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The five of us were seated in the backyard of the man Odelia had come to interview. There wasn’t a lot we could do, as the back door was closed shut, and I could see no sign of any pets to talk to, so we just hunkered down for the time being, and glanced around at the world in general and the backyard in particular. It wasn’t a bad backyard, as backyards go: it was about the size of a postage stamp, but what there was of it was well-maintained, with a little bit of lawn and some nice decorations in the form of a windmill and even a slide, which told me the backyard was visited by kids from time to time. There was also the obligatory grill, which would have pleased Odelia’s dad to no end.

“Look, not all pets just gallivant around and are all action, action, action,” said Harriet now. “Some of us use our brains before we act. Maybe you should try the same, Rambo.”

I was expecting Rambo to pounce on Harriet and wait for a cop to put the cuffs on her the way he used to do when he was still an active member of the force, but much to my surprise he actually smiled, then burst into a rumbling laugh. “I like you,” he said finally. “You’ve got spunk, little missy.”

“Thanks, I guess,” said Harriet doubtfully.

“So you’re from the ‘Think before you act’ school of policing, are you? Good for you. I was always more into the ‘Act first, think later’ class. But then I guess I’m just built that way, whereas cats are perhaps the smarter creatures when compared to us dogs.”

“Thank you, Rambo,” said Harriet emphatically. She turned to us. “What have I been telling you guys all along? That cats are the brains and dogs are the brawn, right?”

I’d never even once heard Harriet say that, but before I could point this out to her, she was already moving on.

“I think we would make a great team, Rambo,” she said. “You’re the muscle and I’m the finesse. So maybe you should join us.”

“Us? What’s this us you’re talking about?”

“We’re the proud members of Odelia’s posse,” said Harriet. “She’s an amateur sleuth, you see, and we’re her secret weapon. Like… she’s Charlie and we’re her angels?”

“So you solve crime, huh? Catch killers and such?”

“That’s right,” said Harriet, tilting her head proudly. “You’re looking at Hampton Cove’s premier feline crime fighters.”

“So if you’re so good at what you do, then why do you need a guard dog is what I’m wondering.”

“Um…”

I smiled, for Rambo had performed the ultimate feat: he’d managed to shut Harriet up. I’d never managed this myself, so it was with a certain measure of admiration that I regarded the big old dog now.

“Look, this killer took us by surprise, all right?” said Harriet, never one to be stumped for long. “The last thing you suspect is for a cat killer to show up in your own home, and grab you before you know what’s happening.”

“You have to remain vigilant, Harriet,” said Rambo, speaking like one who knows. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from all my years on the force it’s that you can never let your guard down, no matter what.”

“Do you ever let your guard down?” I asked.

“Me? Never! I mean, you probably think I’m some lumbering, drooling, smelly has-been, right?”

“Oh, no,” I said, though that was exactly what I’d been thinking.

“Wrong! I’m always alert. Always looking, always listening,” he said, as his eyes swiveled this way and that. “That’s why I’m so good at what I do. You never see me coming.”

I could definitely smell him coming, though.

“The bad guys underestimate me, and that’s my secret weapon. They laugh at me—oh, look at that stupid mutt. Ha ha ha. And BOOM! I pounce and that’s the end of them.”

“Good for you,” I said without much conviction. Talk is cheap, after all, and this big dog could most certainly talk.

He suddenly cut his eyes to me, and said,“I see a lot of me in you, Max.”

“Oh?” I said, surprised.

“Yeah, you’re also fat, out of shape, ugly… a mouth-breather. But underneath all that flab and blubber beats the heart of a true warrior.”

I didn’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed. It’s always tough when they wrap the compliments in a thick layer of insults. “Um, thanks, I guess,” I said.

“Or you, Dooley. You look like a weakling. A dumbass. But you’re a lot smarter than you look, am I right?”

“I… think so?” said Dooley uncertainly.

“Or look at Brutus. Underneath all that bluster and posturing lurks a sly dog. And then there’s Harriet, of course. She may look like a drama queen, a prissy princess, a gigglepuss, but she’s smart as a whip, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh?” said Harriet with a frown.

“So yeah, I guess we make a great team, just like you said,” he said with a yawn, then placed his head on his front paws and closed his eyes. And soon he was snoring away again, making the air tremble with the volume of his snores.

“Do you think he’s asleep, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I think there’s a good chance of that, Dooley,” I said.

“But he said he’s always vigilant, always alert—sees all, hears all, knows all…”

I waved a hand in front of the dog’s closed eyes, then poked him in the squishy nose.