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“Nothing,” Harriet assured her. “The litter box is the answer to all your problems. And all this for a measly nine ninety-nine, sales tax included. Buy yours now and get a bag of litter for free. Deal ends Friday at midnight.”

I had to admit I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable about all this talk of the litter box as the be-all and end-all of life. Gran had jotted these notions down on a paper napkin before giving us our instructions, saying we needed to drive our point home with zeal and excitement and close! close! close! that deal. But now I wondered if we weren’t overdoing it. I mean, the litter box is a nice invention, as inventions go, but it can only do so much. It has never contributed in a significant way to my complexion or the glossiness of my coat, nor has it ever given me confidence, strength or happiness.

Do I feel better after a visit to the box? Yes, I do, but doesn’t everyone feel better after relieving themselves of a surplus amount of bodily fluids or other excess baggage?

“I think our mission here is done, you guys,” said Shanille now, beaming with visible satisfaction. Preaching the non-existent benefits of the litter box seemed to come quite naturally to her, but then of course she had an excellent example in Father Reilly. By all accounts the man was an excellent preacher, and equipped with a silver tongue.

“I want this litter box,” said Fifi now. “Where can I get it?”

“Well, I’m sure Gran will have given your human all the information he needs,” said Harriet. “So you can expect your brand-new litter box to show up any day now.”

“Um, I think Gran’s mission was a bust,” I said. “Kurt slammed the door in her face.”

“So… no litter box for me?” asked Fifi, disappointed.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” said Shanille. “I’ll tell my human to talk to your human. And when Father Reilly speaks, people listen.”

“You think Father Reilly should join the CCREC cause?” asked Harriet.

“Yes, I do,” said Shanille. “I’m sure this is a cause he’ll happily support. Now all I need to do is convince Grandma Muffin to talk to Father Reilly and turn him into a CCREC’er.”

I was still having misgivings about the whole CCREC’er mission. But then again, sometimes the end justifies the means, and if we wanted our streets clean and smelling like roses—or baby powder—then maybe the CCREC’er way was the only way.

By then Kurt had found us, and chased us out of his backyard and into Odelia’s. And even as we hopped the fence, I could hear Fifi cry, “I want my litter box!”

Our campaign was clearly a success.

And the only price was my conscience.

Chapter 11

“Look here, Mr. Mayor,” said Chase, “you can’t do this. Dolores is a hard-working woman and, more importantly, she’s practically like a mascot for our police force. A mainstay for so many years she’s become a fixture—a trusted figure.”

“Listen to yourself, Chase,” said Mayor Dirk Dunham, who was a portly man in his early sixties, with a full pepper-and-salt beard and perfect gold coif of which he was particularly proud. “A fixture. A mainstay. A mascot. And I’ll add another word to the collection: a relic. Dolores Peltz is a relic of the force, and you know what happens with relics, don’t you? They’re relegated to the museum, where they belong. But a police station isn’t a museum, it’s a vital part of our community, and that community deserves a vivacious, competent, attractive point of reference, and clearly Fiona is that person.”

“But Mr. Mayor!”

“Dirk, please,” said the Mayor as he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

Chase had decided to pay the Mayor a visit in his lair: town hall. He now wondered if he hadn’t made a fatal mistake. The Mayor was on his home turf, and had the home team advantage. Maybe he should simply have accosted the man when he dropped by the police station, and sprung his opinion on him there, where he was out of his element.

“Look, Chase, I won’t conceal the fact that I feel for your Dolores. I’m not just the mayor of this fine town. First and foremost I’m a citizen, and I, too, have known Dolores forever. But that’s exactly the problem: nothing lasts forever, son. And sometimes you need a visionary like me to step in and herald in the new. All change is painful, but it’s also vital. My niece is going to be like a breath of fresh air to that stuffy old precinct. She’s going to drag you into the twenty-first century, whether you like to or not. And speaking of fresh air, have you ever given any thought to your own future, Chase?”

“Um, yeah, I guess I have. I would like to stay here, Mr. Mayor. I’ve made Hampton Cove my home and I like it here.”

“So you’ve decided to stick around, huh? No intention of returning to the NYPD?”

“No, sir. I’ll stick around here for as long as this town will have me.”

The Mayor nodded with satisfaction.“I can assure you that this town is fond of you, Chase. In fact it isn’t too much to say that Hampton Covians have embraced you and now consider you one of their own.”