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“I wonder which of us is cat sleuth number one and which is number two,” Dooley said as Chase got out of bed and in the process dislodged Max from the blanket he’d claimed for his own.

“I’m sure it’s not important,” said Max as he walked across Odelia again, causing the latter to huff out a surprised ‘Oof!’ as he dug his paws into her stomach.

Cats. You had to love them. Especially early in the morning.

She followed Chase’s cue and got up, too, slipping her feet into her pink Hello Kitty slippers and dragging her sleepy frame down the stairs and into the kitchen where she proceeded to put on a fresh pot of coffee.

She wondered if Max and Dooley’s story was true. If it was, could it be that Uncle Alec had arrested the wrong people in Johnny and Jerry, just as they steadfastly claimed? Or maybe there was more than one gang of burglars active in their small town.

She thought it odd that Kurt would be the target of a burglary, though. He wasn’t exactly the kind of person brimming with unknown riches and chests full of gold and diamonds. Then again, Ida Baumgartner wasn’t known as a rich woman either, and still the thieves had found out about her Picasso.

Chase came ambling down the stairs, his muscular frame clad in stretchy lycra.

“Going for a run?” asked Odelia.

“Yeah, just a quick one. Wanna come?”

She hesitated. She knew she should join him on his morning run, but the temptation of a fresh cup of coffee and breakfast was too strong, so she shook her head.“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Sure thing,” he said. “I wouldn’t go for a run either, but I kinda need it, knowing the kind of day I’m heading into.”

“More insurance fraud hunting?”

“If your uncle wanted to punish me he couldn’t have done a better job than to hand me this particular assignment. I know white-collar crime is on the rise and all, but going through piles and piles of documents looking for traces of fraud is not my idea of fun.”

She smiled.“Who ever said being a detective was all fun and games?”

“No one, but I’d kinda hoped it was,” he said with a grin. He pointed to the coffee. “Save some for me, will you?”

And then he was out the door, braving the elements to keep himself in shape.

And as Odelia took her first cup of coffee of the day, she glanced out the window and saw Kurt Mayfield step into his backyard and call out for his dog. Usually Fifi immediately responded and came jumping and skipping up to her owner. This morning, though, there was no happy yapping and no equally happy Kurt playing around with his little Yorkie.

Frowning, Odelia opened the sliding glass door, then stepped out into her own backyard to take a closer look. And as she glanced across the fence and into her neighbor’s backyard, she was shocked to find Kurt leaning over the inert body of Fifi. The big guy, usually so aloof and grumpy, was sobbing like a small child. And when he looked up and saw Odelia, he cried, “She’s dead! My sweet baby is dead!”

Chapter 28

Attracted by sounds of anguish, Dooley and I stepped out of the house and found the door that led from our backyard into Kurt Mayfield’s backyard wide open.

It was a sight to behold, to be honest, for as far as I could tell that squeaky iron door had never been opened. It must have taken a strong hand to open it even now, as it was pretty rusty and covered with weeds on Kurt’s side—purposely so, I would have thought, to prevent nosy neighbors from entering his yard unannounced and uninvited.

We moved into Kurt’s domain with some trepidation, as Kurt is not exactly a friend of cats in general, or Dooley and myself in particular. He mostly disapproves of the impromptu singing sessions we sometimes engage in in the backyard in the middle of the night, when, having only just returned from cat choir, the muse strikes and we decide to sing a couple of bars.

Kurt is a retired music teacher, you see, and his musical sense is quite refined.

What we saw, though, when we passed across the threshold and into Kurt’s backyard, drove all thought of Kurt as some kind of ogre from our minds, as we watched the pensioner hunched over Fifi, thick tears sliding down his cheeks, as the little doggie lay motionless at his feet.

“Fifi!” I cried, and hurried to the scene.

“I’ve called Vena,” said Odelia. She’d placed a hand on her neighbor’s shaking back. “I’m sure she’ll know what to do.”

Normally the thought of Vena Aleman paying a house call fills me with dread. She’s our veterinarian, and in that capacity not exactly our favorite person in the world, armed as she usually comes with needles and poking fingers, but this time I hoped she would fly like the wind to save Fifi’s life.

“Is she… dead?” asked Dooley.

“She’s not dead,” said Odelia. “I think she was drugged, but that’s for Vena to decide.”

Just then, Chase returned from his morning run and came to see what all the fuss was about.

“I think the same people that your anonymous witness saw prowling around Kurt’s house last night must have drugged Fifi,” Odelia told her boyfriend.