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“For your information, I’m not orange, I’m blorange,” I said. “And I’m not chubby, I’m big-boned. And my name is Max, not Frank.”

“Huh,” said the bird, sinking down on its tush from sheer bewilderment. “So you’re not the fat cat who likes to climb trees and attack birds near Harrington Street 58?”

“No, I’m the big-boned cat who likes to lie around the backyard of Harrington Street 44,” I said. “Though I think I know this Frank you’re referring to. He’s a bit of a rogue element, isn’t he? Very tough on birds.”

“You can say that again. He ate my mother, ate my brother, ate my father, and he was about to eat me when I decided to fight back!”

“Well, you fought back against the wrong cat,” I pointed out.

The bird cocked his head.“Oops,” he muttered. “Look, cat. I, um, I’m sorry for the nuisance. Um…” He gave me a sheepish look. “Anything I can do it make it up to you?”

I thought for a moment, then smiled.“Actually, there is something. Have you been hanging around here long?”

“All night,” he said. “Waiting for you to show your chubby—your big-boned face.”

“Did you happen to see a person deliver a letter to number 44 about two hours ago?”

“Oh, sure,” said the bird. “I was wondering already why you’d suddenly moved from number 58 to number 44, but then figured you were trying to escape my vengeance.”

“Can you describe that person to me?”

And when Moses gave me the description, a few pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

Chapter 36

“This is boring,” said Scarlett with a yawn.

“Stakeouts are always boring,” said Vesta as she mimicked the yawn and added some yawnage of her own.

Both women were sitting in Vesta’s daughter’s little red Peugeot and watching the house of Quintin Gardner’s sister. Vesta had a hunch that the woman was somehow involved in all of this, and wanted to find out more about her.

So far she’d found out zilch, as there had been no movement in or outside the house all night.

“You see why we need a new car?” said Vesta. “A decent stakeout needs a nice set of wheels. Like a van, maybe. Then at least you can conduct your stakeout in comfort.”

“A stakeout in style,” chimed in Scarlett.

“Sure. You can have dinner in your van while your partner keeps watch, or even a nap in the back of the van. And no one will ever be the wiser, as they’ll simply think it’s a van belonging to the gas company, or whatever.”

“What we should do is bug that house,” said Scarlett, gesturing with her chin to Marcia Gardner’s brownstone. “We should break in, hang those little cameras everywhere, and then we can watch the screens in our van, like they do in the movies.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be something?” said Vesta with a grin. “Now that would be the kind of watch I always wanted to be a part of.”

“Me, too. A watch to watch out for.”

“Or we could always send in the cats,” said Vesta. “They could be our eyes and ears.”

“Why didn’t your cats join us tonight?”

“Ah, politics,” said Vesta with a wave of the hand. “They’re mostly loyal to Odelia, and since Chase declared war on the watch, they were obviously forced to take sides, and since I didn’t want to make the situation any harder for them, I decided not to bother.”

“Your cats are phenomenal,” said Scarlett as she flipped down the visor and checked her look in the mirror. “They’re the best little detectives I’ve ever seen. A force to be reckoned with.”

“Down!” suddenly said Vesta. “Here she comes!”

The door to the brownstone had opened and Marcia Gardner had appeared.

She was wearing a trench coat and sunglasses, even though it was not the shank of the afternoon—more like the middle of the night.

“Where is she going, I wonder,” Scarlett whispered, as if afraid Marcia would hear her, even though they were parked across the street, and well out of earshot.

“No idea, but I’m on her like a cockroach on a tasty meatball,” said Vesta, turning the ignition and getting ready to rock and roll.

Marcia had gotten into her car and now took off, immediately followed by Vesta, who had to perform a U-turn and did so by clipping a couple of garbage bins, sending them tumbling down the road.

“Careful!” said Scarlett.

“I know what I’m doing,” hissed Vesta, almost hitting a tree.

“Keep your distance—she’ll make us!”

“Iam keeping my distance!”

She was practically on the woman’s tail fender, almost rear-ending her.

“Where did you learn how to drive?”

“For your information I was self-taught.”

“And it shows. Watch it—you’re going to hit her!”

“Do you want to drive, wise-ass?”

“I think I’d probably do a better job than you, Steve McQueen.”

“She’s getting away!” said Vesta, as Marcia was increasing her lead by two whole inches.

“Oh, will you relax already? You must be the worst car chaser in the history of car chasing.”

Marcia took a corner and so did Vesta, clipping a couple more garbage cans and sending them skipping across the intersection.

Scarlett closed her eyes.“Tell me when it’s over, will you? I can’t watch this.”