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  “Murrr-der,” Rosebud echoed eerily. “Murrr-der.”

  Chester inched his way toward the talking bones. “But why?” he asked. “Why were you murdered?”

  It took a moment before the voice spoke again. “Because . . . I stumbled upon . . . the truth.”

  A cold wind blew. No one dared to speak. No one, that is, but a pile of bones and a worn pink collar named Rosebud.

  “It happened one morning when the door to the office had been left open by mistake. Curious, I followed my nose in and poked about, hoping to find something good to eat.”

  I noticed Felony and Miss Demeanor nod appreciatively.

  “One door was locked,” Rosebud went on, “but another door—a door at the end of a hall—was open just a crack. This was the door that led to my demise. When I pushed it open, I sealed my fate.”

  She stopped to clear her throat, which was more than a little bizarre, since she didn’t have a throat that I could see.

  “Be warned,” she said when she resumed, her voice now full of fear and foreboding. “None of you is safe! Get out while you can, escape . . . before the secret of Chateau Bow-Wow does to you what it did to me.”

  “But, um, excuse me,” The Weasel said, “I don’t mean to interrupt Your Ghostiness, but if we stay out of the office, away from that forbidden door, how can we get in trouble?”

  There was a long pause. And then: “The secret is bigger than the place that contains it. If you do not find it, it may find you. Escape, all of you, before it is too late.”

  “But—,” Chester said.

  The voice, faint now, fading into the darkness of the night, cut him off. “Remember me,” it said, “Rosebud, the blossom that never opened. The terminated terrier. Remember me, remember me.”

  “But, wait,” Chester said, “the secret of Chateau Bow-Wow, why can’t you just tell us what it was?”

  “There is . . .”

  We all moved in to listen. The voice was so tiny now we could barely make out the words.

  “There is a—”

  “What is going on out here?” a new voice thundered.

  Terrified, we turned. There in the doorway to the office stood a giant of a man. A beam of light stretched out from his hand and caught us all in it like a net.

  I swallowed hard as the man began walking slowly toward us.

  “On the whole,” I said to Chester, “I think I might have preferred oral surgery.”

  The giant, it turned out, was none other than Dr. Greenbriar. And while his anger was great, the rest of him was no bigger than usual. He had seemed like a giant only because of the way his shadow fell from the doorway.

  “I don’t understand it,” he mumbled as he rounded us all up and returned us to our bungalows. Howie, thinking quickly, had covered Rosebud’s bones and collar with loose dirt. “How do you fellas keep getting out? I think it must be Daisy. She’s such a scatterbrain. I’m going to have to speak to Jill about her. Oh, what a nuisance!”

  He sighed and it grew into a yawn. What was he doing here in the middle of the night anyway?

  From our bungalows we watched him retreat into his office. The light stayed on for a long time. I don’t know about anybody else, but I was wishing Ditto’s blanket were off so she could report on what was happening in there.

  “Psst.”

  I looked up. The Weasel was outside my cage. “Meeting at Hamlet’s when the light goes out,” he whispered. He scurried off and I heard him repeat the message to Howie and Chester and then watched him slither across to the bungalows opposite to tell the others.

  I began thinking about everything that had just happened. Talking bones, secrets, murder, escape. Boy, I thought, why couldn’t the Monroes send us to a place with normal social activities? Volleyball, maybe, or bingo.

  “Chester,” I called softly through the wall of my bungalow.

  “Yes, Harold?”

  “What do you think?”

  There was a pause before Chester spoke again. “I think we are in danger, Harold, that’s what I think. Until we discover the secret of Chateau Bow-Wow, no one here is safe. Any one of us could wake up like Rosebud, nothing but a pile of bones. So whatever you do, stay awake, Harold. Stay awake, keep alert, be ever vigilant because . . .”

  I don’t remember the rest of what Chester had to say. I had fallen into a deep sleep.

  [ FIVE ]

  The Meeting

  I WAS jarred awake by Chester’s rattling the door of my bungalow. “What are you doing out there?” I asked.

  “I came to wake you,” he said pointedly. “We have a meeting, remember?” He nodded toward the office; the light was out. “Dr. Greenbriar left a few minutes ago. Come on, Harold, shake a leg.”

  I yawned and slouched toward the door. It was the middle of the night and I was hungry. I wondered if they’d be serving doughnuts at this meeting.

  Howie was waiting outside with Chester. We started toward Hamlet’s bungalow.

  “Boy, this is exciting, huh, Uncle Harold? I’ve never been to a meeting before. Do you think we’ll get to vote? I hope so. I’ve always wanted to say, ‘I abstain!’ Do you want to hear my speech?”

  “Your what?”

  “My speech. In case I get nominated for office.”

  Chester and I exchanged glances.

  “I don’t think—,” Chester started to say.

  “If elected,” Howie burst out earnestly, “I promise to get the job done first and talk about it later. The buck stops here, a chicken in every pot, Motherhood, America, and do you know where your kids are? Sure, my opponent accuses me of drooling on hot summer days. Well, you know what I say to that? I say, Show me a dog who doesn’t drool on hot summer days and I’ll show you a hypocrite! I have videotaped evidence of my opponent drooling in the luxury of his own air-conditioned doghouse just this past July and I am willing to go nose to nose anytime, anywhere—”

  “Howie,” Chester interjected, “I don’t believe there are going to be any elections at this meeting.”

  “Oh,” Howie said. “Well, maybe I could be sergeant at arms.”

  Fortunately, we arrived at Hamlet’s bungalow before the discussion could go much further. The others were already there.

  “I move the meeting be adjourned!” Howie cried as we gathered in a circle.

  “Ignore him,” Chester advised the others.

  Taking Chester’s advice, Hamlet spoke up. “I’m sorry to say it, but I’m kind of relieved this happened. I’ve been hearing this whimpering and moaning for a few days now and I was beginning to think I’d lost my marbles.”

  “Well, now we’ve all heard it,” said Chester. “So either we’ve all lost our marbles, or what we heard, difficult as it may be to accept with a rational mind, is as real as any of us sitting here.”

  “Oh, we heard it all right,” said Linda.

  “But what are we going to do?” Bob asked. “We have to escape, but how?”

  “Well,” said Linda, as if the two of them were having a private conversation, “why couldn’t we dig our way out, Bob?” Then, turning to the rest of us, she said, “Unfortunately, the kids have us so well trained that we have very little personal digging experience and they have a gardener who does most of their digging, so I can’t even say we’ve seen it done.”

  “The Great Escape,” Bob said.

  “Sorry?” said Linda.

  “We saw a lot of digging in that movie, The Great Escape, remember, hon? Tom and Tracy rented it the night Shelly and Chad came over. You got sick from the popcorn after.”

  “Of course,” Linda said. “Well, there you are. We do know a thing or two about digging. Perhaps we could act as technical consultants.”

  At this point, even Howie looked confused.

  “On the subject of digging,” said The Weasel, “I have to point out that the metal fence goes a long way down. I don’t want to be discouraging, but—”

  “What about the gate?” Chester asked. “Or the office? Isn’t there some
other way out?”

  Felony and Miss Demeanor looked at each other knowingly, an exchange that was not lost on Chester.

  “You know what we’re talkin’ here, pal?” Felony asked. Chester shook his head. “Max seek.”

  “Who’s Max Seek?” Chester asked.

  “Maximum security,” said Miss Demeanor, still chomping on her catnip.

  “I . . . I hate to mention it,” Hamlet said haltingly. “But Rosebud did seem to imply some urgency. Perhaps some of us should start digging while others work on figuring out a different escape plan.”

  “Done!” Chester snapped. “Dogs dig; cats figure.”

  “Where do I fit in?” The Weasel asked before the dogs among us had a chance to form a union and go on strike.

  “That’s a question I’ve been asking myself ever since I met you,” Chester said. “You can dig, but you might also be useful getting into tight places—such as the office, for instance.”

  The Weasel ran his tongue nervously along his lips. “I know it’s important that we get out, but, um, what if we get caught?”

  “Aw, stop bein’ such a goody four-paws,” said Felony, with a disdainful sneer. The Weasel looked away, embarrassed.

  “Excuse me,” said Hamlet, inching his right front paw forward on the ground. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be with the digging. My leg isn’t so good. Danged arthritis. I’m sorry.”

  We all nodded sympathetically.

  “That’s all right,” said Chester. “We’ll figure out something for you to do. Which reminds me: the parrot.”

  “Ditto,” said Howie.

  Chester gave Howie an irritated glance.

  “Maybe there’s some way he can help out.”

  “She,” said The Weasel.

  “Ditto,” Howie said.

  “What?” said Chester.

  “The parrot is a she,” The Weasel pointed out.

  “Ditto,” Howie repeated.

  Chester said, “Howie, would you stop that? If you have something to say, at least be original.”

  “The parrot’s name is Ditto,” said Howie.

  “Well, of course it is!” Chester shouted. He grabbed his tail and began licking it with all his might. I’ve seen this before. It’s his watch-me-do-this-and-maybe-you’ll-forget-what-a-fool-I-just-made-of-myselfploy.

  “Look,” Linda said, “there’s a shrub in front of the fence between Felony’s and Miss Demeanor’s bungalows. Perhaps we could dig a hole behind that. That way, it would be hidden from view.”

  “Good thinking,” Chester said. “Okay, so the dogs will dig. And the cats, with Ditto’s help, will try to figure out a way to break into the office or unlock the gate. Is everyone agreed?”

  “Let’s vote!” Howie cried.

  “We don’t need to vote,” said Chester.

  “Please, Pop!”

  “Howie,” Chester said, “go work on your acceptance speech.”

  Howie looked startled. “You mean I won?” he asked. “Wow, and to think I never even kissed a baby or threw mud at my opponent. I was looking forward to that part.” And he trotted off.

  “I been thinkin’,” Felony piped up. “It’s kinda strange we ain’t heard nothin’ from the bones this whole time.”

  “Do you mean Rosebud?” I asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, Rosebones. What do you say we ask her some questions? Like, fr’instance, What is the secret of Chateau Bow-Wow? She was about to spill the beans just before old Doc Greenbriar appeared on the scene.”

  “Maybe the secret’s got somethin’ to do with him,” Miss Demeanor said. “Maybe that’s why he was here tonight. He knew somethin’ was up and he was spy in’ on us.”

  “Maybe there are more bones buried around the place,” said The Weasel.

  “You don’t mean to suggest,” said Hamlet, “that there were others before Rosebud, others who . . . never went home?”

  A shiver went through me.

  “What’re we waitin’ fer?” Felony piped up. “Let’s go ask her.”

  We all crept over to the spot where Howie had hastily covered the remains of Rosebud. Chester called to her softly. She didn’t answer. He tried again. And again.

  “Perhaps she’s on another plane of existence,” Hamlet suggested, “and she can’t hear us right now.”

  “Well, they ought to have answering machines on the Other Side,” Linda said, “so if they’re tied up on another plane of existence, you could just leave a message at the beep.”

  “Great idea, hon,” said Bob.

  The Weasel suggested we try again in the morning.

  “Right,” I said with a loud yawn. “Nothing’s going to happen between now and breakfast.”

  “I’m not sure I agree with you,” Chester remarked as we walked back to our bungalows. “Anything can happen, Harold. And it can happen anytime. It’s true we must escape, but the only way we’re going to be safe, really safe, is for someone to find out the secret of Chateau Bow-Wow. If it isn’t going to be Rosebud, then it will take someone else, someone heroic, someone who dares to go where no one has gone before, someone who is willing to risk life and limb—”

  “Wait a minute, Chester,” I said. “If you think you’re going to flatter me into this . . .”

  “I was referring to myself,” Chester said flatly. “I’m going to find out the secret of Chateau Bow-Wow, Harold.”

  I turned to face him. His eyes were filled with determination. I knew there was no swaying him, no matter what terrible fate might lie in store. A shiver of dread went through me.

  Even as I tried to fall asleep, I couldn’t shake the chill. Nor could I shake Howie’s ranting two bungalows away:

  “I will not shirk my responsibilities nor forget the promises I made on my way to being elected. More miles to the gallon, more crunch in every spoonful, and a par-tri-idge in a . . . pear . . . tree.”

  [ SIX ]

  The Secret of Chateau Bow-Wow

  MORNING exercise is not my favorite thing in the world. Let me put it another way: My idea of morning exercise is raising one eyelid followed within the hour by the raising of the second eyelid. If I’m feeling really ambitious, I sometimes roll over.

  When I raised both eyelids this particular morning, I saw that rolling over wasn’t going to cut the mustard at Chateau Bow-Wow. There in the center of the compound were Daisy and Jill wearing identical warm-up suits. I know they’re called that because Mr. and Mrs. Monroe have similar ones, except that unlike Daisy’s and Jill’s they don’t say WE’RE ANIMALS FOR EXERCISE on the front and A PHYSICALLY FIT PET IS A HAPPY PET On the back.

  “Okay, everybody!” Jill shouted, as she bounced up and down. “It’s aerobics time!”

  The silence was deafening.

  Daisy ran around, throwing open all our cages and crooning, “Out you go, little cuties, nothing like a little workout before breakfast!”

  Only Howie exhibited enthusiasm and that’s because he’s a puppy and doesn’t know any better.

  Chester and I joined the others in a circle run. I heard him mumbling something about calling his lawyer after he’d called his travel agent just as soon as he got home. At one point, we passed Felony and Miss Demeanor, who clammed up the moment they spotted us. What were those two up to anyway?

  Chester was curious too. So he informed me after breakfast (a curious dish that had the consistency of a paste-and-kitty-litter pudding), although not until he’d had the chance to offer commentary on my dining habits.

  “How can you eat that slop?” he asked, eyeing my empty bowl. I noticed he hadn’t touched his.

  “I pretended it was a hot fudge sundae,” I said, a hair defensively. “Don’t you ever use your imagination?” I realized the moment these words left my mouth that asking this of Chester was a little like asking a dancer if he ever used his feet.

  Chester rolled his eyes and sighed.

  “If I may change the subject,” he began.

  “You brought up breakfast,” I said.

&nb
sp; “Nice turn of phrase, Harold.” Clearing his throat, he went on, “Have you noticed anything odd about those two cats?” He indicated Felony and Miss Demeanor, who were stretched out in a patch of sun in front of their bungalows. Felony was twitching her head this way and that, either trying to keep up with a fly or auditioning for the part of Robocat. Miss Demeanor lay flat on her stomach like an imitation bear rug. Her head bobbed up and down to the rhythm of her chewing.

  “No,” I said, “they seem like normal cats to me.”

  “They are definitely up to something,” Chester said. “I wonder if they have something to do with the secret of Chateau Bow-Wow. I know one way for us to find out.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want you to pal around with them, Harold. When you’re not busy digging our tunnel to freedom, that is.”

  I started to protest, but Chester was already way ahead of me. “It’ll be easy. You’re going to be hanging out on their turf anyway. Just see if you can get them to leak some information.”

  “What are you going to be doing, if you don’t mind my asking, while I’m looking for leaks?”

  He lifted his head and stared off toward the office. “I’m going inside,” he said dramatically.

  “Ah.” I looked over at the office window. Through it, I could see Ditto pecking at some birdseed in her cage. Beyond her, there was a general bustle and commotion as Daisy, Jill, and Dr. Greenbriar went about their business.

  “And exactly how do you think you’re going to get in there, Chester?” I asked. “It’s not like you have an appointment.”

  “True. But I do have charm,” said Chester.

  I cocked an eyebrow at this one.

  “And if all else fails, there’s the bird. A veritable font of information.”

  An hour later, Chester found me digging behind the bush between Felony’s and Miss Demeanor’s bungalows.