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“Look, Kurt, it’s very simple,” said Gran. “Either you stop that dog of yours from taking a dump in my cat’s litter box, or I’m going to start taking my morning dump on your porch from now on. How does that sound?”

He shot her a nasty look, then retreated, like a turtle’s head returning to its shell.

“You shouldn’t talk to the neighbors like that, Ma,” said Uncle Alec. “It’s important we all get along.”

“Oh, I get along great, it’s him that’s not getting along,” she grunted, and pronged a piece of lettuce, then eyed it with distinct malice.

“Well, I’m sure glad we get to keep you on as chief, Chief,” said Chase, clapping his superior officer on the wide back. “I was afraid you were serious about me following in your footsteps.”

“I was serious!” said Uncle Alec. “I think you’d make a great chief of police.”

“But you’re staying on, aren’t you, Alec?” asked Tex, flicking a burger patty straight into Odelia’s backyard. It was sizzling hot and judging from the loud cry of anguish, it had just landed on our neighbor’s bald pate. Served him right for spying on us, I guess.

“That all depends on who the next mayor is,” said Alec. And when Gran’s eyes started to sparkle, he immediately added, “And no, it’s not gonna be me, Ma!”

“You’re a mean bastard, Alec Lip,” Gran snarled. “You don’t even want to grant your old mother’s dying wish!”

“You’re not dying, Ma.”

“I could be dying,” she said as she stared at that piece of lettuce some more, as if it might be the final nail in her coffin.

“I’m just glad that Grace is back, and that Jock is in jail,” said Marge, “where he belongs.”

“Amen to that,” said Tex cheerfully, unable to contain his glee to see his old love rival behind bars.

“So what’s happening with Johnny and Jerry?” asked Odelia. “Any trace of those two?”

Chase shook his head sadly.“We’ve asked the Mexican police to help us find them, but they’ve not been entirely forthcoming.”

“So they’re in Mexico?”

“It would appear so. At least according to the information we got from the airline.”

“How much did they take?”

“According to the bank manager not that much. Maybe fifty thousand?”

“Not enough to retire on,” said Uncle Alec.

“I got a nice postcard from Johnny last week,” said Marge conversationally, and her words startled the entire company.

“Mom! And you didn’t tell us?” Odelia cried.

“It’s a very nice postcard,” she said defensively. “And it was addressed to me personally, not the library.”

She disappeared into the house, then returned a minute later with the card.

“’Having a nice time here on the beach in Tulum,’” Odelia read, “’but I miss the library and was wondering if you could put in a good word for me if I decide to apply for the job. Sunny greetings from Tulum, Johnny. PS: Jerry says hi.’”

“So I guess they’re in Tulum,” said Gran with a grin.

“Gimme that card,” said Alec, and snatched it from his niece’s fingers.

“Isn’t that nice?” said Dooley. “Johnny wants to change careers.”

“I think the only career he’ll get is printing license plates,” said Brutus.

“He might get a reduced sentence because he helped the authorities catch the Mayor and his cronies,” I said.

And somehow I hoped that he did. Marge seemed to like Johnny, and that meant something. Marge is a librarian, and librarians are smart. They have to be, from scanning all those books.

In the meantime, I was glad this whole episode was finally behind us. All this hawking litter and checking different types of dung had seriously worn me out, and I now longed for a nice long vacation, free from detecting or the strains of selling litter.

And just as I was about to close my eyes to take a nap, a little doggie came tripping past. It was Fifi and she gave me a wink. Harriet and the others hadn’t seen her, as they’d all dozed off by then, their bellies full and their minds at ease.

Fifi tiptoed into the house through the pet flap. Moments later, she returned.

I have to say her skin looked great, and so did her fur. Even her muscularity had improved.

Could it be that cat litter was the miracle cure after all? I mean, look at us cats. Our fur is shiny, our health optimal, and our muscles nicely toned. Must be the litter, right?

And I’d just dozed off when I heard a noise and saw Rufus tiptoe past.

He disappeared into the house, then returned moments later.

I was about to take another stab at this nap thing, when a third dog came tripping up, disappeared inside, then emerged a minute later. I recognized him as Cooper the dog that had begun to favor Brutus’s litter box. He had the cheek to give me a big grin and two thumbs up, before sashaying off, a swing in his step and a song on his lips.

And I’d finally fallen asleep when I was alarmed by triple screams of horror from Harriet, Brutus and Dooley. I guess the dog litter revolution rages on unabated.

Now see, that’s the problem with being a cat: everybody wants to be us.

Even dogs.

20. PURRFECTLY DEAD

Prologue