“Yeah, especially since Gran threatened to ground us for a month if we didn’t apologize,” grunted Brutus.
“Oh, God,” I said, and started to walk away. With friends like Harriet and Brutus, I meant to say, who needs enemies, right?
“No, Max, but I really do mean it,” said Harriet quickly. “I never should have laughed at your… accident.”
“And I shouldn’t have made that crack about your sixteen-pack,” said Brutus, though judging from the gleam in his eyes he still thought it was a pretty good joke.
“Look, if you guys want to make fun of me, that’s fine,” I said. “But don’t pretend that we’re friends, because friends don’t say nasty things about each other, and they certainly don’t make fun of a friend’s misfortune.”
And with these words, I was off. Having terminated our friendship once and for all, I felt a lot better, actually. I now realized I only had one true friend and that was Dooley.
“I told you that actions have consequences,” I heard Gran admonish my former friends.
Inside, Odelia and Chase were having breakfast, and Dooley was lounging on the windowsill, enjoying a bit of sunshine before the day turned into another scorcher.
“Hey, Max,” said Odelia, and inspected my belly. “Looks like your fur is coming in already.” She patted me on the head. “Pretty soon now you’ll be back to your old self.”
I nodded a little morosely. It’s never a lot of fun to break up with one’s friends, and I was smarting a little I have to admit.
Odelia must have noticed I was in a bit of a funk, for she said, “Chase and I are going to try to talk to Bobby Garibaldi today. Wanna come?”
I perked up a little at that. “Oh, sure,” I said. Then I recollected the security guard’s words from last night. “But I thought he didn’t talk to reporters or cops?”
“That’s why Chase and I will pretend to be investors in his company instead,” she said with a wink.
“We’re off to visit Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, Max,” said Chase, who clearly wasn’t harboring any resentment for the inflatable pool episode. “Are you up for it?”
“You bet I am,” I said, then remembered my less than presentable form, and wavered.
But Odelia, proving once again that she’s the perfect cat lady, suddenly spirited what looked like a miniature jacket into her hands. “Look what I got for you, Max,” she said, and proceeded to put the thing on me. It really was a little jacket: my front paws went into the sleeves, and my hind legs into the trouser legs and the moment Odelia had zipped up the front I was looking as snazzy and cool as I’d ever looked.
Dooley, who’d come tripping up to see what all the fuss was about, eyed me with a mixture of consternation and excitement.
“Max, you look awesome!” he cried. “And that mauve and topaz really becomes you.”
Yeah, I wasn’t exactly sure about the colors, or the check motif, but then beggars can’t be choosers and at least I looked less ridiculous than before, with half my body hair missing in action.
“Thanks, Odelia,” I said warmly. “It’s a lovely gift.”
“Anything for my sweet baby,” she said, and made some minor adjustments then took a couple of snaps for her Facebook page.
“I think he looks amazing,” said Chase as he put down his phone and joined the chorus of admirers.
And when Harriet and Brutus came sneaking in a little trepidatiously moments later, and saw my new outfit, even they looked appropriately impressed.
“You remind of something,” said Brutus, then snapped his claws. “I got it. You look like Sherlock Holmes.”
And when I looked down I saw what he meant: the check motif indeed did look like the kind of coat the great detective usually favored—at least in the TV shows and the movies.
“Now you really are a professional sleuth,” said Odelia.
“And what about me?” asked Dooley. “Don’t I get to wear a coat, too?”
“Of course,” said Odelia, and spirited three more little vests into her hands: one for each of her cats. And when she was through, Dooley looked a lot like Dr. Watson, Harriet was dressed up with a turquoise kaftan that became her well, and Brutus’s formidable form had been squeezed into a burgundy sleeveless vest that made him look even more butch than he already was.
Chase scratched his scalp as he surveyed the scene. “People will either think we’re nuts or eccentric or both.”
“Which is exactly the kind of image the future investors in Garibo Enterprises want to project,” Odelia said.
And only now did I notice that Odelia was wearing a very sexy outfit indeed, that showed more bust than was her habit, and that Chase was dressed in a very snazzy costume and was wearing a faux chin curtain type beard, much favored by Russian oligarchs.
Odelia then made a little curtsy and said, “Countess Anastasia Kuranova and Sergei Abromavich at your service.”
Oh, boy. This was going to be interesting.
Chapter 26
Odelia pushed up her push-up bra and checked her assets. She’d stuffed the bra with a pair of panties to fill it out, as her natural bust was a modest one.
“You look great, babe,” said Chase, who looked more like a Russian mobster now than the honest cop that he was.
“You think so?” she asked a little uncertainly.
“Absolutely,” he assured her.
They were waiting in the lobby of the Garibo building, where their arrival had been announced ten minutes before. Four cats sat at their feet, all of them dressed to the nines, and clearly a little ill at ease. There had been some kind of fight between the cats, and now Max and Dooley weren’t talking to Harriet and Brutus. The exact details of the rift escaped her but it had something to do with Max’s hairless new look.
“So I’ll do the talking, all right?” said Chase. He sat a little straighter on the plastic bench that was molded in the shape of one of Garibo’s typical colorful candies.
“Yes, Sergei,” said Odelia, adopting the Russian accent she’d been practicing. “You do ze talking and I do ze looking sexy.”
“Exactly,” said Chase with a slight grin. He fingered his stick-on beard. “I hope this thing stays glued on. If it starts to fall off please tell me.”
“Oh, I vill tell you, Sergei, darlink,” said Odelia, laying the accent on thick now. “When can ve go back to ze yacht?” she asked in a slightly whiny voice. “I vant to go yachting and spend time in Saint-Tropez vid my many super-rich girlfriends and zeir hunky huzbands.”
“Ve vill go yachting soon, my pet,” Chase assured her. “I just bought a bery beeg yacht—ze beegest yacht in ze vorld. Beeger zan Yuri’s yacht—zat stoopid loser.”
“Good for you, zveetheart.”
They both grinned now, and Odelia noticed how four cats were all staring up at them, mouths agape. They clearly were wondering what had gotten into them.
Just then, the receptionist announced, “Mr. Garibaldi will see you now, Countess and Mr. Abromavich.”
“Go time, babe,” Chase grunted, and led the procession of humans and cats in the direction indicated by the receptionist.
A smallish man with his black hair in a ponytail awaited them with a wide smile. He had the kind of sharp incisors that reminded Odelia of a vampire, and his face was as tan as cowhide.
“Welcome, welcome!” he caroled as they stepped into his office. “Can I offer you some refreshments?”
“Na, ve are fine,” said Chase with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Unless you ave ze vodka?”
“Um…” said Bobby Garibaldi hesitantly.
“Just yoking,” said Chase, and produced a deep booming laugh that reverberated around the room, then clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder, making him buckle at the knees. “Russian humor. Very funny.”
“Very funny,” said Mr. Garibaldi, smiling a little uncertainly. “Ha ha. Please take a seat.” It was only then that he spotted the four cats, all dressed up as if ready to join the Moscow State Circus. “I see you brought your…”