by Nic Saint
“Oh, I’d love to,” said Rufus, ignoring Brutus’s outburst, which he must have picked up loud and clear. Dogs not only have a superior sense of smell, their hearing is pretty solid, too. “Just give me a mo,” the big dog said, and as Harriet stood back, Rufus effortlessly jumped on top of the garden table, then on top of the fence, and straight into their backyard, much to Brutus’s horror.
“You’re not using my litter box!” the cat yelled.
“Oh, don’t worry, Brutus,” said Rufus with a pleasant smile. “I won’t.”
There had been a time when all the neighborhood dogs had started using cats’ litter boxes, but luckily that folly had been short-lived. Now they did their doo-doo on the sidewalk again, as before, with their humans picking up after them. It wasn’t ideal, but it was still preferable to having to share a litter box with every deserving canine.
“So let’s do this,” Rufus muttered, and began to sniff around to his heart’s content.
“I swear, if he so much as lifts his hind leg and pees…” Brutus said under his breath.
“Oh, don’t be such a grinch, Brutus,” said Harriet. “Rufus is helping us out, so you should be nice to him.”
“Grmbl,” was Brutus’s response.
“So weird,” said Rufus after having sniffed his way all around the backyard and returning to where Brutus and Harriet sat near the fence.
“What is?” she asked.
“Well, I’m picking up the same scent that I’ve been picking up in my own backyard the last couple of days. And I’ve been wondering where it comes from. I don’t recognize it as belonging to either Ted or Marcie or any of their friends. So it must be a stranger.”
“You mean someone’s been in your backyard, too?” asked Brutus, momentarily forgetting his antipathy at this startling revelation.
“Yeah, two distinct scents belonging to two distinct individuals. I picked them up for the first time about a week ago, and now again here.”
“These must be the thieves,” said Harriet slowly. “They must have passed through the Trappers’ backyard before jumping the fence and coming here to steal the gnomes.”
“But why?” asked Rufus. “They could easily have come in through the field.”
They all stared at the field in question, which was located behind both their backyards and Odelia’s, too. It was a piece of land covered in brambles and overgrown weeds and nettles, and provided the perfect access and egress into all of their backyards.
“Nothing was stolen from your place?” asked Brutus, taking the case in paw.
“Nothing as far as I know,” said Rufus.
“Weird,” said Harriet. “Very weird.”
“Say, listen,” said Brutus, clearing his throat. “Um… you’ve got a pretty solid sense of smell on you, right?”
“I can’t complain,” said Rufus with a smile.
“Well, um… well, see, the thing is, Gran and her friend are launching a neighborhood watch. And so I was wondering…” He coughed nervously. “See, the thing is… we could use someone like you on our team.”
Harriet smiled. It surprised her that her dog-hating mate would suddenly display such a change of heart, but it most definitely pleased her. “Great idea, snuggle bug,” she said. “Brutus is right, Rufus,” she added. “We could use a dog like you on our team.”
“Neighborhood watch, eh?” said Rufus, giving this some thought. “Well, why not,” he said finally. “I’ve always wanted to be a cop dog, and this is probably as close as I’ll get.”
Brutus grinned, and so did Harriet. This was great news. Cats and dogs, fighting crime together as a team. Which reminded her of another idea that had hit her shortly after Max and Dooley had set out for their morning stroll.
“Say, Rufus, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask.”
“Shoot,” said the amiable dog.
“The thing is, you know that Odelia has mice, right?”
“Yeah, you guys told me about that.”
“Well, they’re making an awful mess of the house, and Odelia is fed up and frankly so are we. So I was wondering… Could you drop by one of these days and have a word with them? They don’t seem to respect cats, but maybe they do dogs. Especially as you’re so big and strong and all?”
Rufus grew a few inches as she spoke, and she could have sworn he was blushing. “No, of course,” he said. “If you think it’ll make a difference I’d be more than happy to help.”
“Great,” she said, well pleased. “That’s settled then.”
After Rufus had returned to his own backyard, Brutus turned to her and said, a slight hint of suspicion in his voice, “Why did you ask Rufus to take care of the mice? I thought Odelia had asked Max to deal with them?”
“It’s obvious Max can’t cope, wuggle bear,” she said. “And neither can Dooley. So I thought maybe we should lend them a helping paw. After all, that’s our house, too.”
Brutus didn’t seem to agree. “I still think asking a dog to do a cat’s job is simply wrong. Besides, we’re going to owe him big time. And I hate to be indebted to a dog.”
“Oh, don’t be such a prig, Brutus,” said Harriet. “Dogs are God’s creatures, too, you know. And Rufus is a nice dog, as dogs go.”
“He is nice,” Brutus agreed, then gave her a curious look. “Maybe a little too nice.”
She stared at her mate, then broke into an incredulous bark of laughter. “Brutus, you’re not jealous, are you?”
“Of course not,” he said gruffly, staring at the ground.
“You are! I don’t believe this. Jealous of a dog!”
Brutus shrugged. “So what if I’m jealous? Clearly that dog likes you.”
“He doesn’t like me like that, you fool!” she cried, but felt touched by Brutus’s behavior. So she planted a gentle kiss on his brow, which was puckered with worry. “Oh, sugar plum,” she said. “I only love you, you foolish tomcat. Don’t you know that by now?”
“I guess sometimes I don’t,” he murmured.
“Here, look at me,” she said, and tilted his head. “You’re the only one for me, cuddle cakes.”
He smiled then, and they kissed.
8
Marge was leafing through a Jackie Collins book, to see if there weren’t any pages ripped out or remnants of food left when old Mrs. Samson walked into the library, carrying her usual shopping bag full of books.
Mrs. Samson was a little old lady and one of Marge’s regulars. She came in almost weekly, and judging by the number of books she read probably did little else but read.
“All finished already, Mrs. Samson?” asked Marge pleasantly.
“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Samson, twin blushes on her cheeks as usual. She preferred to read the saucy romance novels—in fact the saucier the better. “Anything new?”
“I put a couple of books aside for you that I think you might like.”
“Oh, goodie,” said Mrs. Samson, and followed Marge to the counter.
Marge dove underneath her desk and brought out a nice pile of books she hoped would satisfy her customer’s voracious reading appetite.
Mrs. Samson picked up the first book and studied the bare-chested male on the cover. Her blush deepened. “Now doesn’t this look nice,” she murmured. “Is it very steamy?”
“As steamy as it gets,” said Marge with a smile. She was well aware of the woman’s predilection by now, and since she always feared she’d run out of books for the old lady to read kept stocking up on the more steamy segment as much as her budget allowed.
“Thanks, Marge,” said Mrs. Samson, displaying a toothy grin. Then she placed her bag on the counter and Marge proceeded to scan the books while Mrs. Samson disappeared between the rows of bookcases in search of more reading material.
And as Marge placed the books Mrs. Samson had checked in on the book cart, her mind returned to the topic that had been engaging her for the last couple of weeks: her daughter’s upcoming nuptials.
The topic had created a certain
amount of tension between mother and daughter. Marge wanted to organize a big wedding for her only child, while Odelia herself, and her future husband, wanted to keep things small. They only wanted to invite a couple of friends and their nearest relatives and have them all over for dinner at the house.
At the house! Marge had already explained to Odelia how they couldn’t possibly all fit, but her daughter insisted they could, at least the number of people she had in mind.
Marge, on the other hand, wanted to do things in style and hire a wedding planner and book a nice venue. Though how they were going to get a good place this late in the proceedings was beyond her. She’d advised Odelia and Chase to put the wedding off until the spring, or even the summer, and take their time to do things properly.
Odelia wouldn’t hear of it, though, and said she’d always dreamed of a small affair with only her nearest and dearest.
And while Marge could see where she was coming from, she insisted they needed to involve the town. She hoped and prayed that Odelia would only marry once, and she wanted to make it a day to remember. If they did things Odelia’s way she feared her daughter might regret it later, and Marge wanted to avoid that at all cost. Well, not at all cost, necessarily, but still. She’d talked it over with Tex and they were prepared to pay for the whole thing. It had created another point of contention, as Odelia didn’t want to hear of it. She and Chase were going to pay and no one else.
Marge sighed as she placed a book on wedding etiquette on the cart and started pushing it in the direction of the racks of books. And she’d just started replacing the books in their designated spots when the library doors swung open and Vesta and Scarlett walked in.
Even though Marge had welcomed the fact that her mother had reconciled with her friend, sometimes she wondered if this newfound friendship wasn’t actually a bad thing. Vesta by herself could do a lot of damage, and now that she’d found herself a partner in crime things could be exponentially worse.
“Marge!” Vesta yelled. “Marge, show yourself. Oh, there you are. Trouble in paradise, honey. It looks as if Dan killed some woman—probably his secret girlfriend. And you know what that means, don’t you? Doom and gloom.”
“What?” Marge cried, as she almost dropped a copy of Miss Marple’s complete short stories. “What are you talking about?”
“A woman was found murdered in Dan’s office,” Scarlett explained with visible glee. “And your brother seems to think that Dan did it.”
“Yeah, and if Dan is sent up the river that’s the end of the Gazette I would think, which means your daughter will be unemployed.”
“And with her wedding coming up the timing couldn’t possibly be worse,” concluded Scarlett with relish. “She’ll be out of a job, without a paycheck, and will have to postpone the wedding. Terrible, terrible news.”
“The worst,” Vesta agreed.
“Oh, God,” said Marge, sinking down onto the cart and upending a stack of books about women doing naughty things with wolves. “I don’t believe this. Dan? A murderer?”
“I always thought there was something fishy about that man,” said Vesta. “Haven’t I told you there was something fishy about that man, Scarlett?”
“No, you haven’t.”
“Well, I’m telling you now.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Marge, bringing a weary hand to her brow, which was now bedewed with nervous sweat. The word picture her mother had painted was not a pretty one.
“Which means Odelia has been working for a killer all this time,” Vesta continued her tidings of doom. “It’s a miracle he never killed her.”
“Probably a liaison that ended badly,” Scarlett opined. “You know what old men are like. She probably came to end things, and he took it badly so he bashed her head in.”
“He bashed her head in!” Marge cried, upending another stack of books featuring women doing naughty things with vampires.
“With a garden gnome,” said Vesta, a wicked gleam in her eye.
“Not one of Tex’s garden gnomes,” said Marge, horrified at the implication.
Vesta shrugged. “Only time will tell. But it wouldn’t surprise me. Dan probably plundered Tex’s collection of gnomes last night, and this morning used one to murder his girlfriend.”
“But why?” Marge cried.
“Because he’s a murderous brute, that’s why,” said Scarlett. “These people don’t need a reason to do what they do. It’s in their blood.”
“Not Dan Goory. We’ve known Dan for years.”
“Which just goes to show you can never tell,” said Vesta with satisfaction. “I’m sorry about the wedding.”
“Yeah, that’s too bad about the wedding,” Scarlett agreed, though she didn’t look disappointed at all, and neither did Vesta.
“Well, I can’t stand around here yapping all day,” said Vesta. “Let’s get out of here, Scarlett.”
“Where are you going?” asked Marge, still recovering from the shock.
“Now more than ever it’s important we get this neighborhood watch up and running,” said Vesta.
“Make sure this kind of thing never happens again,” Scarlett pointed out.
“Killers like Dan Goory should be stopped in their tracks. And we’re going to make sure they are—isn’t that right?”
“Damn skippy,” Scarlett agreed.
Marge watched both ladies walk off. Next to her, Mrs. Samson had appeared and had stooped down to pick up one of the books Marge had dropped. It was a book with a bare-chested man on the cover with fangs and drops of blood on his six-pack. “This looks nice,” she murmured, and dropped it into her basket. She then glanced up at Marge. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” she said, and shook her head, little white curls dangling gently as she did. “I don’t believe for one minute that Dan is a murderer. Not one minute.” And with a sweet smile she patted Marge on the arm. “You hang in there, sweetie. Your daughter is a lot smarter than your mother. She’ll find the killer—just you wait and see.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Samson,” said Marge, touched by the woman’s words.
The old lady’s smile widened. “Mark my words, your daughter’s wedding to that hot young cop will go off without a hitch. And before you know it they’ll be at it like bunnies, making you, my dear Marge, a very young granny indeed.”
It was with mixed emotions that Marge checked out Mrs. Samson’s latest haul. The prospect of Odelia and Chase’s wedding going off without a hitch was a pleasant one—the thought of becoming a ‘young granny’ a lot less!
9
The investigation was picking up pace and Dooley and I were in the thick of it as usual. After talking to Kingman and Buster we’d returned to the Gazette in the hope of finding Odelia there. As I’d surmised she was engaged in conversation with Chase inside, in her own office, devising a plan of campaign. So when I told her about the UPS guy she actually picked me up (with some effort, I might add) and planted a kiss on my head!
“That’s great news, Max,” she said. She immediately related my words to Chase, who nodded. He was in full detective mode now, judging from the stony look on his face.
“We have to find this UPS guy,” said the cop. “Hopefully he’ll be able to tell us more about what happened.”
“One thing’s for sure. Heather Gallop’s visit to Dan is connected to Maria Power.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The message she sent Dan. Gnomeo?”
“Could have been related to the Gazette.”
“According to Dan, Gnomeo refers to a movie starring Maria Power that has been lost for years.”
“A lost movie!” Dooley cried. “So romantic!”
“Yes, it is,” said Odelia with a smile. “So Maria Power’s very first movie, back when she was a complete unknown, was also the last movie made by Rupert Finkelstein.”
“I think I’ve heard of him,” said Chase, his brow creasing as he searched his memory.
“Rupert Finkelstein was the most succes
sful and famous director of his time. He made half a dozen movies that are considered masterpieces today. But when he made a version of Romeo and Juliet, a whimsical farce, the movie ended up costing so much money the studio fired him from his own production. In retaliation Rupert quit the business, but not before destroying every last copy of the movie.”
“So the first movie of Maria Power never came out?”
“No. But the studio rumor mill had it that Maria’s performance was the best thing about the whole project, and soon her name was on everyone’s tongue, Hollywood’s hottest new property. Her career really took off then, and she was in hit after hit.”
“All based on a movie that no one ever saw.”
Odelia nodded, and chewed her bottom lip. “Dan thinks that maybe this mystery guest, this Heather Gallop, was going to offer him a copy of the movie—hence the message.”
“So... Gnomeo refers to this mystery movie?”
“Yeah. Maria’s character spends a lot of time talking to a gnome.” When Chase crooked an eyebrow she shrugged. “I told you it was a whimsical farce.”
“More like a whimsical flop if you ask me. No wonder the studio shut it down.”
“So Dan thinks Heather Gallop had a copy of the movie?” I asked.
“But I thought the movie doesn’t exist?” asked Dooley.
“If it does exist, it’s probably worth a great deal of money,” said Chase.
“Oh, it’ll be priceless,” said Odelia. “Absolutely priceless.”
“How can something be priceless, Max?” asked Dooley. “Doesn’t everything have a price?”
“Some things are so valuable it’s impossible to put a price on them,” I explained.
“But why come to Dan?” asked Chase. “Because of the Gazette?”
“No, because of the Gnomeos,” said Odelia, and laughed when Chase made a face.
“What are the Gnomeos, Max?” asked Dooley.
“I have no idea,” I said. “But I have a feeling we’re about to find out.”
“The Gnomeos is what the members of the official Maria Power Fan Club call themselves,” Odelia explained. “There is a second fan club, though, run by a man named Jack Warner: the Maria Power Society. But Dan is founder and chairman of the first one, the original. And in his capacity as club leader he’s in charge of the Maria Power retrospective, organizes exhibitions dedicated to her life and career, publishes a monthly club newsletter and much, much more. It’s one of his biggest passions in life.”
