40b1ce81e27faee7f7dcd22da99b93e1

“That’s the spirit, Mom,” said Odelia, giving her mother an encouraging smile. “And for what it’s worth, I think your tree looks very much like a tree. Absolutely.”

“Thanks, honey. It’s just a preliminary study, though. Once I get going, I’m sure it’s going to look even more like a tree.”

“Why did Marge say her name isn’t Marge Poole, Max?” asked Dooley. “Has she changed her name?”

“I think you’ll find that she said her nameis Marge Poole,” I said, “and because it is, she’s going to create a very nice painting for her exhibit.”

“Oh,” said my friend, then turned to Marge, arguably the best source of information on all things Marge Poole. “Marge, is your name still Marge or have you changed it?”

But Marge wasn’t listening. Not when she was on the verge of creating art with a capital A. So she simply ignored us and continued painting a preliminary tree.

We watched on for several more minutes, while Marge chatted with her daughter. I could tell that the artist’s heart wasn’t really in it, though. Women are great at multitasking, of course, but there are limits. And clearly this limit was reached when she finally said, “Didn’t you say you had to go to the office, hon?”

It was a subtle reminder, as reminders go, but it was clear enough in its simplicity. Odelia sort of seemed to collect herself, and then she was off. But not before turning to us and saying,“Max, Dooley, are you coming?”

Looked like nap-time was over.

CHAPTER 4

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

As usual I’d taken too gloomy a view of my prospects. The moment we arrived, I rediscovered our cozy little nook in Odelia’s office, and soon I was soundly asleep once more. In fact this was probably an even better solution, since there were no would-be artists who could interrupt my peaceful slumber there.

And as Odelia went back to work, first stretching, then focusing on her article, I heaved a sigh of utter contentment, and the moment her fingers hit the keyboard and that sweet melody of typing was floating through the air, I was already in the land of dreams—and I didn’t even need to make a preliminary study to create my own dreamscape.

But of course these rare moments of absolute bliss never last. A knock sounded at the door, and a couple strode in, desiring speech with our human.

I yawned and placed my head on my front paws to take in these new arrivals. They were both young, dressed in simple jeans and matching sweaters. The woman was pretty in a sort of understated way, but the man had a shaggy mane, and some patchy growth on his chin, and reminded me of… an artist!

“Who are these people, Max?” asked Dooley, who’d been enjoying his own version of the perfect nap right next to me.

“I have no idea, Dooley,” I said. “But I have a feeling we’re going to find out.”

“Oh, hi,” said Odelia, looking up from her work. When she’s in the middle of an article you can practically fire off a canon next to her, and she won’t even notice.

“Hi,” said the young woman, taking the lead. “I hope we’re not interrupting? Mr. Goory told us to walk right through.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” said Odelia, and closed her laptop. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, um…” said the girl, with a touch of hesitation. It’s never a lot of fun to lay one’s private matters at the feet of a total stranger, but then Odelia, being theHampton Cove Gazette’s main reporter, and also its editorialist, is of course a familiar face to most people, even if they’re not always a familiar face to her.

“There isn’t much I haven’t heard before, trust me,” said Odelia encouragingly.

The young man cleared his throat.“I’m Jay,” he said. “Jay Green. And this is Laia, my fianc?e. And we’re the target of some kind of harassment campaign.”

“Harassment?” asked Odelia, her interest piqued. “You mean like a stalker?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Someone is sending us stuff we didn’t order,” the man’s fianc?e explained. “Expensive stuff. And then of course these companies expect us to pay for it.”

“These people, whoever they are,” said Jay, “apparently create an account in my name, and just keep ordering all kinds of things. And then when I refuse to pay, the companies come after me, wanting their money. I keep telling them it wasn’t me that ordered it, but more often than not they don’t believe me.”

“It’s a nightmare,” Laia said. “We’ve received dozens and dozens of deliveries, and the bills are piling up. Bills for things we don’t want and don’t need.”

“Can’t you go to the police?” asked Odelia. “File a complaint?”

“Oh, I did,” said Jay, “and they took down my statement.”

“But that’s all they’ve done so far,” said Laia. “They’re in no hurry to go after these people, even though it just keeps getting worse day by day.”

“This morning two laptops arrived,” said Jay. “As well as three mattresses and a cross trainer. I told them to take it all back, but they refused. Said they were just the delivery people, and I had to take it up with the store.”