“Of course in the middle of the day,” said Brutus. “He can’t do it at night, cause he’s supposed to be home with his wife at night, and she probably wouldn’t take kindly to the presence of a third person in the marital bed.”
“No, I guess not,” she admitted. “So how are we going to work this thing?” she asked, not having first decided upon a strategy before they got to work.
“First we need to identify this couple,” said Brutus. “Make sure they are who we think they are, and they’re doing what we think they’re doing. Then we tell Gran, and then it’s up to her to decide how to proceed.”
“Sounds like a sound strategy,” she said, and eyed that door closely. It’s one of the perennial annoyances in a cat’s life that humans have a tendency to close their doors. And since cats are not in the capacity to open them without the assistance of a human, it tends to cause a lot of frustration.
“We need to get on the other side of that door,” she said now, stating the obvious, “but we can’t be seen by the occupants of that office.”
“Easy peasy,” said Brutus. “All we need to do is go around the back, and take a peek through the window.” He was gesturing to a window that was open a smidgen to let some much-needed oxygen into the room.
Harriet smiled at her mate.“You’re an ace, snickerdoodle.”
“Gee thanks, snowflake,” said Brutus, looking much pleased.
It had been a while since they’d gone on a serious mission like this, and admittedly they were both a little rusty. Not like Max, who solved about a hundred crimes a week, with Dooley as his perennial loyal sidekick.
And so they jumped up onto the windowsill, careful not to dislodge the two small cacti Miss Phillips had placed there, or the card that read‘Happy Birthday, Dee!’ and was positioned strategically in front of the window. But cats have an innate ability to move about with extreme stealth, sidestepping objects that other species might bump into, not disturbing even a single mote of dust that had settled upon the windowsill.
They reached the opening, gently bumped it open with their heads, and hopped down onto the gravel path that lined the back of the building. Hopping up onto the next windowsill was but the work of a moment, and they soon found that the scene that met their eyes didn’t disappoint. It hurt their eyes, for sure, but it proved beyond a reasonable doubt that Sara Brooks’s fears were justified: her husband was having an affair with his secretary. At least if the woman who was currently straddling the man in that office was indeed his secretary—and if that manwas indeed Brian Brooks.
“He could be some other guy,” said Brutus now, as they watched, transfixed, as the couple enacted some very enthusiastic and acrobatic scenes from the Kama Sutra.
“It’s possible,” Harriet admitted. Though they could only see the back of the man’s head, he did look like she had always imagined a retirement home general manager to look like: powerful and in control. Though at the moment the only control he was exerting was making sure that he didn’t fall from his chair.
At that moment the chair swiveled, as swivel chairs are prone to do, and his face came into view.
He had a pronounced nose, and his hair was thinning a little on top, and graying on the sides, but all in all he looked exactly like the picture Gran had shown them.
“It’s Brian Brooks all right,” Harriet said, with no small measure of satisfaction.
“And the woman?” asked Brutus.
They got an equally good look at Brian’s partner, and if they discounted the expression of intense rapture and satisfaction on that face, she did share a strong resemblance to the picture of Dee Phillips Gran had shown them on her phone.
“Yep. That’s her,” said Harriet.
“Gotcha,” said Brutus, mimicking her sentiments exactly.
“I wonder what she sees in him,” said Harriet. “He’s not that handsome, is he?”
“No, he certainly is not. Though beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so maybe Dee Phillips thinks he’s the most handsome man on the planet, and that’s all that matters.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” said Harriet.
They watched for a few moments more, fascinated by the strange sight, then decided to skedaddle.
“Wait, something is happening,” said Brutus.
And indeed something was happening. Brian’s phone must have alerted him of an urgent meeting, for suddenly the couple uncoupled, and started adjusting their costume with some haste. Dee buttoned up her white blouse, and Mr. Brooks made sure he looked decent and that no extraneous bits of his anatomy were left dangling.
Moments later Dee left the office, and only a couple of seconds later a second female entered, this one considerably older, but definitely younger than Gran.
“Now who is this?” asked Harriet.
“Probably one of the residents,” said Brutus.
“No, she’s too young to be a resident.” She was probably in her early fifties, and was dressed in one of those power suits your professional go-getter seems to favor. She was wearing glasses and looked the epitome of a successful businesswoman.