“Killing your own son, huh? That wasn’t very nice of you,” grunted Francis.
“Can she understand what we’re saying?” asked Harriet.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “But I guess she feels like confessing.”
“She almost died,” said Francis. “It’s a pivotal moment for her.”
“I didn’t kill him myself, of course,” Leonora said now. “I told my nurse to do it for me. I could never have held the knife that took my son’s life. Besides, I was persona non grata at the chateau. But Helga wasn’t. She simply swapped shifts with one of Leo’s nurses and gave Gabe a sedative. She then planted the knife in his hands and made sure he was at the scene just as the maid walked in. The whole thing was arranged like clockwork. Helga is German, you see,” she said, as if this explained everything. “She’s been with me for so long she’s like a daughter to me. She’d do everything for me. So when I told her I needed to get rid of my boy, she immediately understood and arranged the whole thing with impeccable precision and efficiency.”
“So she was the one who plunged the knife into your son’s chest?” I asked.
“It was a little hard to juggle all the different elements, of course,” Mrs. Flake went on. “But I knew for a fact that my son is a stickler for punctuality, and liked his maid to wake him up every morning at seven o’clock on the dot. So all Helga had to do was make sure that Gabe was standing there, knife in hand, at seven o’clock sharp, and the deal was done. It wasn’t hard. The hard part, she later told me, was to drive that knife into his heart. She hit bone, you see, and since she only had a very short window of time, she got a little nervous at some point. Especially since my son woke up at that moment and started to scream. She managed in the end, though. It all worked out fine.”
“Define fine,” mumbled Brutus.
“We should probably call the police,” said Dooley.
“Take out your phone, Dooley,” said Harriet. “I forgot mine at the house.”
Dooley actually reached around, before realizing Harriet was playing a little joke on him. “Oh, ha ha,” he said. “You don’t have a phone, do you?”
“No, I don’t. And neither do you.”
“Oh, no,” said Leonora, burying her face in her hands. “What have I done?”
All the animals were quiet as they listened to the woman unburdening her soul. It wasn’t a pleasant tale to hear, and I’m sorry to say I didn’t feel a lot of compassion for Mrs. Flake. The only thing I was sorry about was that we didn’t have anyone to witness her confession, for as you may or may not know, the word of a cat, or a cow, a pig, a horse, a donkey or even a sheep, goat or rabbit, for that matter, doesn’t carry a lot of weight in a court of law.
And for a moment I feared that this whole exercise was in vain, when suddenly two people popped up from a nearby bush, one of them holding a camera, the other a microphone, and abruptly descended on the scene.
“Are you sorry now, Mrs. Flake, that you gave the order to murder your son?” asked the woman, whose eyes were glittering with excitement.
Leo’s mom stared at the woman, then at the camera, then broke down into a flood of tears again.
Yep. The jig was up.
Chapter 26
A week had passed since the stirring events at Chateau Leonidas and we’d all had a little time to reflect on the incidents that had transpired at the house of that celebrated and now mourned couturier. We were in Marge and Tex’s backyard, where Tex was working away at the grill, preparing us one of his excellent meals. I must say that in all the years I’ve been with the Pooles, I’d never seen him more excited. Marge had recently bought him a new grill, some state-of-the-art contraption, ostensibly for his birthday, but we all knew her secret hope was that it would magically turn him into a better grill master.
Unfortunately there were still a few kinks to work out, and the upshot was that the patties Tex threw on the grill, or the steaks and ribs, for that matter, were instantly turned to ash and not the culinary feast Marge had anticipated when she forked over the money for the Webber Master-Touch 2010102b.
Good thing Uncle Alec had the presence of mind to call his buddy Bud Bouchard over in the neighboring town of Happy Bays, and have that stalwart butcher whip up a nice spread. If Tex was embarrassed by this fiasco, he didn’t show it. And it was my impression he had every intention to keep grilling away at his new cool toy until there was no more meat left in the world.
Alec was seated at the table, along with Marge, Tex, Odelia, Chase and Gran, while the cat population was relegated to the kids’ table, or in our case, the porch, where we occupied the swing. One extra plate had been set out—or rather a bowl—for Pussy, who was our guest of honor. And at the table for the grownups a human guest was seated: it was none other than Gabriel Crier, who’d been invited by Uncle Alec and Chase, to make up for the gross miscarriage of justice which had almost taken place under their auspices.
“Amazing flavor,” said Pussy as she dug her teeth into a nugget of meat.
“Tastes a damn sight better than Tex’s ash flavor,” Brutus chimed in.
“It’s the gesture that counts,” said Dooley.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Tex has his heart in the right place, even though he’s not exactly the world’s best grill master.”
Odelia came over to check on us, and when she saw we were all tucking in with relish, crouched down next to me, and whispered, “Can you ever forgive me, buddy?”
“Oh, but I forgave you a long time ago, Odelia,” I said, and I meant it. Moments after those reporters had come springing from the bushes, the sound of a police siren had told us they hadn’t merely filmed Leonora’s confession but had also done the right thing by calling in the cavalry.
Soon cops were crawling all over the petting zoo, accompanied by Odelia and Chase and Gran, who’d scooped us up into their arms and had hugged us and kissed us and held us as if they’d missed us for days and days. And when Dooley and I had told them our adventures, Odelia had actually cried. Her distress was short-lived, though, when Pussy joined us, and had related the tale of our heroic escape attempt and how Dooley had been the hero of the hour. And when I related how Dooley had actually saved Mrs. Flake’s life by calling for help, Odelia had hugged him so close his ribs had actually creaked.
“I’m sorry I neglected you guys,” she said now, for the hundredth time. “It was never my intention. It’s just that between work and Chase and things I kinda got distracted.”
“You have to keep your eye on the ball,” said Pussy. “That’s what Leo taught me. Never take your eye off the ball or the whole thing might fall apart.”
“Words to live by,” Dooley said, putting a piece of sausage into his mouth.
“He also told me never to eat sausage because you never know what they put into those things and the skin is made from the bowels of a dead pig.”
Dooley spat out the piece of sausage.
Pussy laughed. “Just kidding!” she said, then grew serious. “Or am I?”
“Fun times,” said Brutus with a grin.
“I’m going to make up for my sins by taking you all out next weekend,” said Odelia now.
“Out? Where?” I asked.
“To Banner’s Farm,” she said with a smile.
We all yipped. Gabe had put Chateau Leonidas up for sale. He didn’t want to keep on living there since it reminded him too much of the happy times with his partner. The animals who’d inhabited the small zoo had been transferred to Banner’s Farm, where visitors could interact with them, and where kids could attend workshops and even help feed the animals.
“Am I also invited?” asked Pussy timidly.
“Of course,” said Odelia. “It wouldn’t be the same without you, Pussy.”