Legal Seagull

Chapter One

It all started with a coffee maker that should have been tossed into the dumpster years ago. One fated zap from that thing, and I reawakened with the strange ability to speak with animals.

Ever since then, my life has been full of four-legged chatter. You’d think being able to understand animals would mean that I’d know more about the world around me, but instead I find myself knowing less and less as I’m tossed into one mystery after the other.

I guess that’s why I set up shop as a private investigator…

Oh, hi. My name’s Angie Russo, and I’d be remiss not to mention that my partner in solving crime is none other than my tabby cat, Octavius Maxwell Ricardo Edmund Frederick Fulton Russo, Esq, P.I. And much to his chagrin, I’ve taken to calling him Octo-Cat for short.

When Octo-Cat entered my life, he brought the first of many mysteries and a giant trust fund from his previous owner, for which I am now the guarantor. It pays our monthly bills and then some—including the giant Blueberry Bay manor house that he tricked me into buying. It’s a good thing his previous owner hooked us up because we’ve earned exactly zero dollars for our investigative efforts to date.

My grandmother, Nan, lives with us and uses her retirement funds to pitch in, even though I tell her not to. She keeps our kitchen stocked with fresh baked goods and our walls decorated with all kinds of quirky homemade art projects—yeah, she’s worked in everything from metal to hand-spun silk. She’s a bit of a character, but we can always count on Nan to keep things interesting for us all.

Another roommate of ours is Paisley, the mostly black tri-color Chihuahua Nan rescued from the shelter last year. Paisley is an unfailing optimist and eternal source of joy. She makes a strong contrast to our backyard neighbor, Pringle the unrelentingly irritating and frequently villainous raccoon.

You probably won’t believe me, but everything I’m about to tell you is true about Pringle. He has two treehouses with two big-screen TVs. He also has zero regard for anyone’s privacy, especially mine. I’ve recently caught him snooping on my phone and even recording a video of me for submission to his favorite reality show. Ugh, I know. Here’s hoping I don’t get selected for that particular unwanted privilege.

My parents work in news, and my boyfriend Charles is the senior partner at the law firm where I used to work before giving up the glamorous paralegal life to become a full-time P.I… Or if you were to ask Pringle, “full-time unemployed.”

I realize the raccoon must seem like an all-around horrible neighbor based on my descriptions so far, but in truth, I just think he’s cranky. After all, he’s the only one around here who hasn’t found love.

That’s right.

Nan is now seeing the local jeweler, Grant Gable, and they are just adorable together. Meanwhile I’ve got Charles, and my parents have each other. Even Octo-Cat maintains a very serious long-distance relationship with minor Instagram influencer and former show cat Grizabella the gorgeous Himalayan.

True, Paisley is without any romantic attachment, but that doesn’t bother the spritely pup one bit. Mostly because things rarely ever do.

Even though Pringle won’t admit to being lovelorn, he has taken to calling his Nerf gun “Carla” and stroking it lovingly whenever he thinks no one is looking.

Things have gotten so out of hand with that Nerf gun of his that I’ve now inadvertently agreed to let my cat wield nunchucks to protect himself—and, in theory, me. This has only led to more slapstick violence and a fair number of bruised shins on my part.

He’s really not good with them.

Probably because he has to keep one part in his mouth while swinging the other as he stands on his hind legs and awkwardly twists his neck to the side. I think he’s actually hurt himself more than he’s managed to get me and Pringle.

I also don’t think either of them needs a weapon to navigate our daily suburban life, but maybe that’s just me.

Thankfully, I’ll be getting a break from trigger-happy Pringle this week as I take Octo-Cat on a cross-country road trip to visit his beloved Grizabella in Colorado. Yes, it’s a long drive from Maine, but Nan is coming along to share it with me, seeing as Octo-Cat still refuses to get on a plane.

Also, the last time we took a train, we wound up with a murder on our hands, so driving just felt like a better way to go this time around.

We’re leaving bright and early the day after tomorrow, and as much as I initially didn’t want to take this trip, I’m looking forward to the reprieve from everyday life.

Let’s just hope nothing too crazy happens before then…

Famous last words. Am I right?

I’d just settled into my favorite window seat with a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and my eReader in the other when Octo-Cat came sauntering into the room, a single sheet of lined paper hanging from his mouth.

“Eeeh muh et,” he mumbled in my direction, his tail already flicking wildly even though I’d not yet done anything to disappoint him.

“Whatever it is, can it wait until later?” I asked. Unfortunately, I already knew what his answer would be.

He spat the paper onto the floor and glared at me with those unsettling amber eyes of his. “No. It can’t wait. We’re almost out of time as it is. Pick that up,” he commanded with a sneer.

I set my eReader down on the bench seat and walked my coffee over to my desk, then returned to grab the paper my cat had presented to me so unceremoniously.

Octo-Cat plopped onto his butt and watched with obvious disdain, but that was life with a cat for you. “That’s my list of necessities.”

I turned the paper over in my hands, then shook my head. “But it’s blank.”

“You better get writing then,” Octo-Cat said with a triple flick of his tail before launching into his long-winded soliloquy. “First I’ll need my bowties, both green and blue. I also need a new one that’s gold to match my eyes.”

“But your eyes aren’t—”

“Are you writing this down?” he snapped with a scowl that brooked no further argument.

Right.

I raced to my desk as he continued to rattle off his demands. With a red ink pen now in hand, I scrawled furiously but just couldn’t keep up. “A copy of Dr. Roman’s Guide to… um… Could you repeat that, please?”

My cat groaned, proving I’d disappointed him yet again. “Dr. Roman’s Guide to Romance. In audio. Pay attention.”

Ten minutes later, Octo-Cat had finally finished dictating his list. It filled both sides of the paper he’d brought me, and I’d even had to resort to scribbling the last few items on the back of my hand.

Well, it looked like I had my work cut out for me—and my day stolen from me.

“Are you sure you need all of this for our trip?” I asked in disbelief. “Some of this isn’t exactly easy to find.”

Octo-Cat nodded pertly. “I’m sure.”

“But—”

“I’ll be in my room if you need me.” He turned tail and sauntered away.

Remind me again why I was doing this huge nice thing for him when he couldn’t even bother to be the tiniest bit grateful?

It was like the more time I spent with my cat, the less I actually understood him. Maybe this road trip wouldn’t be so relaxing, after all.