Puss 'N Cahoots

it?”
Tucker asked, then dashed to the side.
    As Miss Nasty had completely emptied herself, Tucker was safe. The two cats, realizing this, also walked outside and turned to view the monkey, who swung on the light fixture, then righted herself and sat on it. She sure wouldn’t be doing that if it were night and the fixture were turned on.
    “’Fess up, Miss Nasty.”
Pewter thought the animal even worse than the blue jay who dive-bombed her at home.
    “Pretty things for pretty girls.”
Miss Nasty struck a pose.
    “My, my, don’t we think a lot of ourselves,”
Pewter purred maliciously.
    Mrs. Murphy thought to change her tack.
“How do you keep getting away from Booty?”
    “Easy as pie.”
She puffed up, swung around again.
    “Show me,”
Tucker egged her on.
    Too smart for that, Miss Nasty just intoned,
“I have my ways.”
    “I thought he locked you in that big gilded cage.”
Pewter slyly moved a little closer to the wooden side of the barn.
    “Twit. It’s painted white.”
Miss Nasty now contemplated her nails.
    “But he locks it?”
Pewter called up.
    “Yes.”
She grinned, ear to ear.
“I can get into or out of anything.”
    “You didn’t get into the van that just blew up, did you?”
Mrs. Murphy realized that Miss Nasty knew a lot more than she was telling.
    “No.”
The monkey stared down, grinned again as she enjoyed her superior position.
“You can’t trick me. I’m too smart.”
    “You go with Booty everywhere, don’t you?”
Mrs. Murphy kept on.
    “’Cept on dates.”
    “With you along, the date would be a disaster.”
Pewter laughed.
    Miss Nasty flipped her the bird, a gesture she’d studied from Booty.
“Fat fleabag.”
    “You play with yourself,”
Pewter fired back.
    “I have an itch.”
Miss Nasty bared her fangs.
    “Gross.”
Pewter’s pupils narrowed to slits.
    Mrs. Murphy hissed quietly,
“Pewter, shut up. Let me handle this.”
    Pewter glared at her tiger friend, but she piped down.
    “You know about Booty’s bringing in Mexicans,”
Mrs. Murphy flatly declared.
    “How do you know that?”
    “Saw you in Charly’s barn in the middle of the night on Thursday.”
    “What were you doing there?”
Miss Nasty was becoming intrigued.
    “Harry couldn’t sleep, so she came over to check on the horses. Was the night after Charly and Renata had the big fight. She took Queen Esther, Voodoo, and Shortro out of his barn.”
    Tucker smiled as she looked up.
“Good business.”
    “Yeah, until all those goons showed up.”
Miss Nasty, spoiled, wanted Booty to make lots of money, as then she’d get more toys, treats, and dresses.
    “Did you know Jorge?”
Mrs. Murphy asked.
    “Not really. He had something to do with that business, but I don’t know what. Booty works with the people in Texas. Charly dealt with Jorge. All three of them hooked the workers up with their employers.”
    “Who took Booty’s hair dye?”
Tucker was sure those bottles had been used to blacken Queen Esther’s neck and legs.
    The monkey’s eyes widened.
“Don’t you ever mention that! Booty would die.”
    “Because he dyed the horse?”
Pewter couldn’t stand it any longer.
    “I’m not talking to you.”
Miss Nasty grimaced.
    “Is it because he dyed Queen Esther?”
Tucker reiterated Pewter’s question.
    “No. He doesn’t want anyone to know he’s gray. He’d die.”
Miss Nasty was very loyal to Booty.
“He’s afraid to get old.”
    “Who dyed Queen Esther?”
Tucker asked. She knew, but she was testing the monkey.
    “Not Booty. But I’m not everywhere.”
She swung around again.
“I’m tired of talking about this. I want to talk about me. Did you know that I can eat a raspberry sherbet cone faster than Booty? I can. And I can use the can opener, too, so I can open any can in the kitchen if I’m hungry. I bet you can’t do that.”
A malicious gleam enlivened her eye.
“Maybe Pewter.”
    “Eat you!”
Pewter snarled, fangs at the ready.
    Just as Harry and Fair walked up to Barn Five, Miss Nasty clapped her hands. The humans spied the animals at Barn One.
    “Come on, kids,” Harry called.
    Reluctantly, the three friends turned from the monkey.
    Calling after them, Miss Nasty yelled,
“I know things.”
    “We just want Joan’s pin,”
Mrs. Murphy called back.
    “I want to kill her,”
Pewter threatened.
    “Wouldn’t mind that myself,”
Tucker agreed.
    “Not until we find that pin,”
Mrs. Murphy paused,
“and the rest of it.”
    “What rest of