She took a small pill bottle from her pocket and popped the top. I gave it a suspicious look. I don’t like pills. They usually taste horrible and tend to give me a nasty rash.
“What is that, Odelia?” asked Dooley.
“Vitamins,” she said as shook two sizable pills into the palm of her hand. “Now are you going to swallow them like big boys or do you want me to mix them into your food?”
“Vitamins?” asked Dooley. “What’s a vitamins?”
“They’re good for you,” she said. “They will give you more energy.”
“I’ve got plenty of energy,” I told her. “I don’t need vitamins.”
“I think I’ll take one,” said Dooley. “I like energy. Energy is good.”
She smiled and placed a pill on his raspy pink tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut and dry-swallowed it, then gave her a look of triumph. She patted his head. “Well done, Dooley. You’re a real champ.” Then she turned to me and held up the second pill. “Your turn, Max.”
I made a face, and Dooley said, “Max likes to roam wild and free on the Serengeti. He probably doesn’t need a vitamins.”
“Vitamin,” she corrected him. “Pluraclass="underline" vitamins. So you’re a tiger now, huh, Max?”
“And he likes bacon,” Dooley added.
She grinned. “A real tiger wouldn’t mind swallowing down a little pill.”
“Oh, all right,” I muttered, and opened my mouth wide. The things I do for my human…
Chapter 23
After Odelia had watched her father and her uncle Alec work on her kitchen door for a while, she felt compelled to remove herself from the scene. By then it was clear to her that her door was not going to survive the efforts of two men who gave the handymen of this world a bad name. They’d begun by shaving off a small sliver of door, in a bid to make the pet door fit Max’s outsized frame. Happy with the result, they’d decided to remove another bit of door, and had soon become addicted to the process. Now, at last count, it would appear they were moving steadily through the door like a pair of beavers chewing down a tree. At the rate they were going, soon there would be nothing left but a pile of sawdust.
She couldn’t watch anymore, and retreated to the house next door, entering the kitchen to find her mother baking a cake. Marge looked up when her daughter entered the house. Her button of a nose was covered in flour, and her hair was covered with a wrap.
“Oh, hey, honey. Did they finish your door already?”
“Oh, yes, they finished my door,” she said with a hollow laugh. “Finished it off. I just hope they won’t start hacking away at the rest of the house as well. Cause if they do, I might be forced to move in with you.” She sat musingly for a spell. “You know? I never realized the kind of damage termites could wreak on a fragile structure. Now I know. It’s not pretty.”
Her mother made a sympathetic noise. “Oh, honey. I should have told you that your father and my brother are the worst handymen in the world. Remember how they were going to build a treehouse? When the dust finally settled there was no tree house, and no tree, either. You should have hired a professional for that door. They would have installed that thing in a matter of minutes.”
“You’re telling me now? I’m bound to be homeless by the time they’re through.”
Marge brought a hand to her face to hide her mirth. “Oh, honey,” she said.
“It would be funny,” she agreed, “if it wasn’t so sad.”
“It’s just a door. I’ll tell Tex to buy you a new one, this time with a pet door pre-installed.”
Odelia glanced at the cake batter. She could go for a piece. Pity it wouldn’t be ready for another few hours. “And then there’s that Dieber business,” she continued her lament.
“Oh, that’s right. What’s going on with that?”
“Turns out they weren’t after Charlie after all. Just a lovers’ tiff gone horribly wrong. One of the female bodyguards was involved with two of the male bodyguards, and one of them killed the other one and then killed himself with the same gun that he used to kill his rival in love. Or at least that’s what it looks like at this point.”
Mom looked up sharply. “What it looks like? What do you mean?”
She threw up her hands. “You know how I get these hunches? Chase used to make fun of them, but they’re very real. And not just when the cats tell me stuff either. I could have sworn that this Toby Mulvaney was telling the truth when he said he didn’t do it. And we talked to Regan Lightbody as well—she’s the woman both men were in love with—and she says neither Ray Cooper or Toby ever showed violent tendencies. She was deeply shocked that Toby would kill Ray. Said it was simply not in his nature to do such a thing.”
“What does Chase think?”
“Chase is happy that the case is closed and he never has to set foot inside Dieber Castle ever again.”
Her mother laughed. “Dieber Castle? Is that what they call it?”
“That’s what Dieber calls it. Oh, Mom, you should see the guy. You wouldn’t like him. He’s this bratty, annoying, self-absorbed pop star. A kid, really. Worse than you can imagine. I think I’ll never be able to listen to his music again without remembering what a pain he is.”
“You have to separate the art from the artist, honey. I’ll bet if you met movie stars you wouldn’t be able to watch a single movie anymore. And the same goes for musicians.”
“Oh, and I lost Diego,” she said, deciding to pour her heart out now that she was going so well. “Dieber went on a catnapping rampage last night and I only managed to retrieve Harriet and Shanille.”
Mom checked the recipe in the latest cookbook she’d bought and frowned. “So much sugar. That can’t be right. Perhaps I’ll use half.” She glanced up. “Diego is not a very nice cat, honey. Maybe it’s for the best that he’s gone missing.”
“But I can’t just give him up. He belongs to Chase—Chase’s mother, actually.”
“So?”
“So Chase asked me to take care of him. I can’t go losing his cats, Mom. What kind of person loses another person’s cat?”
“Not all cats are created equal, Odelia. And Diego is clearly not cut from the same cloth as the others. So I say good riddance, and if Chase doesn’t like it—tough luck. He’s the one who foisted his cat on you, so I can’t imagine he cares either way.”
Odelia placed her head on the kitchen counter, enjoying the coolness of the marble against her heated cheek. She had to admit she’d never liked Diego all that much, and apparently he’d been wreaking havoc on her menagerie, stirring up trouble between Harriet and the others, and pestering Max by stealing his food, his water, his litter box and even his space on the bed. She’d hoped the feud would be short-lived, like the one between Max and Brutus had been, but her mother was right. As cats went, Diego was not a very nice one.
“Too much butter,” her mother was muttering. “Clogging up Tex’s arteries is not what I promised him when we exchanged wedding vows. Who wrote this? A serial killer?”
Just then, Grandma walked in, her iPhone glued to her ear as usual. Ever since Dad had gifted her the phone, she’d become an iPhone addict, taking the thing to bed with her and even wondering if she could take it into the shower. “Yes, Mr. President. Oh, but of course, Mr. President. I couldn’t agree more, Mr. President.” She held her hand over the phone and said, as an aside, “It’s the President.”
“I thought as much,” said Odelia, amused.
Grandma returned to her most important conversation. “You will have to sit down with him at some point, Mr. President,” she said as she took a seat next to Odelia and settled in for the duration. “Yes, everybody will be there. The American President, the German Chancellor, the French President, the Chinese General Secretary, the British Prime Minister, His Holiness Pope Francis, of course.” She rattled off a long list of dignitaries and Odelia exchanged a puzzled look with her mother, who merely shrugged and frowned at her recipe some more.