Niles sprang over her head, landing on her desk. He hit InLog on her Personal Information Center phone until he found the number he wanted. Then he hit Speaker and Dial. He waited until his owner almost had her hand on the back of his neck. He bopped her nose and was gone again as a phone loudly rang and rang over the speaker.

“Hello?” Piano Man answered.

West froze.

“Hello?” Brazil asked again.

She snatched up the phone.

“How’d I call you when I didn’t?” she demanded to know as she read Brazil’s number on the video screen.

“Who is this?” Brazil asked.

“Niles did it, not me,” West said.

“Virginia?”

“I didn’t do it,” she said, glaring at Niles, who was stretching one leg after another from a safe distance.

“It’s not like it’s a crime if you called me,” Brazil said.

“That’s not the point.”

“You want to have breakfast or are you tied up?” Brazil said haltingly, as if he was just being nice and had no interest whatsoever in seeing her.

“God, I don’t know,” she replied as she ran through a list of other fabricated options. “What time is it? Niles kept me up all night.”

“It’s almost seven.”

“I’m not running with you if that’s what you’re really asking,” West shot back as her heart forgot its rhythm.

“I’ve already done that,” Brazil said. “River City Diner? You been there?”

“I can’t remember the names of everything around here.”

“It’s really good. You mind picking me up since you get to take home a car and I don’t?”

“So I guess you know all the places around here,” West said.

Popeye would not give Hammer a moment’s peace this morning, either. She jumped all over Hammer. She brazenly ran into Hammer’s office and jumped into the desk chair and stared at the computer screen and the fish on it. She would not let Hammer sit and drink a first cup of coffee or glance at the paper. Popeye was stubborn on her walk. Treats were of no interest. She wouldn’t sit, lie down, come or stay.

“What good does it do for me to read all those books and consult with an animal behaviorist?” Hammer asked in exasperation. “I don’t need this, Popeye. I have tried reasoning with you. I’ve talked with you at great length about how important it is to cooperate and be a pleasure to have around. I’ve asked you many times if something traumatic might have happened to you before I got you from the SPCA, something that has caused you to start nipping at people and jumping in their faces.

“But whatever it is, you won’t let me know, and it’s not fair, Popeye. You know how much I care. You know my life is hard and I need no more stress. You know I will be sued if you bite someone and they fake emotional distress, disfigurement and sexual dysfunction because they know I have money and don’t need bad publicity. Now sit, and I mean it.”