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“Because she can’t engage in any illegal activities,” I said. “Since aiding and abetting criminals would make her a criminal herself, and that would open her up to all kinds of trouble. And besides, Odelia is practically a cop, so she can’t possibly be instrumental in covering up a crime.”

“Still, it’s very sad for Laia and Jay,” said Dooley, who clearly had taken a liking to the couple, as had I, as a matter of fact. But that didn’t make me blind to the fact that they’d committed a crime, and probably should face the consequences.

Chase agreed to hold off on starting an official inquiry for now, giving the couple a chance to come clean, and then we drove back to the office, Odelia to finish up her article, and Dooley and I to take a well-deserved nap.

CHAPTER 20

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That night we were all relaxing in the garden, taking in some of those final rays of sunshine before that big benevolent ball of fire in the sky called it a night. Our humans were all gathered around the garden table, discussing the case, and also enjoying a good deal of mild ribbing of Tex and his choice of undergarments, while we cats enjoyed a relaxing time on the lawn, always a nice proposition on account of the cooling properties grass seems to hold, especially after a hot day.

Night soon fell, and the human contingent moved indoors, while we relocated to the paved terrace, which holds warmth a long time after the sun has set, and returns it to those tender underbellies.

And we were just chatting amiably about this and that, as one does, when all of a sudden a masked figure streaked out from Odelia’s geraniums, snatched up Harriet, and took off with her!

The whole thing lasted all of two seconds, and before we could respond, Harriet was gone!

“Hey!” Brutus finally cried. “Come back here!”

But of course the masked marauder had no intention of returning to the scene of the crime, at least not so fast, and stayed gone. Instead, we all went in search of the man, and our friend, but by the time we arrived at the front lawn, where presumably he’d taken her, a car engine gunned and a sports car of some kind took off at great speed, presumably carrying both cat and snatcher with it!

Brutus made a valiant attempt to race after the car, but soon had to admit defeat against that much horsepower under the hood, and returned to us, panting, and clearly distressed.

“They took her!” he cried, as if we hadn’t witnessed the same scene he had. “They just took Harriet!”

“I know,” I said, trying to remain calm under the circumstances, and keep a clear head. “Let’s tell Odelia so she can call the police.”

So we hurried inside, and as soon as we’d relayed our disturbing tale to Odelia and the rest of the company, the powerful machinery that constitutes the long arm of the law cranked into motion like a well-oiled machine. It didn’t hurt that Uncle Alec was there, and he only had to bark a few orders into his phone and I imagined a dragnet of epic proportion came crashing down upon our small town, making sure the miscreant wouldn’t be able to abscond with our friend.

Or to use Uncle Alec’s vernacular: “Trust me, the bastard won’t get far!”

“It must be the same guy who came into my office,” Odelia said.

“What guy? What are you talking about?” asked Gran.

“Some guy came into my office this morning, wanting to buy Harriet and Brutus. He’d seen her painting video, and offered me five hundred for the cats.”

“Hey, a guy offered me two hundred last night.”

“Yeah, it’s the same guy,” said Odelia. “He said you showed him a video of Harriet and Brutus and he thought it was the next best thing since Bob Ross and was going to make Harriet famous.” She frowned. “What was his name again?”

“Gallagher Davenport,” I supplied.

“That’s right! Gallagher Davenport.” And immediately she supplied her uncle with this information.

“I’m sending a unit,” Uncle Alec growled. “He’s not getting away with this!”

“He’s a strange one, this Davenport guy,” Gran confirmed. “Even though I told him the cats are not for sale, he kept insisting.”

“Yeah, same here,” Odelia said. She was searching on her phone, typing in the man’s name. “Will you look at this,” she said, and held up her phone for all of us to see.

On the screen a Persian cat was prancing gracefully against the backdrop of a verdant green garden, a male voice commenting,“The Persian of the species is among the most gracious and intelligent of her ilk. Not only is she the stuff of legend, she is also the most temperamental, and therefore most interesting.”

“What’s this?” asked Marge.

“It’s Davenport’s YouTube channel,” said Odelia. “He has a channel entirely devoted to Persians.”

“Uh-oh,” said Gran. “He probably took Harriet so he can add her to his collection.”

“But that’s wrong!” Dooley cried. “Cats aren’t for collecting!”

“I know, Dooley,” said Marge, patting my friend on the head. “But it looks like Mr. Davenport didn’t get that memo.”