“I know, right? I don’t know why they do it. I mean, I know why, of course. To make babies. But they get all naked and stuff, with all of their flabby bits hanging out and shaking all around. It’s disgusting.”
“It’s my eyes, mainly,” said Brutus. “They haven’t stopped burning.”
“Mine, too,” said Harriet. “I think Gran should have given us a warning.”
“Nothing could have prepared us for that,” said Brutus, and he meant it, too.
At least cats had the dignity to keep their clothes on—not that they could take them off, of course, but still. When this mission was over, he was going to demand hazard pay in the form of extra-tasty Cat Snax for at least the next year or so. And no more divorce cases.
“Odelia had a point when she said she doesn’t do divorces,” he said. “I just didn’t realize why she didn’t want to do them.” Now he did, though, but it was too late. “The worst thing is that you can’t unsee what we saw back there.”
“In time I’m hoping it will fade,” said Harriet, but she didn’t sound convinced.
“I heard hypnosis helps. Makes you forget things.” Though he wasn’t banking on it. And besides, Odelia probably had better things to do with her time and money than to escort her cats to a hypnotist. Also, what hypnotist would take their case?
“This is it,” said Harriet, halting in front of a door that had been opened to a crack. “At least if the information Gran gave us is correct.” Which was always an iffy proposition with that old lady.
They entered the room, and saw that the resident they had come to meet was entertaining a visitor. Liz Murphy was seated across from Jane Judder—at least Brutus supposed the other person was Jane Judder, whose daughter Gladys they’d seen with Brian.
“I don’t believe it,” said Jane now. She was a rather plump old lady with her hair done up in intricate little white curls, her jowly face now trembling with indignation. “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not. Your daughter is having an affair with Brian. It’s all over the home, Jane. And this is the reason she keeps showing up here—not to visit you, but to engage in carnal relations with that man.” She sat back, satisfied that her little bit of gossip hadn’t failed to grip.
Jane closed her eyes, then opened them again when a horrifying idea occurred to her.“She’s not going to marry him, is she? I’ve got nothing against Brian, don’t get me wrong, but having to call that man ‘son-in-law’ is simply too much!”
“I don’t think they’ll marry. Brian is already married, and to a fine woman, too.”
“Gladys is a widow,” said Jane sadly, as if it was her daughter’s fault that she’d lost her husband. “And a rich widow at that.”
“Which is probably the reason Brian is so interested in her,” said Liz, who was proving herself to be a regular gossip machine. She scooted a little closer to Jane and lowered her voice. “They say he’s got financial problems, and so maybe he’s pumping your daughter for a quick cash injection.”
Jane shivered at the mention of the words‘pumping’ and ‘injection.’ “Please don’t talk like that, Liz,” she implored. “Imagine having to look at Brian across the Thanksgiving dinner table, and having to watch him handling the carving knife. I’ll never live it down.”
“He won’t divorce his wife,” Liz said. “Sara is the one with the money. If he divorces her, this place is going down the tubes.”
They shared a look of concern.“Maybe he should marry Gladys,” said Jane. “Then at least we’ll both have a place here. Cause if Happy Home goes down the tubes, I don’t know where I’m going to stay!”
“Who are you then?” suddenly a voice demanded. Brutus had been so focused on the intriguing conversation that he had failed one of a spy’s most important tasks: always to keep an eye on one’s surroundings, so no adversary can surprise you.
He looked up now, and discovered to his surprise that all the while they were being observed by a very colorful parrot!
“My name is Harriet,” said Harriet haughtily. “And you are?”
“Polly,” said the parrot. “Very clich?, I know, but then no one ever accused Jane of being an original thinker.”
“So Jane is your human?” asked Brutus.
“That’s right. Who’s yours?”
“We have plenty,” he said. “Though one of them is staying here at the moment—undercover on a mission, just like we are.”
“Oh, so you guys are like spies or something?” asked the parrot, her interest piqued.
“That’s exactly right,” said Harriet proudly. “We’re feline spies, on a very important mission. And this mission involves your human, her daughter, and Brian Brooks.”
“Brian Brooks,” the parrot scoffed. “Now there’s a regular specimen. Did you know that he comes in here whenever Jane is out, and then uses this room to have some nookie with Gladys?” She closed her eyes in disgust and shook her head. “Terrible. Absolutely terrible. You wouldn’t believe the things I have seen.”
“I know,” said Brutus quietly. “We’ve seen the same things.”
“The horror, the horror,” said the parrot in a low voice.