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Chase shifted forward on his chair. He looked eager.“Yes, sir—I mean, Tex?”

“This secret has the power to unlock the heart of any Poole woman.” Except Vesta, but that was because she was a Muffin, not a Poole. And because she didn’t have a heart.

“Yes?” said Chase, hanging on Tex’s every word now.

“This is the method I used to woo and win Odelia’s mother’s heart, and this is the method you, if you choose to accept the mission, can use to win over my little girl’s heart.”

He choked back a tear. A sudden image of Odelia dressed in white striding down the aisle on his arm had suddenly flashed through his mind.“This is what you need to do.”

Chase was practically falling from his chair, his ears pricked up, his eyes wide.

“One word,” said Tex. “Serenade.”

Chase stared at Tex. Tex smiled at Chase. When the cop didn’t speak, Tex threw his arms wide. “You have to serenade her, son! Go old school. Head on over to Odelia’s house at the stroke of midnight, take up your position under the balcony, and belt out your finest ballad. I’d suggest Frankie Avalon’sVenus. Worked like a charm for me. Marge loved it.”

Grandma Muffin had loved it a lot less. Marge had still been living at home at the time, and Tex had gotten mixed up about whose window he was under. Gran had poured out her chamber pot on top of Tex’s head, later claiming she’d figured he was a cat in heat.

Which of course he was.

“A ballad,” said Chase dubiously.

“A ballad,” said Tex, smiling winsomely.

“There’s only one problem, Tex. I can’t sing.”

“Neither can I, but that didn’t stop me. Look, son. If you’re going to win my daughter’s heart, you’re going to have to make a bold move. Trust me, women love men who make bold moves.”

“Do they also love men who make total, utter fools of themselves?”

“They do, they do,” said Tex, though he kinda doubted it. “I’m sure you won’t make a fool of yourself, though. Sing.”

“What?”

“Sing. Pick any song and let me hear what you’re capable of. Judging from your speaking voice I’m pretty sure you’ve got a nice baritone. Women love a nice baritone.”

When Chase didn’t make any attempt to burst into song, Tex switched on the small radio that was located next to his desk. As luck would have it, the unforgettable Sam Cooke was singing.

“Try it,” said Tex kindly. “Sing along with the maestro.”

Hesitantly, Chase yowled,“She was only sixteen, only sixteen…”

“Mh,” said Tex, folding his hands in front of his face and tucking in his chin. “Let’s pick another one. Odelia is not sixteen, after all.”

“What about my voice?” asked Chase eagerly. “Do you think it holds up?”

Tex decided not to go there. Your kindly music teacher knows when to refrain from criticism and turn up the encouragement instead. He changed channels on his small radio and Neil Sedaka’s voice filled the room.

Dutifully, Chase sang,“Oh! Carol, I am but a fool.”

“Nice,” Tex coached. “Try to focus on the melody. Yes, that’s it.”

“If you leave me I will surely die,” Chase warbled, switching from his impersonation of an asthmatic sheep to that of Walter the singing French Bulldog.

Tex winced, though he tried not to show it. It was clear that Chase would never get past the first auditions forThe Voice orAmerican Idol.“That’s great, Chase,” he said finally, clapping his hands encouragingly. “I’ve heard enough.” That, and his ears were bleeding.

Chase gave him an expectant look.“Do you think I’ve got what it takes, Doc?”

“Oh, sure, sure,” said Tex. “Odelia will love it. Love it!” More likely she’d take pity on the poor sap and kiss him to end the torture, both his and hers. He smiled at the tough cop. “Though you might want to choose a different song. Something more attuned to my daughter’s musical sensibilities.”

“She likes Ed Sheeran,” said Chase with enthusiasm.

“There you go,” said Tex, who had no idea who Ed Sheeran was.

“Perfect,” said Chase.

“Well, you know what they say about perfection. It doesn’t exist.”

“No,Perfect is the name of the song.”

“Oh, swell.” And as they walked out of the office, Tex reminded himself to buy a new pair of earplugs.

Chapter 30

That night, Dooley, Brutus and I headed into town with a very specific mission in mind: we were going to save Brutus utilizing the power vested in Shanille by a higher being.

Frankly I had my doubts whether Shanille had any power vested in her other than the power to lead cat choir, but Brutus’s mind was made up and we’d promised him to stand by his side and hold his paw if need be.

We were looking up at the large oak front doors of St. John’s Church, which is where Shanille’s human Father Reilly works. I have no idea what denomination he belongs to. Humans seem to have so many churches to choose from it frankly boggles the mind. All I knew was that somewhere inside this building salvation awaited. At least in Brutus’s mind.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said, and proceeded up the stone steps.