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“She can’t do that,” said Harriet, flicking a look at Brutus as if hoping he’d back her up. “Can she, sweetie pie?”

“Of course she can. It’s her house—her rules. If she wants to take in an elephant or a rhinoceros who’s going to stop her?”

“Animal control? I think we should have a say in this, don’t you?”

Brutus shrugged.“Hey, we’re just the cats. It’s the humans that make the rules.”

“No, but we live here, too. She can’t just decide to take in three strangers and not ask our opinion. And I, for one, vote against adding to the pack.” She gestured to the rest of us, the kittens meanwhile playing with one of the ping pong balls Odelia had thrown on the floor. “Four is company, seven is a crowd. Isn’t that how the saying goes?”

“More like two’s company, three’s a crowd,” I said.

“Whatever! She can’t keep adding cats. We’re already overcrowded in here as it is.”

“We do have two houses and two backyards,” Brutus pointed out. He quickly shut up when Harriet gave him one of her death-ray glares.

“We also have the park,” said Dooley, oblivious of the danger he was in. Contradicting Harriet can prove hazardous to one’s physical integrity. “And the street—the entire town of Hampton Cove, really.”

“Nobody asked you, Dooley,” Harriet snapped.

Dooley looked confused.“But I thought you said—”

“Never mind what I said! Eitherthey go, or I go. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” I said, and the others murmured their agreement. Harriet had made herself so clear, in fact, that I had a feeling she was going to be sorely disappointed when Odelia told her it was her way or the highway. And why wouldn’t she? This was Odelia’s house, after all. Us cats might think we are in charge, but at the end of the day we simply aren’t.

The kittens must have spotted Harriet, for they now came walking up to her, still a little faltering in their step.

“Don’t you dare,” she said in a voice that shook with indignation.

The kittens stared, clearly never having seen anything like her before.

“This fur is perfect, not a blemish. And if you so much as think about touching me… hey!”

The kittens hadn’t merely thought about touching her—they’d gone and done it. More, they’d jumped on top of Harriet and were now using her for trampoline practice.

“Yay, yay, yay,” they were singing as they hopped up and down.

“No! Get off! Go away! You can’t—Brutus! Do something!” Harriet cried.

Brutus jumped into the fray, but to no avail. Like fleas, the kittens jumped from Harriet to Brutus and back, having a whale of a time.

“Come here, you little…” Brutus was growling, but even his foulest glare or deepest growl couldn’t stop the cats from running rings around him and Harriet.

And as I watched on, I said,“Now there’s a sight you don’t see every day.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” Dooley agreed.

Chapter 12

Odelia walked into the police station, her grandmother right on her heels, and immediately recognized in the diminutive figure of the fair-haired woman who sat on a chair in the waiting room the famous actress who’d been Jeb’s first wife and loyal partner for twenty-five years, until he traded her in for a younger model in the form of Camilla. Next to Helena sat her lookalike daughter Fae. Both women got up when Odelia approached.

“So you must be Odelia,” said Helena as she pressed Odelia’s hand. “Fae told me what she did.”

“Mom wasn’t happy about it at first,” Fae explained, “but she quickly warmed to the idea when she realized Dad could be in jail for the rest of his life.”

“Jeb can’t be in jail. He just can’t. He’s so sensitive. Jail will crush his soul.”

“I understand,” said Odelia. “The thing is, and I’m going to be totally upfront with you—I’m still not entirely convinced Jeb didn’t do this.”

Fae rolled her eyes.“Oh, please. Haven’t you listened to a word I said? Dad isn’t like that. He’s not a killer.”

“He was pretty doped up,” Gran remarked in that subtle way of hers.

Both women turned to her.“And who are you?” asked Fae frostily.

“My name is Vesta Muffin and I’m a flogger,” said Gran, extending her wrinkly, bony hand. “And I’m here to tell you that I’m gonna fight for your cause until my dying breath.”

Helena eyed Gran uncertainly.“I thought you said you don’t believe in our cause?”

“If you want to know what I think,” said Gran, warming to her subject, “it’s that your precious Jeb was high as a kite when suddenly this bimbo who’d been suing him for his last cent shows up at his door. So, being baked out of his skull on coke and meth and whatnot, he grabs a knife and stabs her to death in a frenzy the likes of which this country hasn’t seen since Charlie Manson and his merry band of whacked-out psychos. Then he zonked out and when he woke up he didn’t remember a thing. That’s what I think happened.”

“Dad would never do that,” said Fae, tears springing to her eyes. “He would never kill anyone, drugs or no drugs.”