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“They tried to breach the perimeter last night, sir,” said the guard. Then he noticed Odelia and Chase, even though they’d been trying to make themselves inconspicuous. “Detective—I hope this time you’ll make an arrest, sir.”

Garibaldi gaped.“Detective? What the hell is going on here?”

“I zink eet ees time to go, zweetheart,” said Odelia, getting up.

The security guard arched an eyebrow and displayed a slight smile of surprise.“Yes, I think maybe that’s the best course of action, Miss Poole.”

“Miss Poole?” asked Garibaldi? “Wait, so your name isn’t Anastasia Kuranova?”

“May I introduce you to Miss Odelia Poole,” said the security guard. “She’s a reporter for the Hampton Cove Gazette, and this is Chase Kingsley, detective with the Hampton Cove Police Department.” That amused little smile was playing about his lips. “We met last night when they came to pick up miss Poole’s grandmother over there, and her friend Miss Canyon.”

Garibaldi’s face had taken on a reddish tinge. “Out,” he now said, surprisingly quietly. “All of you, out!”

And so out they all went.

“Does this mean we’re not going to get a tour of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Yes, this means exactly that, Dooley,” said Max.

“And no million-dollar investment either,” murmured Brutus.

“Bruno—how could you allow these people to walk into my office like this!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Bruno. “It will never happen again. Will it, Detective Kingsley?”

Chase, much chastened, shook his head.

And thus ended their Russian adventure.

Chapter 27

While the humans were all being escorted off the premises, as was probably to be expected, and loudly bickering about whose fault it was that they’d been discovered, we cats took a detour. And since no security guards ever pay much attention to pets, no one even noticed that suddenly we’d disappeared.

“Let’s split up,” said Brutus curtly, after we’d split off from the main group.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” I said just as curtly.

“You go that way and we’ll go this way,” he added, his obnoxious side asserting itself once more.

“Or you go this way and we’ll go that way,” I countered.

“Fine,” he grunted.

“Fine,” I said.

For a moment, we stood toe to toe and nose to nose, then Harriet said with a sigh,“Come on, Brutus. We haven’t got all day.”

And then we were off, Dooley and I heading deeper into the bowels of the candy-making facility that was Garibo Enterprises, and Harriet and Brutus disappearing around a corner.

“Visiting Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory isn’t really the same without Willy Wonka,” said Dooley as we traipsed along a carpeted corridor.

“No, it’s not,” I agreed. “Still, if there’s something to be found that even remotely looks like a clue, it’s our duty to find it, Dooley.”

“Oh, all right,” he said, and was silent for a beat. Then: “Do you think they make cat kibble, too?”

I smiled.“I think there’s every chance that they do, Dooley.” And why not? After all, the same company that produces the Mars bars also produces pet food, right? Though I doubt whether the ingredients are the same.

We turned a corner and suddenly were greeted by a sight to behold: a large plate-glass window offering a view of what I suspected was the main factory floor, and we could see, from the second floor where we were located, the entire production line.

“See, Dooley,” I said. “On one side of this giant machinery the ingredients are fed into the machines, and on the other side the candy comes rolling out, ready to be shipped.”

We both stared at the people who were handling the long conveyor belts, all of Bobby Garibaldi’s workers outfitted with funny-looking hairnets, lab coats and even face masks.

“Why do they all look like doctors and nurses, Max?” asked Dooley finally.

“For hygienic reasons,” I explained. “To prevent hair from ending up in the candy.”

He nodded sagely.“I guess it wouldn’t be nice to find a hair in your lollipop.”

“Or nose droppings in your jelly beans.”

He laughed.“Yuck!”

We moved along, and soon found ourselves back where we started: outside Garibaldi’s office. This was where we needed to be. This was where a possible clue could be found.

And so we silently slipped back into the CEO’s office. He was at his desk, still quietly fuming after encountering not one but two of his favorite foes: a reporter and a cop.

We snuck in unseen, and crept underneath his desk, so we could spy on the man undetected.

“Yeah, Odelia Poole,” he was saying into his phone as he swiveled around on his swivel chair. “Pretending to be a Russian investor. Yeah, and Chase Kingsley. A cop, Mom. A cop! What’s a cop doing snooping around?”

He pressed a button and switched to speakerphone as he got up and started pacing the room.

“It’s fine, darling,” a woman’s voice spoke. “This has got nothing to do with us, so let’s not get rattled.”

“Rattled?” spat the guy. “Who is this dead woman? And why does she look exactly like Aunt Vicky?”