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“Oh, I know. And I’m sure that if someone did pee in my bowl, I’d smell it and tell you.” And the fact that I hadn’t, at any point in the last couple of weeks, smelled anything funny about my water, led me to think that Dooley might have made a mistake, and hadn’t, in fact, peed in my water bowl, but one of the other bowls instead, possibly Harriet’s, or Brutus’s, and since they often drank next door, where we also had an array of bowls, they never even found out. And since Odelia changed the water every day, Dooley’s little tinkle had simply been chucked down the sink, no harm done.

I’d meant to tell him, but I’d been so preoccupied with this whole burglary business that it had slipped my mind.

“So does your uncle think this man will be back?” I asked now.

“No idea. But if he does come back, he’ll have Chase to contend with this time. And I can assure you that is a prospect any would-be burglar or pet killer would be wise to avoid.”

Chapter 8

Chase walked into the police station thinking hard thoughts about his superior officer throwing him under the bus like that. He was a detective, for crying out loud—not a glorified catsitter.

Dolores, the station dispatcher and receptionist, saw him come in and said,“Is it true what they’re saying, Chase? That you’re guarding your girlfriend’s cats from now on?”

“Oh, don’t you start, too,” he grumbled as he joined Dolores for a chat. The red-haired middle-aged receptionist was a garrulous woman, and liked nothing better than to shoot the breeze with anyone who passed through her vestibule or happened to call in with some urgent or less urgent complaint.

“That’s what you get from being henpecked, Detective,” said Dolores in her trademark rasp. Then she gave him a wink. “Or I should probably say catpecked, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, idly leafing through her logbook. “Apparently the Chief thinks I’m the best man for the job, and who am I to question the big guy’s judgment?”

“Oh, I think you’re perfect for the job,” said Dolores. “And I’m sure with you around those cat killers won’t stand a chance.”

“It is a particularly heinous kind of crime,” he mused. “I mean, who in their right mind would lock up a couple of innocent pets and set them on fire? You have to be a really evil person to do a thing like that.” The whole episode had upset him to a degree. He hated violence against the innocent and the harmless, and pets were about the most innocent and harmless you could find. “When I get my hands on that piece of…”

“And I’m sure you will, Detective,” said Dolores knowingly. “So what was that guy doing in Marge’s attic is what I would like to know.”

“No idea. Apparently looking at some old photo albums. Marge and Tex’s wedding pictures. Though what anyone would want with those is frankly beyond me.”

“A mystery most baffling,” said Dolores. “So have you two set a date yet?”

“Oh, sure. September the fifth is the big day. Haven’t you gotten your invitation yet?”

“No, sir, I have not.” She shrugged. “I just figured you’d want to celebrate with friends and family only, and throw a separate party for colleagues at a later date or something.”

“No, I want you there, Dolores. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Gee, thanks,” said Dolores, clearly tickled pink at these words.

“I’ll ask Odelia. She’s been handling that kind of stuff, together with her mom and grandma.”

Dolores’s smile disappeared. “Well, that explains it, then.”

“What?”

“If Vesta is involved in the wedding preparations she’ll probably have vetoed me. Me and her don’t exactly get along.”

“And why doesn’t that surprise me?” said Chase with a smile. Vesta was an acquired taste, and more often than not rubbed people the wrong way.

“Is she still going ahead with this neighborhood watch thing of hers?”

“Yeah, that’s still going strong.”

“Bad idea, if you ask me. The Chief should never have allowed his mom to play amateur cop like that. She’ll create more trouble than she’s worth, her and Scarlett Canyon.”

“I think it’s all pretty harmless,” he said, tapping the counter and turning to go. “And as long as she’s out there patrolling the streets, she can’t cause trouble someplace else.”

“Hm,” said Dolores doubtfully. “Leave it to Vesta to cause trouble all over the place. Mark my words, Chase. The Chief will rue the day he set that woman loose on these fine streets of ours.”

And as Chase walked on, he wondered if Dolores was right. But then he figured the boss knew what he was doing. He had, after all, more experience dealing with his mother than anyone else in the precinct.

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Charlene smiled at her guests. The two men could have been twins if she hadn’t known better: both were wearing identical charcoal suits, their hair perfectly coiffed by what looked like the same hairdresser, and they were even wearing the same glasses. The only difference between Mark Dawson and James Blatch, as far as she could determine, was that one was in charge of the proceedings, and the other was merely along for the ride.