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“I loved your article, Miss Poole, but I don’t understand why you didn’t give me top billing. I am the richest man in Hampton Cove, after all.”

“Yes, that has been brought to my attention, Mr. Pre—Van.”

He wagged a finger. “Don’t tell me. Otto Paunch, huh?”

“He has been calling me,” Odelia admitted.

“Good old Otto. He looks out for me.”

“So what’s up with the… hogs?” asked Chase.

The President laughed. “Have you ever been President of the United States, Detective Kingsley? Don’t answer that. It’s a rhetorical question. But if you had, you’d know that Washington is a tough town. Really tough. Those monkeys on the Hill fight dirty. So to be prepared I’ve been wrestling hogs. It’s working, too. I think I got those politicians licked.”

A Secret Service man had walked up. “Mr. President, sir,” he said. “Will you be needing the hogs or can we return them to the pen?”

The President waved a hand. “You can put them back in the pen. Oh, and give them a nice treat, will you? They played a great game.” He turned back to his guests. “I love those hogs. I even named them. Crazy Chuck, Nutty Nancy, Horrible Hillary and Bonky Obama.”

“There’s four of them?” asked Odelia.

“Yeah, Bonky Obama didn’t want to come out today. Sulking as usual. Anyhoo!” He splashed his hands in the water and a plastic yellow duck popped up. He grabbed it and dunked it down again. “Dick Dickerson. Yes, he was a friend of mine. A dear, dear friend.”

“Any idea who might have done this to him?” asked Chase.

“Well, Dickie had a lot of enemies,” said the President, thoughtful. “In fact I think you should probably talk to Damon Galpin.”

“The actor?”

“Yeah.” The President’s smile died away. “He likes to think he’s me but he’s not.”

Damon Galpin had become famous for imitating the President on Saturday Night Live , and it was obvious the real President was not a fan.

“Why would Galpin have a grudge against Dick Dickerson?” asked Odelia.

“Well, Miss Poole, you’ll have to ask him that. The only thing Dick ever told me was that Galpin hated his guts. He once even attacked him.”

“Attacked him?”

“In an underground parking lot in New York. Became physical. He got in a couple punches before someone dragged him off Dick. Dick never pressed charges, even though I told him to. He was a softie, Dick was.” The President’s features softened at the memory of his dear friend. “Heart of gold. I’ll miss him.”

“There is a rumor that the two of you had fallen out. Is there any truth to that?”

The President gave Odelia a dirty look. “Now who put that idea into your head? Dick and I were like brothers. Never a bad word between us. I loved that guy. Loved him!”

“It’s just… a rumor… Van,” said Odelia uncertainly.

“That’s Mr. President to you, Miss Poole,” said the President coldly. He then hollered to his Secret Service people, “Can you get these bozos out of here? I don’t have time for this nonsense. And someone get me President Macron on the phone!”

And with these words, their interview was terminated. The Secret Service people ushered Odelia and Chase out, first escorting them back to their car, and then watching as they drove off and left the premises.

At least nobody had shot her, Odelia thought, and thrown her body to be fed on by the hogs.

Chapter 17

Brutus watched as Harriet watched Max who was watching Dooley study a brownish smear on the wall. Next to him, Milo suddenly emerged, like a genie from a lamp, and tsk-tsked mildly.

“What’s going on?” asked Brutus. He’d only been away for an hour but it felt more like a day. He’d popped around the corner to have a sniff at his favorite tree, only to discover three tomcats and two queens had tried to claim it as their own. To trump them all, he’d given the tree a rub and then, to finish things off, had sprayed it for good measure.

“It’s a sad story, isn’t it?” said Milo.

“What is?” asked Brutus.

“Harriet. She’s gone full nympho.”

He stared at Milo, goggle-eyed. “Full nympho? What are you talking about?”

“You do know what a nymphomaniac is, don’t you, Brutus?” asked Milo kindly.

“Um… a female who likes… nookie?”

“A female who has an uncontrollable or excessive sexual desire.”

He frowned at the cat. “And you’re telling me Harriet is… that?”

Milo nodded mournfully. “Alas. She’s always had a touch of nymphomania but lately she’s gone full nympho, I’m afraid. She craves, Brutus—and it would appear you no longer have what it takes to satisfy those powerful cravings.”

He looked back to Harriet, who was indeed looking at Max with the kind of fervor he hadn’t noticed in her before. Almost like a mixture of repulsion and… rapt fascination.

“She can’t possibly be in love with Max!” he said, thinking the idea laughable.

“She’s not in love with Max. She craves him—like she craves any male. Look at her. See how she’s yearning? How she’s gobbling him up with her eyes? Devouring him?”

He did see, and he didn’t like it. Time to put a stop to this nonsense. But then he noticed he’d stepped into a poop smear. Yuck! “What’s up with this crap?!” he cried.

“I’m afraid Dooley’s gone mad. It was bound to happen sooner or later. His is a mind that was going to become unhinged at some point in time. Soon he’ll start covering himself in feces and it’s only a matter of time before he becomes violent.”

“Violent?”

“Out of control. He’ll start attacking cats willy-nilly. Scratching, biting, trying to gouge out the eyes of any cat he considers a threat. When that happens there will be no alternative but to have him put down, I’m afraid.”

Brutus shivered. No cat likes to contemplate having to be put down. In fact each time Odelia took them to the vet, Brutus couldn’t help feeling this could very well be the last time. And when Vena took out those syringes she seemed to like so much, that liquid she filled them with could very well be some sort of little-known poison designed to euthanize.

“So Harriet wants to jump Max’s bones and Dooley has lost his marbles and is about to turn rabid. Anything else I should know about?” he asked, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid there is, Brutus. Have you seen the look on Max’s face?”

He had. The otherwise tame feline looked pissed off. “He looks… angry.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” said Milo. “Max has just gotten the results back from that test.”

“What test?”

“The test Odelia had Vena run on him.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know nothing about no test but wasn’t prepared to admit it. Sometimes stuff happened around here that nobody bothered to tell him about. Probably because he was the last acquisition—the last one to join Odelia’s merry band of pets. With the exception of Milo, of course, but then he wasn’t a fixture but a drifter passing through.

“I’m afraid the results of the test were conclusive.”

“What did the results say?”

Milo took a deep breath. “Max is your brother, Brutus.”

“What?!”

“I’m afraid so. The test doesn’t lie. And not only that, Harriet is your aunt.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me? How did this happen?”

Milo placed a paw on Brutus’s shoulder. “And—are you ready for this?”

“Ready for what?” What could be worse than what this cat had already told him?

“Dooley… is your son.”

From the shock, Brutus sank through his paws and dropped heavily onto the floor. For a moment, he merely stared mutely before him, then he finally managed to drag his head up and say, “Tell me all, Milo. Don’t hold anything back.”