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Harriet wasn’t too sure she’d bet on the right horse when being picked by Gran to form a sleuthing alliance. Then again, it wasn’t as if she’d had a choice in the matter. Gran had been the one to pick which cats she wanted, and not the other way around.

The reason Harriet thought Odelia would have been the better choice was that Grandma Muffin had a tendency to let her temper get the better of her, and when it came to sleuthing, it was always the cool intellect that won out over raw emotions.

She herself was an excellent sleuth, of course, exactly for that reason: she never let her emotions get the better of her, and always allowed the cold facts to prevail.

They were in Gran’s little red Peugeot, with the old lady behind the wheel, and Brutus and Harriet ensconced on the backseat.

“Wait here,” Gran suddenly ordered as she stomped on the brakes and the car skidded to a halt in front of a modest apartment building, causing Harriet and Brutus to tumble forward and straight into the footwell.

As Gran got out and slammed the door, Harriet and Brutus shared a look of concern.“I thought we were supposed to join the investigation, and now she wants us to stay in the car,” said Brutus, neatly summing up the state of affairs.

“Oh, I think I know what’s going on,” said Harriet, as recognition dawned. “Isn’t this where Scarlett Canyon lives?”

They stared out at the apartment building, which seemed to have been built two decades before, and was nice enough, as apartment buildings go, but not as nice as the house they themselves occupied.

Brutus frowned.“Am I glad that we don’t have to live in a place like this,” he said. “I was an apartment cat for far too long. You wouldn’t believe how much nicer it is to have a backyard to strut your stuff in, to breathe fresh air when you want, or let grass blades tickle your belly.” He sighed. “If there is a God, he sure must like me, to have placed me with the Pooles.” He directed a loving smile at Harriet. “And with you, twinkle toes.”

Harriet simpered a little. She never got tired of listening to her mate pour such sweet nothings into her ear.“Aww, Brutus,” she murmured, well pleased. “Yeah, I wouldn’t like to live in an apartment either.” Though truth be told she wouldn’t know the difference, as she’d lived with the Poole family from the moment she was a little kitten.

The door swung open and Gran and Scarlett walked out, talking animatedly.

“See?” said Harriet with a note of triumph in her voice. “I knew I was right.”

“You’re a great detective, princess,” said Brutus, nodding. “I’ll bet you’ll crack this burglary in no time.”

“Of course I will,” said Harriet. “Have no fear, honey lips. I’ll be onto those nasty burglars before you can say ‘Gotcha!’”

Scarlet dropped into the passenger seat, and Gran took up her position behind the wheel again, then stomped on the gas and the car shot forward, Brutus and Harriet tumbling back. Harriet thought ruefully that not only was Odelia probably the better sleuth, she was also the better driver.

It only took them another ten minutes or so to arrive at a very nice villa in a quiet neighborhood not all that far from where they themselves lived. And as the car skidded to a halt and hit the curb with a thud, they all filed out, Harriet feeling a little queasy after the wild ride they’d had.

“You really should learn how to drive, Vesta,” said Scarlett reproachfully as she checked if all of her body parts were still attached. She was dressed in an extremely tight leopard-print dress that showed off a lot of leg, a lot of cleavage, and made Scarlett look like a lady of the night morethan a respectable sleuth. She’d put on bright red lipstick, expanding beyond the boundaries of her mouth, which gave her a clownish look.

“You should talk. You don’t even have a driver’s license,” said Vesta.

“Because I don’t believe in cars,” said Scarlett. “Cars kill hedgehogs, and I happen to like hedgehogs.”

“You like any animal whose sole claim to fame is an erect quill,” Vesta grunted.

“Why didn’t we simply walk here? We should all avoid driving as much as humanly possible and save the planet.”

“I don’t like to walk,” said Vesta. “Walking makes my feet hurt. Besides, with the kind of shoes you like to wear you should be grateful one of us can drive a car.”

They all stared at the nine-inch heels Scarlett had opted to wear, and Scarlett frowned. At least Harriet thought she was frowning. It was hard to see with all the Botox injections Vesta’s friend liked to apply to her suspiciously wrinkle-free brow.

“Let’s just go and talk to this guy Mort Hodge,” said Scarlet with a little toss of her head. “Before I accidentally stab you with something hard and erect.”

They walked up the short garden path to the front door and Vesta pressed the bell, applying so much pressure Harriet wondered if she was trying to push it through the panel.

“Please be on your best behavior, Vesta,” said Scarlett as the sound of the bell echoed through the house.

“What is that supposed to mean?”