“I’ll get it, Bosses! I’ll get it!” Mr. Javier cried, rising from where he’d been taking a break from pretend dusting and, powered by his jetpack, flying with great speed down the stairs.

And …

… crash.

I know I said he had gotten much better with the device and it’s true –he had – but there were still these occasional glitches.

After the expected “Ouch!,” we heard the sound of the door opening, followed by Mr. Javier’s enthusiastic greeting and the sound of muttering. Then came the heavy, clodding tread of human footsteps on the stairs. Soon, Mr. Javier was back amongst us and – with him – the two public detectives: Inspector Strange and Inspector No One Very Important.

Eyeing our unusually large assembly, Inspector Strange said, “You know, I’ve gotten used to the idea of animals talking – well, just barely – but the turtle flying is still a bit much.”

“Take your time,” Bones said, “and with a little effort, perhaps you’ll get used to that too. Now, what can we do for you fine gentlemen this evening?”

Fine? I didn’t think they were so fine. And evening? Could it already be so late? A look outside the window confirmed that this was so. Where had the day gone? How could it have flown so quickly when so many hours had passed since my last nap? Usually, nap-challenged days take forever to live through.

“We have come,” Inspector Strange announced to Bones, “to take you to prison.”

“Well, you can’t have him!” I cried, leaping up from my position in front of the fireplace and racing across the room more quickly than I would normally think my limp would carry me and hurling my body in front of Bones.

Never mind fine and evening, when had I grown protective of the dog?

“We’re not hear to arrest him!” Inspector Strange said, laughing. Then he added the unfortunate words: “You silly feline.”

I resented that.

“Then what do you want to take him to prison for?” I demanded, narrowing my eyes.

“Jefferson Hope has asked to see ‘the great Sherlock Bones’,” Inspector Strange said, clearly quoting Jefferson Hope but doing so with a high level of resentment and sarcasm. “Mr. Hope has not spoken since his arrest, save that one time he spoke with Bones shortly after, but now he says he is prepared to do so. He is prepared to tell all … but only to Bones.”

“I knew this was coming,” Bones said and, much as I hated to admit it, I believed he had. “Very well.”

Bones rose to his feet and proceeded toward the top of the stairs, only to turn back.

“Aren’t you coming, my dear Catson?”

“Oh,” Inspector Strange said, “no, no, no, no, no. That won’t do. The prisoner said nothing of the cat.”

“He will see her too or he will not see me at all. ‘The cat,’ as you so rudely put it, and I are partners. We are consulting detectives. Wherever I go, she goes. Well, except for when she is napping. Catson?”

With a soaring sense of pride – I never would have suspected I would ever feel pride at a compliment from the dog – I moved to accompany him.

And, as I moved, the six-pack of puppies and the flying turtle moved to move with me.

“No, really,” Inspector Strange said, “no, no, no, no, no. I said yes to the cat because clearly Bones isn’t coming without her, but I really cannot say yes to all of this.”

The six-pack of puppies and the flying turtle cast their hopeful eyes upon Bones.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you out with this one, lads and Mr. Javier,” Bones said. “If we crowd the prisoner too much, it’s likely he’ll never talk.”

“Oh!” Mr. Javier said with great disappointment. “I did so want to meet Mr. Jefferson Hope face to face, now that I know so much more about him. I feel so badly for him. Although I feel the need to point out that, no matter how good his reasons, you cannot just go around killing for revenge. No one should be allowed to do this.”

“Yes, well,” Bones said, “we shall tell you all about it later – I promise!”

And we were off.