♫Oh yes I'm the Great Pretender♫
♫Pretending is what I do well♫
♫My need is such♫
♫I pretend too much♫
♫I'm Lyle, but no one can tell!♫

♫Yes I'm the Great Pretender♫
♫Just laughing and gay like a hound♫
♫I seem to be what I'm not you see♫
♫I'm Lyle when no one's around!♫

I was right, you know.  It is hard to write bad fiction.  However, I suspect it is even harder to write good fiction.  I wouldn't know.

High Stakes

Chapter 4

    Miss Matches, delighted with our progress so far, headed out to the restaurant to begin her shift. Morgan and I looked over her notes for a few minutes, and I magnanimously ignored the poorly rendered drawings of me as I filled in some of the facts she missed during the questioning.
    I was hungry, and I decided to grab a meal with a dish of investigation on the side. I convinced Morgan to join me so we could pose as a couple, thereby attracting less attention and allowing me to surreptitiously check out the restaurant and its cast of characters.
    “Miss Matches was very clear that she wanted this investigation kept quiet,” Morgan said. “And now you’re heading to her restaurant not fifteen minutes after she’s hired you?”
    She of little faith. During one of my prior lifestyle incarnations, I briefly did a tour with a theater group. I was not terribly successful as an actor, but I did learn a bit about costume and disguise. I pulled out a box from a closet and began rummaging through for appropriate attire.
    “For you, madame,” I announced, and presented her with a hat and string of pearls. I pulled out a necktie and a pair of reading glasses for myself.
    “You have got to be kidding,” Morgan said, holding her pearls up in one paw and staring slack jawed at my tie.
    “You don’t like my tie?”
    “Listen, Clark Kent, this kind of disguise just doesn’t work in real life.”
    Sometimes I think I keep her on just for sheer entertainment value. I clucked my tongue sympathetically. Sometimes she just has to learn these lessons herself or she simply can’t seem to remember them. With a flourish, I produced the piece de resistance from the bottom of my box of disguises. I held it open proudly for my Doubting Morgan. She sniffed it dubiously.
    “It smells like a dog park,” she said.
    “Well, of course it does, when you smell it like that.” I pulled out an individual vial from the collection of bottles in the box and offered it to her for a sniff. She still looked doubtful, her eyes narrowing as she brought her nose to the open vial. Suddenly her eyebrows shot up and she looked at me with surprise and admiration.
    “Aha, now you see!” I laughed. I sprayed her ears and the base of her tail with the contents of the vial. “To every dog who meets you, you are now a Saluki. Now, now, no need to say it. I know. Pure unadulterated genius.” I smiled and carefully selected my own scent disguise. After anointing myself, I asked, “So, madame, shall we toddle off to tea?”
    Morgan had been overcome with a fit of sneezing while I was preparing my disguise. She wiped her eyes and blinked once or twice. “Please tell me you’re not…was that supposed to be an English accent?”
    “Old English Sheepdog. Do you like it? I believe I’ll be Simon and I’ll call you…oh, let’s say Paula. Do you think you can stay in character?”
    Paula, nee Morgan, donned her pearls and headed briskly for the door. A good start. I thought I heard her mutter something about losing her appetite, but perhaps she was simply trying to adopt the dainty eating habits of a Saluki.