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“She’s not loopy at all, Alec,” said his girlfriend in a tone of censure. “Dolores did the right thing. Sending inquisitive people to the library is a fine practice, and one we can all learn from. In fact if more people would visit our library and read books instead of playing video games or being glued to their phones surfing social media all day and all night, the world would be a better place.”

“Hear, hear,” said Marge, and held up her hand, receiving a reciprocate high five from the Mayor.

“So what did she want, this author?” asked Scarlett, interested.

“She wanted to know if it was true that the Pink Lady had been found, and if I knew where it was being kept. Of course I didn’t tell her, but…” She hesitated, which caused Odelia to look up at her mother.

“What is it, Mom?”

“I’m not sure,” said Marge. “Just that… well, you know how sometimes you can get a strange feeling about a person, right?”

“Oh, sure,” said Gran. “I have a very strange feeling about you right now, Scarlett.”

“About me?! What are you talking about?” asked Scarlett, much surprised.

“The way you eat your spaghetti! You think you know a person, and then this happens!”

“I’ve always eaten my spaghetti this way. I like to taste it, not gobble it down like most people do—swallow it whole without chewing.”

“Let Mom finish her story, you guys,” said Odelia.

“Oh, it’s not much of a story, really,” said Marge with a light shrug. “Just… I asked her about her book, where she got the idea and if maybe the book was autobiographical, since she put so much detail into her story—almost as if she actually lived it, you know. But she became very evasive, and then practically ran off. So I don’t know.” She smiled an apologetic smile. “Just my silly imagination, I guess. That’s what you get from being surrounded by all those books and all those stories—you start seeing things.”

“No, but I’m sure you’re onto something, Mom,” said Odelia. “There is something very strange going on with that Pink Lady. I mean, I searched online, and couldn’t find anything about how it disappeared. And now it suddenly turns up on a beach, thousands of miles from where it was last seen? It’s a story I really want to get to the bottom of, don’t you?”

Gran shrugged.“I just hope Scarlett will get to the bottom of her plate at some point. At the rate she’s going that seems unlikely.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to stare at other people’s plates?” Scarlett countered.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you shouldn’t play with your food?”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to comment on people’s eating habits?”

“So who’s going to Fido’s meeting tonight?” asked Marge, wanting to nip a potential argument in the bud.

“What meeting?” asked Chase with a frown.

“Oh, he’s holding a meeting at the Seabreeze Center to introduce his Flat Earth Society.”

“That’s right,” said Charlene. “I saw something about that. What’s the deal with this society?”

“The deal is that Fido has gone loco,” said Gran. “And now the whole town is going to watch him self-destruct.” She gave Scarlett a conspiratorial wink, which the latter reciprocated with a grin. Those two were clearly up to something again. “Here, let me help you with that,” Gran now said, and grabbed Scarlett’s plate and dumped half of it on her own plate and dug in.

“Thanks,” said Scarlett with a happy sigh. “I hate to leave stuff on my plate, don’t you?”

“Happy to help,” said Gran between two mouthfuls.

“Fido believes the earth is flat?” asked Uncle Alec with a frown.

“Yeah, he does. And not only that,” said Scarlett, “he wants us all to join his Flat Earth Society.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Tex said, and even though he was slurring his words a little, nobody seemed to notice.

Except the four of us, of course. But then we’re cats—and cats are born to pick up little clues like that—clues no one else catches!

13

That evening, instead of our usual program, which includes wandering around town and joining cat choir to meet our fellow cats and hang out, we joined our humans to go to the inaugural meeting of the Long Island Flat Earth Society, which promised to be quite the show, if the number of attendants was any indication. Gran was right. It almost seemed as if the whole town had decided to come and take a look at this car crash in the making.

“They might be bailing on Fido the hairdresser,” said Harriet as we settled in at the back of the theater, “but they’re clearly dying to know what Fido the conspiracy theorist is up to.”

“It’s called disaster tourism, Harriet,” I said. “Humans seem to enjoy watching one of their fellow human beings make a complete fool of themselves. It’s one of the highlights of their existence.”

“You mean like when a person trips over a banana skin and falls flat on his ass?” asked Brutus.

“Sure. It’s the exact same principle.”

Odelia and the rest of the Pooles had taken up position in one of the back rows, so as not to be too conspicuous, and the rest of the theater was filling up nicely indeed.