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“Yes, Pope Francis,” said Gran as she took a seat at the counter and gestured at her empty cup that read, ‘Greatest Grandma in the World.’ Odelia poured coffee into the cup while Gran continued her curious conversation. “Yeah, I agree we can do more, Your Holiness. Have you thought about getting in touch with the United Nations or UNICEF? I would advise you to get on the horn with Ban Ki-moon pronto, Francis. Just tell him what I just told you.” Her wrinkled face creased into a wide smile. “No,you’re welcome, Your Holiness. Us Catholics have to stick together. Yes, just doing my part for world peace.”

She disconnected, placed her iPhone on the table and took a sip of coffee. Only then did she notice that the rest of her family were intently staring at her.

“What?” she asked. “Never heard a woman chat with the Pope before?”

“You were actually chatting with the pope just now?” asked Odelia. “The pope?”

“The one in Rome?” asked Dad, gratefully using this interruption as an excuse to put down his spoon.

Gran shook her head, causing her tiny white curls to dance around her wrinkly features.“Do you know any other popes? Of course the one in Rome. I told Francis he needs to get a handle on this Angujistan business before more people die and he agreed wholeheartedly. As he should. When a fellow Catholic calls in with an urgent message it’s only natural that he would be thrilled. He told me he’d heed my most excellent advice.”

“Your grandmother has been advising world leaders,” said Mom at Odelia’s unposed question. “She’s already talked to Bong Si-moon.”

“Ban Ki-moon,” Gran was quick to correct her.

“That one. He runs the United Nations.”

“Great guy,” said Gran. “Very happy to chat.”

“And who was that other one you talked to?” asked Mom.

“Try to keep up, Marge. Bill Gates. Sharp dude. We talked about providing housing for the poor. I gave him a few suggestions and he was more than happy to jot them down.”

Dad gave Odelia a knowing look.“We’re in the presence of greatness, Odelia.”

“Yeah, forget about Charlie Dieber,” Mom added. “It’s your grandmother you should be interviewing.”

“But how?” Odelia asked. “How do you get in touch with these people?”

Gran shrugged.“I have my ways.” She hopped from the stool with surprising agility. “Gotta be going. I’m expecting a call from the President. Give him a piece of my mind.”

And with these words, she stalked off, frowning at her phone and very much looking the part of the highly regarded proficient advisor to the world’s political and business elite.

Odelia was going to ask her parents what the heck was going on, but Mom shushed her and turned up the volume on the TV set. As they watched, the host announced with breathless relish that shots had been fired at Charlie Dieber as he exited the studio. Visibly disappointed, the radio jockey clarified that Charlie was unharmed and that his bodyguard had sustained the brunt of the attack and had been pronounced dead at the scene.

“Sweet Jesus!” Mom cried, pressing her hands to the sides of her head. “Thank God Charlie lives!”

“Poor bodyguard, though,” Odelia said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, imagine having to take a bullet for Charlie Dieber,” Dad quipped.

Mom shut him up with a pointed look.“The man died so Charlie could live. He’s a hero and a saint and should be praised for his brave and selfless act.”

Dang. Mom was an even bigger Bedieber than Odelia would have guessed.

She promptly got up.“This is big,” she announced. “I have to get over there and break this story.”

“And while you’re at it don’t forget to ask for Charlie’s autograph, honey,” Mom said as she moved to the door.

“If I get within ten feet of Charlie I’m not going to nag him about autographs, Mom.”

“You promised!” she called out after her.

“That was before someone tried to drill a hole in him!”

Chapter 3

We were seated in Odelia’s backyard, me, Dooley and Brutus, for an emergency meeting. Hidden behind the gardenias, from time to time ducking our heads up to see if the coast was clear and we weren’t being overheard, we conducted our meeting with the stealth and solemnity the situation demanded. We were at war, and it was all paws on deck.

“He ate all your food?” asked Dooley. The gray Ragamuffin looked shocked.

“Everything. Every last morsel,” I confirmed.

“That’s not very nice.”

“Not nice?! It’s downright criminal!”

“You can have some of my food,” Dooley magnanimously offered. “There’s plenty.”

“Yeah, have some of mine, too,” said Brutus, a powerfully built black cat who’d been my mortal enemy until not all that long ago. In fact the arrival of Diego had created a bond between us that had wiped out our former enmity and turned us into unlikely allies instead.

“Will you look at that?” Dooley asked, a somber note in his voice.

We peeked through the gardenias and Brutus drew in a sharp breath when he saw Diego seated on the terrace with Harriet, pressing their paws together in a cloying picture of loved-up cuteness. Any moment Celine Dion could burst into theTitanic theme song.