Page 64 of The Bad Weather Friend

“Spike.”

“Mr. Spike, may I ask what your position is in relation to Mr. Catspaw?”

“No.”

“He’s my interior designer,” Benny said. “I have an inability to coordinate colors, so everything in my place pretty much ends up white, white, white. Except for whatever wine and food stains resist removal. I finally have to admit I have no talent for decor. I’ve made mistakes with women, too. In our relationship, Jill was a steak knife and I was a dessertspoon, just like Fat Bob said. Bob. Just like Bob said.”

Where is Harper Harper?

THE HOUR OF THE RABBIT

The second floor of Palazzo del Coniglio offered a bewildering number of rooms in three wings. Elegantly furnished guest rooms, each with its own bath. A model-train layout with what seemed like a mile of track winding through miniature villages, mountains, and valleys, through tunnels, across bridges. An arcade with twenty pinball machines.

She yanked open a door to a bed-sitting room, where a game show was underway on a TV. A fiftyish woman in a bathrobe and slippers startled up from her chair, ice rattling in a glass of whiskey that she held in her right hand. Judging by the fact this lodging was smaller and less well appointed than others, Harper deduced she was in the servants’ wing.

“Who’re you?” the woman asked.

“Your worst nightmare,” Harper said, and knew even as she said it that she sounded ridiculous.

“Honey, my worst nightmare isn’t dressed all in yellow with a pink baseball cap and a ponytail.”

“Don’t screw with me. Don’t you dare screw with me. I’m looking for Arabella. I’m taking her.”

“A kidnapper? Oh, this is sweet. This is delicious. He’ll pay a million. He’ll pay ten!”

“I’m not asking for ransom advice.” Harper decided to go total hard-boiled. “If you don’t want your throat cut,tell me where I can find Arabella!”

“Honey, you do know—Arabella is a rabbit.”

“Yes, I am aware. Large, white, furry, likes carrots.”

“She won’t be here with any of us in the servants’ wing.”

“Ah, hah! Servants’ wing,” Harper said, pleased that her powers of deduction were better than her ability to talk tough.

“Arabella will be with the beast,” the woman said.

“Beast? What beast?”

“Theron.”

“You call your boss a beast?”

“He’s a turd. We all think so.”

“Then why work for him?”

The woman winked. “Benefits.”

“Stealing him blind, huh?”

“Doing our best. My name’s Tanya.”

Harper gave her two thumbs up. “Listen, Tanya, the rabbit isn’t with him. She’s in his bedroom. Can you show me where his bedroom is? I didn’t mean that about cutting your throat. I wouldn’t cut anyone’s throat. I wouldn’t even know how. I’d make a mess of it.”

Tanya put down her glass of whiskey. “We’ve been told to stay in our rooms tonight. To hell with that. Come on, sister.”

The primary bedroom was slightly smaller than a six-car garage but not as plain. In addition to the usual furnishings, there were maybe a hundred plush-toy rabbits of various sizes, in a rainbow of colors.

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