Lacey. “I got the impression it wanted to tell me something, but that’s crazy talk, of course. Cats don’t talk to people.”

“No, they certainly don’t,” said Odelia with a knowing smile.

“So you admit that you set the Brockets’ car on fire?” asked Uncle Alec, eager to tick the next box on his case file.

“Yes, I admit that I set their car on fire. But don’t worry. My dad will buy them a new one.”

I couldn’t help but feel that her dad wouldn’t be doing any such thing, as he would probably be spending a lot of time in prison in the near future, after his daughter had decided to reveal his true business dealings.

And since the interview seemed more or less a wrap, we decided to shift to Interview Room Number One, where Chase was busy interviewing Jodie’s mom. I was really curious to hear her side of the story.

CHAPTER 42

“Yeah, I did create the Plurtles,” said Erin Brocket. “I’ve always been a very creative person and enjoy experimenting with all kinds of materials, but the Plurtles… that was a failed experiment, initially. I had actually been wanting to make them out of clay, but for some reason, I just couldn’t get them right. I didn’t like the texture, and so when my son came home with a plastic cat one day, I thought, why not use plastic? I did, and after a lot of experimenting, I got them to look just the way I wanted. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I had dozens of different designs. My family loved them—especially the kids. And that’s probably where the story would have ended, for I was ready to tackle another project, but a friend of my husband’s suggested I try selling them online. And since I didn’t know the first thing about that, he stepped up and showed me how to go about it.”

“This friend, that wouldn’t have been Leon Coutts by any chance?” asked Chase.

“Yeah, it was. Leon was a colleague. Colin owns a microbrewery, and Leon was in charge of the HR department at the time. He had this ambition to do something in the art world, only he didn’t know what. He used to buy up stuff in China, ship it over here, and then sell it in his own Etsy shop. And so when my husband saw my Plurtles, he figured they might sell well in Leon’s online store. And they did. They were an instant hit.”

“So why is it that Leon Coutts is widely seen as the man who created the Plurtles?”

“That’s a long story,” said Erin.

“I have time,” said Chase with a smile.

“Okay, so first you need to know that I have no head for business. I mean, I have no taste for it and no patience. The last thing I want is to busy myself with administration and marketing and having to deal with customers and all of that stuff. All I want is to sit in my studio and come up with new designs and ideas. And so when Leon suggested he take all of that stuff off my hands and I didn’t have to worry about a thing, I was over the moon. All I needed to do was create new designs. He would have them made in China in one of the factories he collaborated with, have them shipped over here, and sell them online.”

“You must have signed a contract though, right?”

“I did, yes. And that’s where things went wrong. As it turned out, Leon was not a man who acted in good faith when he dealt with us. The contract he made me sign had a clause that transferred all of my rights as a creator to him. I know I should have asked a lawyer to go over the contract, and I still kick myself that I didn’t. But like I said—” She thumped her forehead with the palm of her hand. “No head for business. At all.”

“Leon must have seen the potential and decided he wanted all of the money for himself.”

“That’s exactly what happened. The thing is, for a long time we didn’t even know how well the Plurtles were selling. Leon had told us that after an initial honeymoon period, sales had dwindled and they had stopped selling. And of course we believed him. So when he stopped paying us part of the royalties, we figured we’d had a good run and that was that. It only dawned on us much, much later that the Plurtles were selling like hotcakes.”

“When did you realize you had been duped?”

“When friends of ours started showing them off. I can tell you I was quite shocked to see my own designs suddenly in the hands of our friends. They told us where they had bought them. It wasn’t the same Etsy where Leon had sold them before, but a new store exclusively dedicated to the Plurtles. And then, of course, they became this thing—this hype. This big craze. Suddenly everybody was buying them and they were popping up all over the place.”

“You didn’t take Leon to court?”

“We signed the contract.”

“I think any judge would at least award you part of the proceeds from the sales,” said Chase. “Especially if you could prove that you had come up with the designs.”

“I know, but it was going to be a long legal battle and very costly, if you know how much lawyers charge for their services. Frankly, we couldn’t afford it. So we met with Leon and told him that what he had done was not okay and that he should be ashamed of himself. He admitted that he hadn’t been honest with us and offered us a settlement if we would sign a document that we wouldn’t come after him. Now or in the future.”

“How much did he pay?”

“One million.”

Chase, who had been sipping from his coffee, practically spat it out again. “One million?”

“That’s right. And we figured that was fine. So we signed the agreement and walked away from the whole thing. I continued working on other stuff, though I have to say that the Plurtles will always have a special place in my heart, as they are so unique, you know. And also, they’re connected with the kids.”

“Did you know that Leon Coutts got involved with a drug dealer?” asked Chase. “And used your Plurtles to ship drugs into the country?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” said Erin. “Is this true?”

“I’m afraid it is. Leon supplied the Plurtles, and the dealer, through his contacts, supplied the drugs. Together they ran a pretty lucrative business. They actually had a drug lab set up in Hampton Cove, where they extracted the drugs from the Plurtles.” He eyed her closely. “But of course you knew that, didn’t you, Erin?” He had placed a pendant on the table in front of her. It was the pendant that had been found close to Leon’s body.

The woman stared at the pendant for a moment, her lips moving wordlessly. Finally, she bowed her head. “I guess I did,” she said quietly.

“How did you find out?”

“One of Leon’s Plurtles ended up in the hands of my son,” said Erin. “I knew immediately that there was something wrong with it. At first, I figured that he was skimping on the quality of the plastic he used to produce the Plurtles. But when I confronted him with it, he admitted that he had changed to a different supplier and was having difficulties getting the right quality.”

“I thought you said you’d walked away from the Plurtles.”

“I did, but they were still my baby, you know. I will always be proud of what I created. And I didn’t like that he was putting out an inferior product. There are a lot of fakes on the market, but Leon had always been very careful to make sure that his Plurtles were products of the highest quality. It set them apart from all the counterfeit Plurtles.”

“When did you find out about the drugs?”

“When I sent the Plurtles to the lab to have them examined. I had this sneaking suspicion that Leon was working with counterfeiters to flood the market with fake Plurtles just so he could make more money. But I wasn’t prepared for what I discovered. The tests came back positive for cocaine.”

“Is that why you had a big argument with Leon on the day he died?”

“I went there to confront him about the drugs found in the Plurtles. He denied it at first but finally admitted he had been working with a drug cartel to lace the Plurtles with drugs and use them to ship the stuff into the country. I was disgusted, but he said he was a businessman, and as far as he was concerned, this was just another business deal.”

“And then what happened?”

“We had a fight out on the balcony. He was drunk and became belligerent. Things became heated when I shoved the results of the test in his face. He shoved me, and I pushed back. He lost his balance and… went right over the railing.”

“So you’re saying it was an accident?”

“It was!” she said emphatically. “It was a terrible, tragic accident. Though if I hadn’t gone to see him that day, it wouldn’t have happened, so I guess you could say I was partially to blame.”

Chase nodded. “Why did you take all the remaining Plurtles from his room?”

“He had been working on a new system for mass-producing the Plurtles with a 3D printer, which I thought was simply horrible. They were even worse than the ones he got from his new supplier. I wanted to destroy them. Make sure they wouldn’t get out there.”

“For a person who walked away from the deal with a one-off payment, you are awfully invested in the Plurtles, Erin,” said Chase.

She was quiet for a moment, then finally nodded. “Okay, so on top of the one million payment, we also arranged for a ten percent cut of any royalties accrued.”

“I’ll bet you never notified the IRS of this deal?”

She shook her head. “Leon wanted it that way. He said he’d much rather do business the old-fashioned way. You know, without the government taking a cut of any profits he made. And since his profits weren’t fully above board, that implied that ours couldn’t be either. It was give or take. He wasn’t in a position to make things legitimate for us.”

“So what are we talking about? Suitcases of black money?”

She produced a vague smile. “And some cryptocurrency as well. Though you’d have to ask my husband about that as I don’t know the first thing about bitcoin.”

“So Leon got the name and the fame, and you got the money—or at least part of it.”

“And that’s exactly what I wanted. I never wanted to be famous, or have my face on the cover of a magazine—do television interviews and all of that. Just the thought of exposing myself like that makes me sick to the stomach. Leon didn’t mind. In fact he loved it. And so that worked out well for both of us. Until…” She bit her lip.

“Until he made a deal with the devil.”

“He said he had no other choice if he wanted to expand. To tap the global market he needed a major cash injection, and when he was approached by a local businessman who offered him a deal at extremely favorable conditions, he couldn’t refuse.”

“In exchange for using your Plurtles as drug mules.”

“We were getting paid from those same profits,” said Erin. “Which meant that we were profiting off the introduction of that poison on our streets. I couldn’t have that. And so I wanted to have it out with him. I wanted him to stop. He told me that he couldn’t. Said that when you get in bed with the mafia, it’s a one-way street. No way out. Which meant that he had duped us into working with the same dangerous people he was involved with.”

“Randal Dowling.”

Erin nodded. “When he gave me the name, I didn’t know what I was hearing. Randal’s daughter used to be best friends with Jodie. She was over at our house for sleepovers all the time, and Jodie spent a lot of time over at the Dowlings’ place. It was a nightmare.”

“When did you make the connection between Lacey Dowling bullying your daughter and the business dealings of her dad?”

“I didn’t know what the connection was exactly, but I knew there had to be something. And that we were responsible. That I was responsible—for all of it. The drugs, the bullying—everything.”

At that moment, she burst into tears, and Odelia entered the interview room with a box of Kleenex.

CHAPTER 43

After the stirring events of the past couple of days, I, for one, was glad that things were gradually returning to normal—as far as anything can ever be normal when you’re a member of the Poole family, that is. Tex had fired up his barbecue and invited the rest of the family to partake in this tradition of sharing a meal in the Poole backyard, and the four of us were present—as cats always are when there’s some tasty nosh to be had.

A semblance of peace had returned to the Trapper and Poole households, which the exchange of Plurtles had gone a long way to accomplish. Like a sort of ancient ritual, Ted had returned Tex’s Plurtle—the one offering a striking resemblance to a marmot. Tex had returned the favor by handing Ted back his Plurtle, as supplied by Scarlett, who had decided that crime doesn’t pay, especially when you’re a member of the neighborhood watch, and had handed the stolen item to Tex, who had restored it to his neighbor.

The only thing that Ted wasn’t getting back was Max One, but that couldn’t be helped. After all, even turtles have agency, and Max One had clearly stated on more than one occasion that the last thing he wanted was to go and live with the Trappers again, and we all felt very strongly that we were duty-bound to honor his wish.

As a consequence, Ted had decided not to use a real turtle anymore to sculpt his Plurtle but to simply download images from the internet and use those, the same way his neighbor did. The turtles themselves had found a new home with the Brockets, after young Brian had expressed a fervent wish to own an actual turtle instead of the plastic ones that he’d seen floating around the house for years. His wish had come true, and instead of being gifted one turtle, he had received no less than six, with the express stipulation, as formulated by Odelia, who had done the gifting, that the family of turtles were to stay together and that under no circumstances could Brian give away one of them to his friends.

Brian understood and had sworn a solemn oath that he would take care of the turtles as if they were his own brothers and sisters, and they would live a happy life with him—and I think we all felt that the little boy was the person best placed to honor this pledge. From all of our dealings with young Brian, I think we had come away with the impression that he was as honorable and trustworthy a young man as you could ever hope to find. The way he had looked out for his big sister had proven that he was of sterling character and possessed a heart of gold and a courage greater than most superheroes put together.

“I think this is just swell,” said Brutus as he sniffed the air. It was true that Tex had improved his skills to a great degree. He might not be able to create a Plurtle that actually resembles a turtle, but he can grill a mean piece of meat that gets those gastric juices flowing and the stomach grumbling in happy anticipation of the feast about to unfold.

The four of us were lying on the porch swing while our humans gibbered and prattled on about this topic and that—as often happens when humans get together. Scarlett was happy that she had finally gotten her hands on some kosher Plurtles—guaranteed one hundred percent cocaine-free—from the hands of none other than Erin Brocket herself, the creator of the Plurtles.

The Brockets had gone out of their way to get the Plurtle business on the right track again—all legal and above board this time. A team of legal experts had negotiated on their behalf with the IRS and several government agencies to make sure that everything was on the up and up from now on. There were large fines to be paid and back taxes that needed to flow from the coffers of the Brockets into those of the federal and state governments. But when all was said and done, Erin could finally take full ownership of the Plurtle empire, though she had decided to appoint her husband as the head of the actual business while she occupied herself with the creation of new designs for the beloved ornaments. And since she now had no less than six turtles darting about her home, she had plenty of inspiration.

The death of Leon Coutts had been ruled an unfortunate accident, and his business partner Randal Dowling, Lacey’s dad, had been arrested in connection to his drug-dealing ways and would serve a deservedly long stretch in the pokey.

“Do you think that Lacey and Jodie will ever be friends again?” asked Dooley. “I mean, it’s important to be friends, Max. And also important to forgive and forget and offer second chances to the people we love, you know.”

“I do think they’re both willing to give their friendship another shot,” I said. “Lacey has explained everything to Jodie and has offered her sincerest apologies, and Jodie has accepted them.”

“So there will be no more bullying?” asked Harriet.

“There will be no more bullying,” I said firmly.

Clarice had walked up from the house and joined us on the swing. “What did I miss?” she asked, then glanced over to the grill, where the chef was whipping up all kinds of delicious-smelling goodies. “I hope there’s enough for all of us,” she said as she licked her lips.

“Knowing Tex, he’ll make sure of that,” said Brutus. “There has never been a barbecue where the food ran out before people’s stomachs were filled to the bursting point.”

“Well, that’s fine then,” said Clarice with satisfaction. “I’ve developed quite an appetite.”

“We missed you last night for cat choir,” said Harriet.

“Oh, I was patrolling the Brocket place again,” said Clarice.

“But… I thought the threat was lifted,” said Brutus. “Lacey and Jodie made up—Max just told us.”

“Be that as it may,” said Clarice, “you never know with these bullies. They are a very unforgiving sort, not easy to deter. But it is as you say, Max. The girls have made up. Last night Jodie was organizing a birthday party and Lacey was invited, along with Maddison and some other girls from school, and from what I could tell, they were having a great time. At one point they even invited me to join them, and even though I’m not a big fan of birthday parties as a rule, I have to say they certainly made me feel more than welcome.” She smiled. “Lacey even offered her apologies for saying certain things about me that no cat should ever be exposed to. She said she now saw that I was a brave and valiant soul.” She placed her head on her paws. “These are the moments we do it for, right, you guys?”

“I guess,” said Harriet. It was obvious that she wasn’t all that keen on joining a birthday party, and that the fact that Clarice had decided to accept surprised her a great deal.

It just went to show how much our friend had changed over the course of the past couple of years. From a feral and quite frankly scary street cat, she had morphed into the best friend a human could hope to have—and also a loyal friend to the four of us.

Scarlett came over and took up position on the swing. She tickled Clarice under the chin. “Well, where were you last night, missy? I missed you, you know.”

“I won’t do it again, Scarlett,” Clarice promised. “Last night was the last time I spent in my official capacity as Jodie’s guardian angel. She doesn’t need me anymore, and that’s a great relief, to be honest.” She smiled. “It’s a big responsibility for a single cat to carry, and even though I think I pulled it off, I’m not sure I’ll be taking any future clients after this.”

“But you do it so well, Clarice,” said Brutus with a wink at me. “You’re a true vigilante.”

“I know I am, Brutus,” she said. “But it’s taken a lot out of me, you know. I mean, just look at me. I think I’ve lost at least three pounds, if not more.”

Which was a good thing, as she had started packing a little too much weight around the midsection. Scarlett felt the same way, for she patted her cat’s head. “You look much better than you did before, honey. So whatever it is you’ve been doing, you better keep it up because it’s obviously doing you a lot of good.”

She returned to the others, and as we were still in anticipation of the tasty goodies, I wasn’t really in the mood for a lot of talk. An empty stomach impedes my tendency to blab, and I think this goes for a lot of my fellow cats. Give us food, and we become garrulous. Starve us, and we sink into a torpor. We weren’t at that stage, especially since we could see that food was coming, but it was undeniable there was a certain lull in the conversation.

Not with our humans, though. It seems that the hungrier they get, the more talkative they become. Presently Gran was telling the others all about the big drug bust she had been instrumental in bringing to a positive conclusion, even though Chase didn’t seem to fully agree with her account of the night in question or the all-important role she had played.

That didn’t matter to Odelia, who had written a killer article, and whose paper had been selling lots and lots of copies lately, something that would hopefully pull it back from the brink and induce Dan to keep it ticking over for another couple of weeks, months, or years. It didn’t hurt that Erin, out of the goodness of her heart, and gratefulness for all that Odelia had done for her family, had decided to give away ten Plurtles to Gazette readers. The moment the giveaway had been announced, subscription numbers had shot through the roof.

“There’s one thing I’ve been wondering, Max,” said Harriet.

“Mh?” I asked, brought out of my ruminations on the events of the past couple of days.

“Who is Figurine?”

I smiled. “Why, Erin Brocket, of course. In her dealings with Leon, Figurine was the name that Erin had chosen, as they couldn’t always trust that their messages wouldn’t be intercepted by government agents eager to make sure they also got their cut of the ginormous success and sales of the Plurtles.”

“So he accused her of pushing him off that balcony?”

“I happen to believe Erin’s account of the events as they transpired,” I said. “There was some sort of argument between the two about the direction he was taking the Plurtle business, and perhaps even some pushing and shoving. But I do not for one moment believe that she ever meant for him to fall from that balcony and meet his maker. All she wanted was for him to stop using her precious Plurtles to traffic drugs.”

“How did her pendant end up next to Leon’s body?”

“It must have come off in the tussle, and tumbled down along with Leon.”

“I also believe Erin,” said Dooley. “If Max says that she’s telling the truth, I believe her, because I believe Max. Because he is very smart, and he knows.”

“Be that as it may,” said Brutus. “It was still a suspicious thing for her to grab all the Plurtles she could find and run from the scene. She should have stayed put and called the police. The fact that she didn’t makes her look very suspicious.”

“I know,” I said. “But she panicked. She saw the whole house of cards falling down and wanted nothing to do with it. Mostly, she wanted to protect her family.”

The meat was finally being served, and as tradition demanded, the feline contingent was the first to be offered some of the goodies the good doctor had whipped up. It wasn’t long before all that could be heard was the sound of five cats digging in to their heart’s content, with the humans following suit. Sometimes I think the reason humans like to get together on these occasions is because food simply tastes so much better when it is enjoyed in the presence of good friends and family.

Though I have to admit that for cats, this isn’t the case. On the contrary, I find myself eating a lot faster, while keeping an eye on my fellow cats to make sure they don’t try and muscle me away from my bowl and eat my share as well as theirs. I know the tendency is always there, from the way that Brutus eyes me while I eye him, and Harriet keeps a close eye on me while I keep her in my sights. The only one who doesn’t seem to be afflicted by this typical cat’s disease is Dooley. He focuses on his food and doesn’t look up while he eats. I guess you could say that he’s a very trusting cat, though the less charitable observer might label him naive.

“And here it is!” Tex suddenly jubilated as he held up a strange ornament. “The one and only Poole Plurtle!”

For a moment, we all stopped eating and stared at the object. It didn’t look like a fat marmot, per se, but it certainly wasn’t what you might call a turtle.

“What is that thing, Max?” asked Brutus.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “It looks like... a big beetle of some kind?”

“It’s a cockroach,” said Clarice. “It has all the hallmarks of a cockroach. See those antennae?”

“I think those are its legs,” I said.

“Nah. They’re antennae. Typical cockroach. And I should know, for I’ve eaten plenty of them. Very crunchy, cockroaches. Tasty, too. Succulent, once you get past the exoskeleton.”

“I think it’s a beaver,” said Dooley. “I’ve seen lots of Discovery Channel nature documentaries, and this is exactly what a beaver looks like.”

“I’m not sure what it is,” said Brutus, “but it smells like defeat to me. Tex will never win with that competition.”

“Poor Tex,” said Dooley. “He wants to win so badly, but he doesn’t have the talent.”

“He should use one of those 3D printers that Leon Coutts used,” said Brutus. “That’s the only way he can win this thing.”

“I’m sure that 3D printers are not allowed,” I said. “The rules of the competition clearly state that every Plurtle has to be handmade, and if it isn’t, the person will be disqualified.”

“I think it’s lovely, honey,” said Marge, always the supportive wife, no matter what her husband comes up with.

“A very... interesting approach to creating a Plurtle,” said Gran, mincing her words for once. But then she was full of her son-in-law’s food and probably would have felt awkward criticizing his creation.

“What is it?” asked Uncle Alec as he glanced up from his plate for the briefest of moments.

“Why, a Plurtle, of course,” said Tex. “For the Plurtle competition!”

“What is a Plurtle competition?” Uncle Alec insisted, speaking around his food.

“The Plurtle people have organized a competition for the best Plurtle,” Odelia explained. “The person who wins will see their Plurtle mass-produced and sold in the official Plurtle store, potentially earning them a nice sum.”

“I think Tex is going to win,” said Charlene. “No question.”

“It’s certainly very innovative,” said Scarlett. Even she, the biggest fan of Plurtles in Hampton Cove, couldn’t fully endorse Tex’s radical take on the Plurtle.

“I wouldn’t give up my day job, Tex,” said Clarice, and that was probably the most honest thing anyone had said. Good thing Tex didn’t speak our language, or he might have cut off our supplies, and that would have been a shame. The man might not be able to create a decent Plurtle, but he had become a serviceable grill master. It had taken years of hard graft, which told me that possibly he would have to put in years of work to perfect the Plurtle. Maybe in ten or twenty years he might be able to pull it off.

Unfortunately, these competitions don’t offer that kind of time frame. But then they never stop telling us that participating is more important than winning. Though I wasn’t sure that Tex saw it that way.

A head now popped up over the hedge, accompanied by another Plurtle. This one actually looked like a Plurtle. It was the one that Scarlett had stolen from Ted, and which he had managed to perfect even more, making it look like the real deal.

“What is that thing?” Ted asked as he studied his neighbor’s design with a look of astonishment.

“This is my Plurtle,” said Tex proudly. “An innovative design, just as Scarlett said.”

“It doesn’t look like a turtle,” said Ted.

“It does too,” said Tex. “And besides, the brief said to create an original and personal take on the Plurtle, so that’s what I did. Unlike you, who have made a carbon copy.”

Ted studied his own Plurtle. “At least it looks like a turtle,” he said.

“That’s not the point, Ted,” said Tex. “The point is to give it a twist.”

“You gave it such a big twist that it looks like anything but a turtle,” Ted insisted.

Tex crossed the distance to the fence with a couple of steps and went nose to nose with his neighbor. “Are you calling my Plurtle a failure, Ted?”

“I’m calling your Plurtle a non-turtle, Tex. In other words, a Nturtle. And I’m sure the jury will agree with me that you should be disqualified for not complying with the brief.”

“And I’m calling your Plurtle derivative, Ted, and I will ask the jury to have you disqualified for a lack of inspiration.”

For a moment, the two neighbors faced off, but then a smile appeared on Ted’s face. “You’re probably right. My Plurtle isn’t very original.”

“No, you’re right,” said Tex. “My Plurtle is too out there. I guess I overdid it.”

“Oh, well, it’s just a competition,” said Ted with a shrug.

“What’s going on, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Yeah, why aren’t they slugging it out?” asked Brutus.

I pointed to the barbecue. “It’s the Maillard Reaction. A phenomenon that occurs when meat is roasted, bread is baked, coffee beans are roasted, or pizza is made. There are entire scientific studies devoted to the effect. The Maillard Reaction creates a certain aroma and taste that has a profound effect on a person. To the extent it makes people feel happy and relaxed.”

The upshot was that Tex invited the Trappers over to join the Pooles for their barbecue, and soon the two men were comparing notes on how to create the perfect Plurtle and laughing heartily at the challenges they had faced.

“They’re bonding, Max,” said Dooley.

“Bonding like brothers,” said Brutus.

“Add beer and they’ll be hugging and kissing soon,” said Clarice with an expression of distaste. “Humans. They’re so weak and malleable. Like sheep.”

“I much prefer it this way,” I said.

“You know, maybe we should introduce this Mallard Reaction to countries at war,” said Dooley.

“Maillard Reaction,” I corrected him.

“Exactly. We should spread it around on the battlefield, you know, and in the trenches. It might make people stop shooting at each other. Now wouldn’t that be something?”

And that, I thought, was possibly the cleverest thing that anyone had ever said.

THE END

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ABOUT NIC

Nic has a background in political science and before being struck by the writing bug worked odd jobs around the world (including but not limited to massage therapist in Mexico, gardener in Italy, restaurant manager in India, and Berlitz teacher in Belgium).

When he’s not writing he enjoys curling up with a good (comic) book, watching British crime dramas, French comedies or Nancy Meyers movies, sampling pastry (apple cake!), pasta and chocolate (preferably the dark variety), twisting himself into a pretzel doing morning yoga, going for a brisk walk, and spoiling his feline assistants Lily and Ricky.

He lives with his wife (and aforementioned cats) in a small village smack dab in the middle of absolutely nowhere and is probably writing his next ‘Mysteries of Max’ book right now.

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Published by Puss in Books.

Edited by Chereese Graves.

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