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“Oh, Wilbur has been telling him to pipe down plenty, but Rudolph is not one of those people who is susceptible to suggestion.”

“So maybe he should go home and practice where he doesn’t bother anyone?”

“Like I told you this morning, Rudolph’s wife kicked him out, probably for the same reason. And besides, Rudolph is co-owner of the store, so even if Wilbur wanted to get rid of him, he can’t.”

“He’s co-owner of the General Store? I didn’t know that.”

“Few people do. You see, when Wilbur had the opportunity to take over the store, all those many years ago, the bank didn’t want to give him the money, on account of the fact that one of his previous businesses had gone belly up, and his credit was in the toilet. So he had to go knocking on his big brother’s door to come up with the money. At the time Rudolph was a successful businessman.”

“Rudolph was a successful businessman?” I asked, much surprised.

“What business was he in?” asked Dooley.

“He owned several casinos in Atlantic City. So he had plenty of black money.”

“Rudolph’s money was black?” asked Dooley. “But why? Did he paint it?”

“The money wasn’t actually black, Dooley,” Kingman explained patiently. “But it was income he hadn’t declared to the IRS, so he wouldn’t have to pay taxes on that income.”

“So Rudolph invested his black money in his brother’s business?” I said.

Kingman nodded.“All very illegal, of course, but the lady Wilbur bought the store from didn’t mind. In fact she was happy to receive part of the purchasing price under the table.”

“Under what table?” asked Dooley.

“So on paper Rudolph is Wilbur’s partner?” I asked.

“Yeah, he actually owns a bigger piece of the store than Wilbur himself.”

“And of the building where you and Wilbur live. So you’re living in Rudolph’s house.”

“Yeah, so whenever he comes to stay, he stays for as long as he wants, since it’s his place, and Wilbur is a guest, and so,” he added sadly, “am I.”

“Does Wilbur have to pay rent to his brother?”

“They have some kind of arrangement. Part of the profits go to Rudolph every month.”

“Also under the table.”

“Yep.”

“You guys,” said Dooley, intrigued. “Where is this table?”

Kingman gave me a warning look.“Don’t tell anyone I said this, you hear?”

“Now who would I tell, Kingman?”

“You could tell Odelia, and she could tell Chase, and since Chase is a cop he’d feel obliged to notify the IRS and Wilbur could be in a whole lot of trouble, and maybe even lose the store.”

“I won’t tell Odelia.”

“You have to watch out for that pillow talk,” said Kingman, shaking his head.

“I didn’t know pillows could talk,” said Dooley with a laugh.

“Pillows don’t talk,” said Kingman, “but the people whose heads are on those pillows when they’re lying in bed together do talk.” He gave me another intent look.

“I won’t tell anyone, Kingman. Your secret is safe with me.”

“And with me,” said Dooley. “The secret of the money table and the talking pillow.”

“Thanks, Dooley,” said Kingman with a smile. “You’re a real pal.”

Just then, there was some kind of a commotion, and when we glanced over in that direction, we saw that Harriet and Brutus had arrived, with Gran and Scarlett in tow.

“Listen up!” Gran shouted to all the cats gathered there. “We need volunteers to act in our new photo comic. It’s going to appear in two thousand five hundred newspapers around the world, and is bound to be a surefire hit.”

“And I’m starring in it!” Harriet piped up. “Your very own choir star!”

“So if anyone feels like they want to become comic strip stars, step forward and we’ll shoot a couple of comics right here and right now.”

“Oh, dear,” I said.

“I hope they don’t pick me,” said Dooley, inching behind my broad back so he wouldn’t be spotted and picked.

“What’s this all about?” asked Kingman.

“Harriet’s latest scheme to become rich and famous,” I said. “She’s starring in her own comic strip, but since Gran can’t draw, and neither can Scarlett, they’ve decided to turn it into a photo strip instead.”

“I don’t mind being in it,” said Kingman.

“A word of warning, my friend,” I said. “Be prepared to get kicked or squashed. Harriet and Brutus are the stars. The rest is there as props to expend their cartoon violence on.”

“You mean like Tom and Jerry, where Tom always gets kicked and thrown out of windows and such?”

“Yeah, something like that, only Tom and Jerry is a cartoon, and nobody gets hurt in a cartoon. This is real, isn’t it, Dooley?”

“I was kicked three times by Brutus,” Dooley said.

“Ouch,” said Kingman.

“It didn’t hurt, though.”

But as we watched, plenty of cats stepped forward, all fodder for Harriet’s comic mill.

“Looks like cat choir has just turned into a recruiting ground for Harriet’s career,” I said.

“It’s still better than having to listen to Rudolph,” said Kingman moodily.

“You know what you should do? Talk to Gran, and suggest that Wilbur buy out his brother. That way Rudolph won’t have an excuse to drop by and intrude upon your peaceful home life.”

“Buy out Rudolph?”

“Why not? That way Wilbur will own the building and the business free and clear.”