Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Revenge

“Is this the end of the Kenspeckles?! The final nail in your coffin?!”

“Wow. That’s just plain mean,” said Dooley.

We watched the bodyguard zoom in on the pap. Amazingly, the scrawny pap kept on firing his camera. Courage under fire. Or the smell of money.

“For a guy built like a freight train that bodyguard sure moves fast,” Dooley said.

“I think he’s going to catch him. I think he’s going to catch him and sit on his head and squash him like a melon.”

But then the reporter lost his footing and splashed headfirst into the pool.

“Aw,” both Dooley and I said. Talk about a downer ending.

I was starting to feel like those two old guys on The Muppet Show , Statler and Waldorf, keeping up a running commentary. And I was starting to understand the appeal of the Kenspeckles. They sure knew how to put on a good show. You never knew what was going to happen next.

The bodyguard plucked the photog from the pool and dragged him ashore. He looked like a drowned chicken, spluttering and yelling his head off. He was still holding on to his camera, though, and was clicking away.

“You have to hand it to him,” Dooley said. “He’s one dedicated dude.”

The bodyguard started frogmarching the intruder off the premises. Just then, Kane came racing past, followed by a panting Brutus. They slipped between the bodyguard’s feet, and he toppled into the pool, dragging the paparazzo with him, making a big splash. The spray spattered all the way to Shayonne and Shalonda Kenspeckle, who shouted their annoyance. They used words I’d never heard before. Very original. And very colorful.

“Man, they’ve got dirty mouths,” said Dooley, looking shocked.

“They’ll probably cut that from the show. Have to keep it PG.”

The bodyguard and the paparazzo came splashing from the pool, both soaking wet, the bodyguard’s face a thundercloud. The man was seriously pissed. Just then, more paparazzi came crashing through the boxwood hedge, and suddenly we were at a full-blown red-carpet event, cameras clicking and people shouting and clamoring for attention. More bodyguards came rushing to the scene, trying to catch the out-of-control paps.

“This is so much fun!” Dooley cried.

There were paparazzi everywhere, chased by burly rent-a-cops. A few more paps ended up in the pool while others were pinned to the deck. In the middle of all this pandemonium, Brutus was still chasing Kane, though the chase had slowed down to a crawl as both were running out of gas now.

“I’m starting to like the Kenspeckles,” I said. “Great entertainment value.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Dooley. “Ouch.” The exclamation was in reference to more paparazzi tripping over Brutus and Kane. They were tackling more paps than the bodyguards were. Maybe the Kenspeckles should appoint Brutus to head up their security team. He was doing some serious damage.

“Looks like Brutus is scoring one for the home team,” I said.

Harriet had jumped up on the couch and was watching the scene intently.

“Shouldn’t you be helping your boyfriend?” Dooley asked a little bitterly.

I didn’t blame him. Us cats might not be on Facebook but that doesn’t mean we like it when someone unfriends us the way Harriet had done.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Harriet said, shaking her head sadly. “He’s got this cockamamie theory about the murder, and he’s adamant that Kane is going to supply him with the missing link to the killer.”

“What’s his theory?” I asked.

She hesitated, loyalty to her boyfriend warring with her desire to unburden her soul. Finally the need to confide in someone won out. “He thinks Shana was killed by a giant dog who bit her head off.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. I hadn’t expected this.

“A giant dog?” asked Dooley. “You mean like a big, humongous dog?”

She frowned at him. “Yeah, a gigantic dog who bit her head off and spit it out again when he discovered he didn’t like the taste of human head after all.”

“That’s crazy,” Dooley said. “The Kenspeckles don’t have a giant dog.”

I stared at Dooley. “Is that what you think is crazy here? What about the idea that dogs bite people’s heads off?”

“Well, don’t they?” he asked.

“Of course they don’t! It’s a physical impossibility!”

“But what if they’re big enough? Like Cujo?”

“Cujo never bit anybody’s head off! No dog can bite someone’s head off!”

“Well, Brutus is convinced they can,” said Harriet. “He’s convinced the Kenspeckles have a pack of vicious dogs running around. He’s seen them on one of those Bravo shows. Huge and ferocious creatures. All the big-name celebrities keep them nowadays. To protect themselves from paparazzi and kidnappers and stalkers. He thinks one of the dogs went rogue. Got a taste for human blood and bit Shana’s head clean off. And now the Kenspeckles are trying to cover it up. They’re hiding the dog somewhere in this house. He thinks Kane knows where, and he’s trying to get him to give up the location.”

“To get him to roll over on his monster dog friend?” I asked.

She nodded, chewing her lip. “He says he needs to break Kane. Make him squeal on his canine brother. Says it’s the only way to get the truth.”

“But what about Clarice’s statement? What about the masked killer and the big-ass meat cleaver?” I asked, exasperated.

“Brutus says Clarice can’t be trusted. She’s nuts and will say whatever to get attention. And his meat. She’ll do anything for a slice of filet mignon.”

“Your boyfriend is crazy,” Dooley said. “Absolutely batshit crazy.”

Well, I wouldn’t have put it so strongly, but basically he was right.

“At least we don’t have to worry about Brutus getting in good with Odelia,” I said. “If he tries to sell her his mad dog theory she’ll just laugh.”

“Oh, cut it out, Max,” said Harriet, giving me an angry look.

“Cut out what? What are you talking about?”

“Cut out the bullying. You’ve been mean to Brutus from the start.”

I couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Me? Mean to him?”

“Yes, you are a mean cat and a bully. Can’t you see that Brutus wants to fit in? To be welcomed into the community? He’s doing his best and you keep pushing him away. I think it’s very selfish of you, Max. You too, Dooley.”

This was just crazy talk. “Look, he’s the one who started bossing us around from the moment he set foot in this town.”

“Can’t you see through that, Max? That’s just a pose. Deep down, Brutus is a gentle, sensitive soul. All he wants is to be loved and accepted the way he is.” She sighed as we all watched Brutus chasing Kane around the pool.

“Come back here, you little weasel!” he was shouting. “Wait till I get my claws on you, you stupid mutt!”

Harriet was right. A gentle and sensitive soul. No doubt about it.

More and more paparazzi were splashing in the pool, tripped up by Brutus and Kane, and had to be fished out by bodyguards. Who knew so many paps couldn’t swim? Brutus was doing the Kenspeckles a big favor.

“I don’t see it,” said Dooley. “I don’t see the sensitive side in Brutus.”

“Well, he’s got one,” Harriet snapped. “You’re not looking hard enough.”

Dooley opened his mouth to retort. When he caught Harriet’s eye he thought better of it and closed it again. There are some battles you can’t win.

“Brutus is the sweetest cat you can imagine,” she said. “A real gentlecat.”

“I’m going to cut you, you ugly mongrel!” the gentlecat was screaming. “I’m going to cut you up so bad even your own mother won’t recognize you!”