7b2696c981e3d60fa8abbc841c83ccf4

“Five million dollars,” said Scarlett. “No wonder she had to change her name and move out here to the sticks.”

“Why?” asked Odelia.

“Honey, whenever that kind of money is involved, all kinds of vermin comes crawling out of the woodwork wanting a piece of it. Just look at this blackmailer. I’m sure there will be others just like him. In fact it’s a small miracle she’s been able to keep this a secret for so long. People are bound to find out, and if you think like a criminal, you probably figure that Rosa Bond is still in touch with the father of her kids, and if she is, why not give an enterprising crook his coordinates in Mexico, so they can organize a ‘rescue party.’ Rescue what’s left of that five milliondollars, not the man himself—who’ll probably find himself on the operative side of a deadly gun and then in a shallow grave—him and his secretary.”

I turned to Dooley.“So maybe Kingman was wrong to figure it would be best to share Rosa’s secret with the world.”

“Yeah, he probably was,” my friend agreed.

“What was Kingman’s advice?” asked Odelia, curious.

“Well, he figured that since Rosa didn’t do anything wrong, people would be sympathetic if they found out about what happened.”

“He’s got a point,” said Gran. “Except that Scarlett also has a point. That kind of money brings out the worst in people, and so maybe it’s best if nobody finds out.” She smiled at her friend. “Now tell me, honey. How much of this conversation have you picked up?”

“To be honest? Not one iota.”

“Not a single word?”

“Not a thing.”

“Don’t worry, Scarlett,” said Chase. “I don’t understand them either and that’s fine. Lucky for me I’ve got my sweetheart to translate for me.”

“Yeah, but it’s very important that I learn their language,” said Scarlett.

“Important why?” asked Odelia.

“Um…” Scarlett looked to Gran, who shook her head decidedly.

“I’m sorry,” said the old lady. “I’m afraid it’s a secret.”

“A secret!” Odelia cried. “But I just told you my secret!”

“Yeah, well, that’s where you and I are different: you can’t keep a secret, but I can. Now let’s skedaddle, Scarlett.”

“Where are you going?” asked Chase.

“Scarlett is going to attend cat choir, and see if she can’t pick up a few words.”

And before Odelia had recovered from her indignation, the two friends had indeed skedaddled, and so had Brutus and Harriet.

And since cat choir is indeed a very important social event, Dooley and I took our leave as well.

I mean, why stick around? That blackmailer was probably on the other side of town by now, counting his money and thanking his lucky stars.

And wondering how much he was going to ask the next time.

Ten thousand? Twenty? Thirty?

Easy pickings.

Chapter 7

The next morning I woke up from a peaceful slumber, lying at the foot of my human’s bed, and yawned and stretched, as one does, when I noticed a pair of eyes fixed on me. I gave the starer a kindly smile. “Hey, Brutus. Sleep well?”

“Are you sure you’re all right, Max?” my friend said.

“Um, yeah, I think so,” I said. Of course one never really knows if one is all right, does one? I mean, there can be any number of things wrong with you and you’ll never know. The feline body is, after all, a complex machine, and difficult even for its inhabitant to fully fathom. But I had a feeling Brutus wasn’t interested in these philosophical ruminations, so I didn’t go into all that. Instead, I said, “Why? Do you think something is wrong with me?” Oftentimes it’s the outsider who can see things you as the so-called insider cannot.

“Just that when you ran into me last night you may have sustained permanent damage. Then again, the effect might be delayed, of course.”

“What effect?” I asked, now thoroughly bewildered. “What permanent damage?”

“Are you permanently damaged, Max?” asked Dooley, who’d also woken up now and was following the conversation with rising concern.

“It’s just that when you run into a muscular cat like me, it’s almost like running into a brick wall,” Brutus explained. “And the damage, if not immediate, could manifest later on.”

“You mean like when Road Runner falls off a cliff and only breaks up into a thousand little pieces after there’s been a delay for comedic purposes?” said Dooley, who’s big on the Cartoon Network, at least when he’s not diligently watching the Discovery Channel.

“Something like that,” Brutus allowed. He was still regarding me with marked concern. “Watch my paw, Max, can you do that for me? Just your eyeballs—keep your head still.” And to demonstrate what he meant, he moved his paw in front of my face from the left to the right and back again. I followed his paw eagerly, without moving my head.

“How am I doing?” I asked finally.

“Mh,” said Brutus. “Everything seems to be in order. Though to be absolutely sure you probably need to see a neurologist. They can do some more extensive testing to see if you didn’t suffer any brain damage.”

“Brain damage!” Dooley cried. “Max, do you think you have brain damage?”