A Cat Was Involved (4 page)

The man whipped around, banged his head on the roof, and staggered out. I’d seen him before: the smaller—but still way bigger than Bernie—of the two thicknecked, longhaired dudes from the Donut Heaven parking lot. Now he had shock and fear in his eyes, meaning we were up and he was down, always the best setup.

“We,” said Bernie, “meaning you, have a little problem here. This particular Audi—yellow with pink interior, the only one in the Valley—happens to belong to a friend. So if you’ll just get it all nicely reassembled we’ll be taking it off your hands.”

The longhaired dude’s mouth opened and closed and opened again. That was a sign of human confusion, something I enjoy seeing from time to time, maybe bad of me. And for sure bad this time, because I was so caught up in my enjoyment that I almost didn’t hear a quiet little sound from behind, the sound an opening toolshed door might make.

I wheeled around real quick and saw the other thicknecked, longhaired dude, the gigantic one, charging toward us, a big steel wrench raised high. Bernie started to turn, but too late. The massive dude swung the wrench down, right on the back of Bernie’s—

But not quite. Somehow, without the slightest thought, I was already in the air. I hit the massive dude square on his beefy arm, spinning him around. He lost his grip on the wrench, which zinged past Bernie’s ear and smacked down on the ground.

I smacked down on the ground myself and before I could get up, the massive dude was standing over me. He kicked me in the side real hard. Bernie didn’t like that. I could tell from his roar—so powerful it seemed to shake the air—and I’m not too clear on the details after that. For one thing, I was seeing red—the whole world, red, red, red. Did I wrestle around with the massive dude? Yes, but not for long. Did I grab him by the throat? No doubt about that. Did I taste human blood? Can’t deny it.

And meanwhile, up above me, the other dude was circling around Bernie real quick and crablike, throwing punches and landing every one—pop pop pop. Oh, no. Bernie wasn’t a fighter? What a disappointment! The dude must have realized that. He smiled—what nice teeth he had, big for a human—wound up and swung a from-the-heels roundhouse directly at Bernie’s head. That was when Bernie moved, so fast and smooth it was hard to see as he ducked under the dude’s fist, stepped in, and belted him bang on the point of his chin. There was a bonecracking thud and the dude’s eyes rolled right up. He keeled over and lay still. Some of those big beautiful teeth fluttered out.

At the same time, my guy was making whimpering noises I didn’t like. I shook my head a bit, sinking my teeth in deeper. Bernie knelt beside me. “Chet? That should do it.”

Or something of the sort. I was busy seeing red and tasting it, too.

“Chet? Big guy? Capital punishment’s a controversy in this state. I’d hate like hell for us to get dragged into it.” Which I heard clearly
but didn’t get. Bernie reached over and patted my head. “Come on, Chet. We’re done here.” I went still. That pat: absolutely the best. Bernie was a great patter? He could also deck bad guys with one punch? We were cooking.

I let go of the huge dude. He felt his neck. “I’m bleeding, I’m bleeding.”

“Not fatally,” Bernie said. “Get that car put back together. Your buddy’ll help when he’s had his rest.”

Bernie took out his phone and called in the PD. He was just finishing when Beauty came gliding in from the shadows in that irritating cattish way.

“Hey,” Bernie said. “Our brave little friend.” He bent down to pick her up. She hissed and scratched him right across the forearm. “Ow,” said Bernie, stepping back. I can’t say I was glad about the scratch, but at least there’d be no more silly ideas of getting all pally with Beauty.

∗ ∗ ∗

We met Rick at Donut Heaven early the next morning, parking cop-style, only now I wasn’t in the back of some cruiser but riding shotgun in the Porsche.

“Nice job last night,” Rick said, handing Bernie coffee and a cruller. “There were forty-two stolen cars on that lot and ATS will find lots more once they start digging through the records.”

“It was pretty much Chet,” Bernie said.

“Yeah?” Rick said. “Oh—and here’s this.”

“What is it?”

“A check from Cherry Monroe.”

“She didn’t hire me.”

“Nevertheless.”

Bernie examined the check. “It’s too much.”

Too much? What kind of business were we running?

“Don’t worry,” Rick said. “Her boyfriend’s rich.”

“What does he do?”

“Owns a company that manufactures Hawaiian shirts.”

“Yeah?” Bernie said. He got a strange look in his eye, hard to describe but maybe a little too bright.

“So,” Rick said. “Just about set?”

“For what?”

“The exchange.”

“Not following you, Rick.”

“The deal was you were taking him just for the night.”

For a moment I wondered who they were talking about, but the cruller smell made it impossible to concentrate.

“I don’t remember anything in writing,” Bernie said.

Rick laughed and drove away. What that was all about I leave to you.

Bernie turned to me. “Like crullers?” he said.

I did, very, very much. Bernie tore the cruller in two pieces, exactly the same size.

Everyone’s favorite detective team returns in a new adventure as canine narrator Chet and his human partner, P.I. Bernie Little, find that Hollywood has gone to the dogs.

Hoping to bring some Tinseltown money to the Valley, the mayor lures a movie studio to town to shoot its next production, a big-budget western in the classic tradition. The star is none other than ruggedly handsome—and notoriously badly behaved—Thad Perry. When the mayor decides that someone needs to keep an eye on Thad, Bernie and Chet are handpicked for the job. The money is good but something smells fishy, and what should have been a simple matter of babysitting soon gets more complicated—especially when they discover that Thad has a mysterious connection to the Valley that nobody wants to talk about. And the only people who might know what it is have a bad habit of turning up dead before they can talk.

Like the winning books before it, this fifth book in the series combines a top-notch mystery with genuine humor and a perceptive take on the relationship between human and dog that will stay with you long after the case is solved.

To download the the eBook, visit your favorite retailer today!

Spencer Quinn A Fistful of Collars

Currently available from Atria Books

To enjoy a free collection of excerpts from Spencer Quinn’s irresistible novels in the Chet and Bernie Mystery Series, visit your favorite eBook retailer.

Spencer Quinn The Spencer Quinn Reader’s Companion

SPENCER QUINN lives on Cape Cod with his dog Audrey and a new puppy, Pearl. When not keeping them out of mischief, he is working on the next Chet and Bernie mystery novel. Keep up with him—and with Chet and Bernie—by visiting
ChetTheDog.com.

Also by Spencer Quinn

The Dog Who Knew Too Much

To Fetch a Thief

Thereby Hangs a Tail

Dog on It

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