Niles, having free rein of the house for a bit, had crept into the laundry room. He was interested in the big white box with wet clothes in it. On top were several folded bills and some change. He jumped up, having yet another idea of how to pass along King Usbeecee’s message to Niles’s owner. Of course, Niles knew with joy that his owner could do something about the King’s endangerment. She could act on it, roar in wearing her important suit with all its leather and metal and dangerous toys. That’s what this was all about, Niles was convinced. The King had spoken to him and wanted him to pass along the information to his owner. She in turn would alert other fierce leaders. The troops would be called, the King and all Usbeeceeans saved.

Niles spent a difficult five minutes flipping open the cover on top of the washing machine. He dipped in a paw and pulled out a small, wet article of clothing. He grabbed a folded five-dollar bill in his mouth and jumped back down, excited, knowing his owner would be so pleased. She wasn’t. His owner did not seem the least bit thrilled to see Niles, and sat up in a rage when her face was draped with a pair of wet panties that had been dragged across the house. She stared at the panties and the five-dollar bill on her chest, and a chill settled over her.

“Wait a minute,” she said to Niles, who was fleeing. “Come back. Really.”

Niles stopped and looked at her, thinking, his tail twitching. He didn’t trust her.

“Okay. Truce,” West promised. “Something’s up. This isn’t just your acting kooky, is it? Come here and tell me.”

Niles knew her tone was honest, and maybe even a little contrite. He walked across the bedroom, and hopped three feet up to the bed, like it was nothing. He sat staring at her as she began to pet him.

“You brought me a pair of panties and money,” she said. “Mean something?”

His tail twitched, but not enthusiastically.

“Has to do with panties?”

His tail went still.

“Underwear?”

No response.

“Sex?”

He didn’t budge.

“Shit,” she muttered. “What else? Well, let me retrace this thing, work it like a crime scene. You went to the washing machine, opened the lid, fished this out, it’s wet, and not been in the dryer yet. So what exactly did you intend to fetch and then bring to me? Clothes?”

Niles was getting bored.

“Of course not,” West reprimanded herself. Niles could get clothes from anywhere, the chair, the floor. He had gone to a lot of trouble for one pair of panties. “You went into the laundry,” she said.

Niles twitched.

“Ah, getting warm. Laundry? Is that it?”

Niles went crazy, twitching and nuzzling her hand. West next started on the five-dollar bill. It took only two tries to affirm that money was the operative word.

“Laundry money,” West muttered, mystified.

Niles could help her no further and believed he had carried out his assignment. He jumped off the bed and returned to the kitchen, where water washed out the King’s morning greeting to his faithful subject. Niles was disappointed, and West was late. She dashed out the door, then dashed back in, having forgotten the most important item, the little box she disconnected from her own telephone. She sped along East Boulevard to South Boulevard and turned off on Woodlawn. Brazil was wearing a windbreaker with a hood and waiting in the parking lot, because he did not want her to see his small place with nothing in it.