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“Yeah, I don’t think this is the right time to introduce the litter box idea.”

“Gran?” asked Harriet. “I talked to Victor’s dog, and he seems to think there’s some truth to the werewolf story. He says other dogs in the area have seen the werewolf, too.”

Vesta, who couldn’t respond while Father Reilly was there, simply nodded to indicate she’d heard. She glanced around. It was a spooky area, she thought, and one she’d always steered clear of before. It was secluded and out of the way, and she could very well believe a monster could be lurking in these old woods. Then again, Victor Ball wasn’t exactly a reliable witness, and if no one but a couple of farmyard dogs had seen or heard this so-called werewolf, she was inclined to dismiss the stories as a lot of baloney.

“Great,” she said. “Another bust. Maybe our next one will be more susceptible to the mission.”

“Let’s hope so,” said Father Reilly.

They decided to walk the distance to the next farmhouse. All these small farmers had dogs, so at least there was a market there for their litter boxes. Now all they needed to find was one with an open mind. And one that didn’t start babbling about werewolves…

And just when they’d turned into the road, suddenly a battered old pickup came coughing up to them, a window was rolled down, and Odelia’s head came poking out.

“Gran! You have to stop this nonsense immediately!”

Oh, hell. If it wasn’t imaginary werewolves, it was nosy parker granddaughters turning up to cramp her style.

Chapter 25

Uncle Alec had dropped us off at the house, and when we entered, fully expecting to find Brutus and Harriet and Odelia, we were surprised to find that the house was empty.

“They must still be going door to door with Gran,” I said when we’d ascertained that we were, indeed, the only ones there.

“I feel guilty now, Max,” said Dooley. “For leaving Harriet and Brutus to do the heavy lifting and convince Hampton Cove’s dogs to adopt the litter way.”

“Don’t feel guilty,” I said. “Finding Grace is more important than the litter revolution.”

“I guess so,” he said, but didn’t look convinced.

We ambled into the backyard, not really having any purpose to fulfill: Odelia was handling the investigation into Grace’s disappearance, and so were Alec and Chase, having the case well in hand, and Harriet, Brutus and Gran were tackling the dog issue.

A sound coming from Kurt Mayfield’s backyard alerted us to the presence of Fifi. She was jumping up and down, trying to peek over the fence, and emitting squeaky sounds to attract our attention. When finally we hopped the fence, balancing on top of it, she was over the moon.

“Oh, there you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you guys. I just wanted to ask you: what’s the ETA on that wonderful litter box? I’ve been keeping in my business until I can enjoy the full benefits of the litter experience, but so far nothing seems forthcoming.”

“Um… I guess that’s between you and your owner,” I said, a little lamely, I admit, but what else could I tell the tiny Yorkie?

“Between me and my owner!” said the dog, not even remotely as shy and bashful as before. “But you promised I would be able to reap the full benefits of the litter experience. Clear skin, shiny coat of fur, self-confidence, muscular appearance… You can’t simply dangle all these promises infront of a dog’s twitchy little nose and then not follow through on them. I want my litter box. Where is my litter box?”

“Look, Shanille needs to get Father Reilly to talk to Kurt, and until that happens…”

“Yes?”

“No litter box,” said Dooley.

Fifi uttered a terrifying squeal of horror.“No litter box!”

“Dooley is right,” I said. “As long as Kurt is unwilling to part with his hard-earned cash and shell out for your box, there isn’t going to be a litter experience for you, Fifi.”

“But… I need that litter! I need that clear skin, that nice shiny fur and all the rest!”

Dooley had turned to me. He clearly felt for the poor doggie.“Maybe she can go on your litter box?” he now suggested. “Or mine or Harriet’s?”

“Dooley, no,” I said, and tried to indicate by the intensity of my stare that this was not a good idea. Not a good idea at all.

But too late. Fifi was already jumping up and down with excitement.“Can I go on Harriet’s litter box? Pretty, pretty please? She has the most gorgeous fur and I’m sure that if I can just go on her litter box this once I’ll have the same shininess and sheen!”

I was going to tell her that this whole litter box idea Harriet had been feeding her was one big sham, but looking into that hopeful little face, and those pleading little eyes, I simply didn’t have the heart. So instead I found myself agreeing to her request.

“All right. You can use Harriet’s litter box. But just this once, you hear?”

“How are we going to get her across?” asked Dooley.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” said Fifi, and before our very eyes she disappeared into the void, then abruptly reappeared on our side of the fence.

“I dug a hole,” she said, panting a little with excitement.