time he truly groaned. Fortunately, the sepulchral howl of "synthetic flesh!" from the TV drowned out the cry for help.
"When are we leaving, Your Ladyship?" Blooey asked Zanita.
"Tomorrow afternoon. I want to get an early start so we don't miss anything."
Tyber glanced back and forth between the two of them and narrowed his eyes. "Who said all of us are going?"
Five eyes gave him startled looks. That, was if you counted Hambone's one-eyed, mildly interested look as startled. "Slightly intrigued" was a better description. Hambone had a certain threshold of dignity that was never lowered—except for the occasional giblet.
"Don't be silly, Tyber, we already agreed. Remember?" Zanita gave him a meaningful look. "Of course, if you don't think you are up to the challenge…"
He gritted his teeth. Oh, he was up to the challenge all right. His wife had no idea what he was up to. A slow piratical grin spread across his gorgeous face, "We go tomorrow. Blooey, call the Florencia Inn and confirm our arrival."
"Aye, aye, Captain!" Blooey hustled off to do his champion's bidding, his step chipper. By contrast, Hambone sagged onto the rug and let out a huge snore.
"Some investigator you're going to be," Tyber muttered to the chubby feline. "All the ghost has to do is offer to share his booty with you and you'll be signing his articles."
The bandit cat opened his one eye to give Tyber a smug look that said, "In the scheme of things, who cares?"
Tyber crossed his arms over his broad chest, raised one eyebrow, and pierced the cat with a knowing stare.
Zanita recognized when the subject was getting away from them. "Tyber, I really think we need to—"
A loud pounding noise sounded at the front door.
"Who could that be at this hour?" Zanita stood up and started toward the door.
Tyber effortlessly rose from the floor, quickly overtaking her. "I'll open the door. We don't know who it might be at this hour."
"But Blooey must have let whoever it is in through the gate, so it stands to reason it must be a friend or a relative."
"That's exactly what I'm concerned about."
Zanita stuck her tongue out at his back as he went to open the door.
Tyber stopped and wagged his finger at her. "Shame on you, baby. You know I'm going to catch that tongue later." He gave her a slow smile. "No telling what I'll do with it."
Zanita could feel the flush rise on her face. Tyber had already opened the door, and her best friend Mills was standing there with her mouth gaping. She had obviously heard him.
Mills was packing. Caught by the scruff of his collar was a squirming, black-haired, green-eyed wolf-child. There was only one little boy that Zanita knew who was that beautiful and that defiant.
Cody Mazurski.
The boy looked and behaved exactly like his wild father.
And neither of them apologized for the imposition.
Zanita found her voice first while Mills was recovering from Tyber's outrageousness. "Mills, what are you doing here at this hour? And why do you have Cody with you?"
The name of the wolf-child was enough to snap Mills back to herself.
"Here!" She thrust Cody through the door. "Take him before that god-awful excuse for a father shows up."
Tyber caught Cody, who grinned up at him smugly.
"I swear the two of them have something cooked up between them! The kid keeps showing up at my shop, then claims he has to wait for Gregor to pick him up. Well, not this time!"
Tyber glanced down at Cody, who wagged his eyebrows up and down a la Groucho. At least the kid tried to contain his snicker.
Mills ran a shaky hand through her hair. "I've got to go—he's liable to show up at any minute, and I'm not in the mood to spar with—"
The sound of a motorcycle zooming down the drive came closer and closer.
"Ah, too late, Mills." Zanita commiserated with her friend as Gregor Mazurski, black-sheep brother of staid physicist Stan Mazurski, turned his cycle around in the drive with a spray of gravel. He was off the bike before it had stopped
"When are we leaving, Your Ladyship?" Blooey asked Zanita.
"Tomorrow afternoon. I want to get an early start so we don't miss anything."
Tyber glanced back and forth between the two of them and narrowed his eyes. "Who said all of us are going?"
Five eyes gave him startled looks. That, was if you counted Hambone's one-eyed, mildly interested look as startled. "Slightly intrigued" was a better description. Hambone had a certain threshold of dignity that was never lowered—except for the occasional giblet.
"Don't be silly, Tyber, we already agreed. Remember?" Zanita gave him a meaningful look. "Of course, if you don't think you are up to the challenge…"
He gritted his teeth. Oh, he was up to the challenge all right. His wife had no idea what he was up to. A slow piratical grin spread across his gorgeous face, "We go tomorrow. Blooey, call the Florencia Inn and confirm our arrival."
"Aye, aye, Captain!" Blooey hustled off to do his champion's bidding, his step chipper. By contrast, Hambone sagged onto the rug and let out a huge snore.
"Some investigator you're going to be," Tyber muttered to the chubby feline. "All the ghost has to do is offer to share his booty with you and you'll be signing his articles."
The bandit cat opened his one eye to give Tyber a smug look that said, "In the scheme of things, who cares?"
Tyber crossed his arms over his broad chest, raised one eyebrow, and pierced the cat with a knowing stare.
Zanita recognized when the subject was getting away from them. "Tyber, I really think we need to—"
A loud pounding noise sounded at the front door.
"Who could that be at this hour?" Zanita stood up and started toward the door.
Tyber effortlessly rose from the floor, quickly overtaking her. "I'll open the door. We don't know who it might be at this hour."
"But Blooey must have let whoever it is in through the gate, so it stands to reason it must be a friend or a relative."
"That's exactly what I'm concerned about."
Zanita stuck her tongue out at his back as he went to open the door.
Tyber stopped and wagged his finger at her. "Shame on you, baby. You know I'm going to catch that tongue later." He gave her a slow smile. "No telling what I'll do with it."
Zanita could feel the flush rise on her face. Tyber had already opened the door, and her best friend Mills was standing there with her mouth gaping. She had obviously heard him.
Mills was packing. Caught by the scruff of his collar was a squirming, black-haired, green-eyed wolf-child. There was only one little boy that Zanita knew who was that beautiful and that defiant.
Cody Mazurski.
The boy looked and behaved exactly like his wild father.
And neither of them apologized for the imposition.
Zanita found her voice first while Mills was recovering from Tyber's outrageousness. "Mills, what are you doing here at this hour? And why do you have Cody with you?"
The name of the wolf-child was enough to snap Mills back to herself.
"Here!" She thrust Cody through the door. "Take him before that god-awful excuse for a father shows up."
Tyber caught Cody, who grinned up at him smugly.
"I swear the two of them have something cooked up between them! The kid keeps showing up at my shop, then claims he has to wait for Gregor to pick him up. Well, not this time!"
Tyber glanced down at Cody, who wagged his eyebrows up and down a la Groucho. At least the kid tried to contain his snicker.
Mills ran a shaky hand through her hair. "I've got to go—he's liable to show up at any minute, and I'm not in the mood to spar with—"
The sound of a motorcycle zooming down the drive came closer and closer.
"Ah, too late, Mills." Zanita commiserated with her friend as Gregor Mazurski, black-sheep brother of staid physicist Stan Mazurski, turned his cycle around in the drive with a spray of gravel. He was off the bike before it had stopped
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