57aacbcd9598439b495cce0c68035a7c

And he meant it, too.

We darted inside the house, making sure we didn’t get in the way of the cops who were still coming and going. We passed what looked like barracks for the workers to sleep. Rickety tables and chairs. Bunk beds with ratty blankets and dirty old mattresses where they spent their nights.

Another large, ill-lit and ill-ventilated room held rows and rows of sewing machine stations, large ironing boards and piles and piles of material used to turn into the expensive, exclusive clothes sold under the Ziv Riding label. There was a pile of those labels, and I wondered who’d written the notes that had been smuggled out sewed inside those labels.

“This is way depressing,” Dooley said.

“Yeah, even more depressing than Diego,” Brutus chimed in.

We quickly took a peek in the lavatories—as dirty and unhygienic as any I’d ever seen—and the canteen where the workforce had taken their meals—and then I’d had enough. This much human misery I’d never seen before. Even cats were treated better in Hampton Cove.

“I hope they catch whoever is responsible for this and lock them up for a long stretch,” I said as we stepped out and breathed in fresh air again.

“Or better yet, lock them up and throw away the key,” said Brutus.

“Must be this Ziv Riding guy, right?” Dooley ventured a guess.

We returned to where Odelia and Chase stood discussing things and parked ourselves at their feet. I didn’t want to be trampled on by the dozens of cops and other personnel that had by now descended on the site, and I didn’t feel like walking all the way back to the center of town, so sticking close to Odelia was our best option. Sticking close to Odelia was always our best option, period.

“So what’s going to happen now?” Odelia asked.

“Now we’re going to talk to our NYPD colleagues and ask them to arrest Ziv Riding,” Chase replied.

“Do you think he knew about this?”

“I can’t see how he wouldn’t. This is his collection being created here. How could he not know?”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking at the dozens of people still being led to the ambulances. “The people at the top don’t always know what’s going on at the bottom.”

“Riding is a control freak. I’m sure there’s no aspect of his business he’s not fully aware of.”

“Then I hope he goes to jail for this,” she said resolutely.

“Hey, that’s what I just said,” I said.

“And I hope they lock him up and throw away the key,” Chase grunted.

“And that’s what I said!” Brutus cried.

Yep. Cats often turn into their humans. Or the other way around.

“So do you think we’re getting meat tonight?” Dooley asked, already losing interest in the human drama in progress right in front of us.

“I hope so,” said Brutus. “I haven’t had a decent piece of meat in ages.”

“And here we always thought you got raw meat every single day,” I said.

“Yeah, I kinda lied about that,” he admitted.

“But why?” Dooley asked.

He heaved an exasperated groan.“It’s complicated.”

“Explain it to me,” said Dooley. “I’m smart. I’ll understand.”

Brutus gave him a dubious look.

“Explain it me, and I’ll explain it to Dooley in two-syllable words,” I said.

“Hey!” Dooley cried. “I’m right here!”

“When I saw how good you guys had it with the Pooles, I kinda got jealous,” Brutus admitted. “So I decided to…”

“Make it look like you had it better than us?” I suggested.

He nodded, a little embarrassed.“Something like that. I just figured if you thought I ate raw meat every day, you wouldn’t feel sorry for me.”

“Feel sorry for you!” Dooley exclaimed. “Why would we feel sorry for you?!”

“Because you don’t know how good you’ve got it!” he barked. “You just don’t.”

“Yes, we do,” I said softly.

“Yes, we do,” Dooley echoed happily. “And now you do, too, buddy.”

“Thanks,” Brutus said in a choky voice. “Thanks, you guys. And sorry that I was such a pest.”

“That’s all right. We haven’t been very nice to you either,” I said.

“Well, I deserved it.”

“Yes, you did,” Dooley said.

We all laughed, and for the first time I was starting to think that we might actually be friends one day. I wasn’t saying we would, but there was definitely a chance.

Chapter 24

Uncle Alec had called to say he had big news. A breakthrough in the Niklaus Skad murder case. So Odelia and Chase had hurried over to the police station for an update. The state police were handling the sweatshop business, and would liaise with the NYPD to establish Ziv Riding’s involvement—if any.

They arrived at the station house and walked right on through to Chief Alec’s office. The big man was lounged in his chair, checking his computer screen. A first for the chief. He usually left all the computer business to younger, savvier officers or Chase.

He looked up when they entered, sporting the typical slightly confused and frustrated expression of a man not used to working on a PC.

“Hey, Uncle,” Odelia said. “So what’s this breakthrough you were talking about?”