d5e426eccb138e04dab909926b2752c6

A hint of a smile played about the woman’s lips, and Odelia remembered Max’s report about Bobby’s conversation with his mother. She’d called Gran a fruitcake and Scarlett an old Jezebel. And she hadn’t been very complimentary about Odelia either.

“Yes?” asked the woman.

“Rumor has it your brother is thinking about bringing in a new management team to replace your son and the current board of directors. What can you tell us about that?”

A steely look appeared in the woman’s eyes. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid those are private family matters. Even if I wanted to discuss them with you, I’d need to talk to my lawyers first.” And promptly she got up and said, “If there’s nothing further, I think I’ve answered enough of your questions.”

The interview was at an end, and they’d learned precious little. Except that this succession battle was real, and that according to Marcia, Vicky Gardner’s disappearance hadn’t involved foul play after all.

Moments later they were back out on the street, a little dazed after being chucked out so proficiently and without much fuss.

“One thing’s for sure,” said Chase as he glanced up at the brownstone. “Marcia Gardner didn’t like her sister-in-law one bit.”

“Nope. I think she made that very clear.”

She glanced around for her cats, and saw that they were patiently waiting for her, seated in front of Chase’s squad car—four in a row.

She gave them a little wave, and as they emerged from underneath the vehicle, suddenly a loud screech sounded, and a big bird came diving down, and moments later a salvo of white bird poo rained down, and spattered all four cats in equal measure!

The bird screamed something Odelia couldn’t understand, as she didn’t speak its language. But she had the distinct impression it sounded a lot like, ‘Gotcha, suckers!’

Chapter 32

It was the inflatable pool horror all over again, only this time Odelia had decided to wash that bird poop out of our hides, and forgo the swimming lessons for a change.

Chase had obviously eked out time from his busy schedule to glue the little pool back together again—judging from the big pieces of plastic glued to the sides it had taken him a lot of effort this time—and now there we sat, four cats, all soaking our behinds in a foot of water and not particularly happy about it.

“Thanks, Odelia,” I nevertheless murmured when she’d managed to wash out the poo.

I may not like water all that much, but I like poo even less, and I didn’t feel exactly rapturous about the prospect of having to lick my fur clean again. Nobody likes to eat bird poo, me least of all.

“Thanks, Odelia,” Dooley said dutifully, and so did Harriet and Brutus when Odelia repeated the procedure on them.

The moment she’d lifted us out of the pool, she placed us on the lawn in the sun so we could air-dry—after she’d towel-dried us to remove most of the water.

And there we sat, all of us brooding on what cruel fate had in store for us next.

“I don’t get it,” said Harriet. “Why would a bird—one very nasty bird—have it in for us so much? I’ve never even seen this bird before.” She darted a quick look at the sky, making sure the bird in question wasn’t within earshot, and ready to perform another dive-bombing expedition, maybe this time assisted by a squadron of his buddies.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’ve never seen this Moses character before in my life either. And yet he seems to know us, that’s for sure.”

“Maybe he simply hates cats in general,” Brutus suggested. “And has picked us because we’re easy targets. Most cats don’t go out in this heat. They’re smart and stick close to the AC. Only we are so dumb to walk around all the time.”

“I think he probably means well,” said Dooley, offering a different opinion.

We all turned to him.“Means well?” asked Harriet. “Have you seen what he did?”

“I think he’s simply seeing us as fellow pigeons, that’s all,” said Dooley. “I once saw a documentary on the Discovery Channel,” he began, eliciting exasperated groans from both Brutus and Harriet, “and it showed that ducklings, when they’re born, will consider the first animal theysee as their mother and follow it wherever it goes. So if ducklings see a human, they will follow that human. And when they see a chicken, they’ll think that chicken is their mother. It’s really cute, too.” He chuckled lightly. “You should have seen those ducklings, following that chicken all across the barnyard, tweeting all the while.”

No one else was laughing, though, and instead Harriet said,“You know, Dooley, if you weren’t my friend I’d say you’re an idiot. But since you are my friend, I’ll simply say that you’re not making any sense. What do ducklings following a chicken have to do with this shitting pigeon?”

“I was coming to that,” said Dooley helpfully. “So what if this pigeon, when it was born, attached itself to a feline mother figure? Or even a feline father figure? And now whenever it sees a cat it thinks that it’s part of his clan and decides to give it a baptism?”

“A baptism of poo!” cried Brutus. “That’s rich!”