On the way home, Bones became distracted by some chew toys in a shop window. His tongue hung out at the sight.

“Come along, Bones,” I prodded him away, only to be stopped myself by an attractive display of yarn in the window of a crafts store. I do appreciate a good skein of yarn.

“Come along, Catson,” he said, his turn to prod.

And so we continued, with only a few more stops at shop windows, until we arrived at my front door.

I was about to ask about those telegrams, but no sooner did I leap through my door than I smelled the most wonderful aroma coming from upstairs. Following my nose, I raced to the kitchen to find Mr. Javier stirring something at the stove.

“What are you cooking, Mr. Javier?” I asked. “It smells delicious.”

“Salmon croquettes!” Mr. Javier said proudly, still wearing his jetpack. Only now, he had his chef’s apron tied over it. “Normally, I’d never attempt such a complicated dish. Going to the fish monger’s and the grocery on the same day? Too far. It would take me a week! But with this?” He pointed at the jetpack on his back. “I made it there and back again so quickly, I even had time for my programs.”

Mr. Javier does like his soap operas on the radio. One might say he’s obsessed with them. He fell in love with the radio and the soap operas regularly broadcasted on the device not long after I hired him, which was several years ago. No sooner had I received my medical license and moved into my apartments at 221B Baker Street than I found myself in need of some personal assistance. For one thing, I was too busy being a surgeon to worry about the daily requirements of home ownership, like cooking and cleaning. For another, while I may be fastidious about my own bodily cleanliness, that doesn’t mean I want to spend my spare time running around with a dust rag and broom. So I went to an agency, a rude giraffe behind the counter showed me a book with possible cook/housekeepers, and I selected Mr. Javier. We’ve been happily together ever since.

“That Mr. Bones,” Mr. Javier said now, “he is so smart. I think we should keep him, Boss.”

“Yes, well, that’s not going to happen.” I ignored the turtle’s sad expression as I asked, “So what time will dinner be ready?”

“Not for a while, Boss.”

“Great. I have some important things to attend to.”

“Soooo,” Mr. Javier said, dragging out the word, “how was your day, Boss?”

This was new.

Traditionally, in the years we’d been together, my conversations with the turtle had mostly revolved around the grocery-shopping list and whether or not the place was dusted to my satisfaction. True, he might tell me little bits about his favorite soap opera, but I only listened with half an ear as it was impossible for me to keep Erica and Carly straight. But he’d never asked about my day before. Perhaps because, outside of going off to the Cat Wars, I’d never done anything very interesting in his eyes before today?

So I told him.

I filled him in on the case thus far: how we’d found the dead human in the abandoned house and I’d deduced the cause of death to be cyanide poisoning; how the dog had said the word RACHE scrawled on the wall was not a woman’s name interrupted, but rather, the German word for revenge; how the dog had concluded that two men had arrived at the abandoned house as friends, driven there by a cab, but only one had remained behind—the dead one, of course; how a woman’s gold wedding ring had been found at the scene; how Constable Gibberish had described a tall, funny-smelling man with tiny feet returning to the scene, and the dog assumed he’d come back for the ring.

“So,” I said, having completed my tally of important points, “what do you make of all that?”

“How should I know?” the turtle said. “I have the salmon croquettes to attend to here. I was simply being polite.”

I shrugged and went out to the living room where Bones had thoroughly—and disturbingly—made himself at home. He had spread out writing implements and papers all over my table and was hard at work.

Hopping up onto the cushion in front of the bay window, I settled down, curled up on my side and placed a paw over my eyes.

“What are you doing, Catson?” Bones said. “We have telegrams to write! We have a case to solve!”

“Who are the telegrams for?” I asked.

“One is to the London News. I want them to put a notice in the early evening edition.”

It wasn’t even early evening? Without the usual sixteen naps, this day was taking forever.

“What will the notice say?” I asked.

“I’m going to say that we’ve found a ring, a golden wedding ring.”

“HA!” I snorted. “That should bring all the crazies out.”

“Perhaps. But hopefully, it’ll draw the murderer out too. After all, if he was so eager to retrieve that ring that he was willing to risk getting caught by returning to the scene of the crime … ”

It annoyed me to admit it, but the dog had a possible point.

“Then,” Bones said, “I’m going to go to the jewelry store and buy an exact copy of the ring to show to whomever answers the notice.”

“Sounds marvelous,” I muttered, so close to sleep now, I barely knew what I was saying.

“Of course, I’m putting your name down as the finder of the ring.”

“Mmmm … What? Why?”

“Because my name is too famous? If the criminal sees ‘Sherlock Bones’ listed as the finder, he might suspect that something is up and steer clear.”

Well, that made sense.

“I’m also saying in the notice,” he continued, “that the ring was found in the street. This way, the criminal won’t know a connection has been made between the dead body and the ring.”

I supposed this made sense too.

“Don’t you want to help with the telegrams?” Bones said.

I briefly revived just long enough to consider this. Of course I’d received many telegrams in my day but had never sent one. I was curious. How did it work? But then:

“No, thank you,” I said.

“The jewelry store then? Wouldn’t you like to go there?”

Perhaps if it was the craft store, I’d be tempted; all that lovely yarn. I tightened my paw more closely around my head. “Only in my dreams … ”

As I drifted off, I could have almost sworn I heard Bones say, “Very well. Perhaps I’ll send Mr. Javier? He likes getting out now that he has his new jetpack.”