Dog-Eared Delinquent

Chapter Six

Nan looked utterly beguiling in her getup for that evening. She’d even woven jade chopsticks through her hair in a fancy upswept hairstyle that complemented her angular bone structure quite nicely.

She often wore Asian-inspired garments, preferring their smooth, flowing lines to the more rigid structure of traditionally Western clothing. Between her style choices and my predilection for all things eighties, we really did make quite the pair.

I preferred eighties fashion simply because it was great fun. Nan, on the other hand, had done a brief tour abroad during the Vietnam War—not as a soldier, but rather an entertainer—and she’d fallen in love with everything about that part of the world. She’d managed to visit Japan, China, and Thailand over the years, too, and was greatly looking forward to the day when I’d finally agree to accompany her for an extended visit of all her favorite places. As for me, I wanted to get to know myself a little better before I ventured so far from home. Luckily, I was getting closer and closer to accomplishing just that with each passing day.

As loathe as I was to admit it aloud, Octo-Cat had made a huge difference in my life and had been a huge part of my recent self-discovery. I had a feeling I’d done the same for him as well. That was the thing about the people you loved— sometimes they made you crazy, but they would always be there for you in a pinch.

And this thing with Peter was the pinchiest situation we’d encountered yet. With the murders we’d investigated together, we at least knew what we were dealing with, what we were looking for. But with Peter? We now had questions on top of questions. As afraid as I was to discover where the answers may lead us, at least the three of us were firmly in this together.

Nan waited until Peter and I were seated at the table, then disappeared into the kitchen to plate up her sweet creations.

“Nice house,” Peter remarked, twiddling his thumbs in front of him. “How’d someone like you manage something like this?”

“It’s my house,” Octo-Cat announced, jumping up onto the table and plopping his rear right in front of Peter. “And I don’t think I want you in it.”

“Don’t mind him,” I said, pretending that everything was as normal as could be. “He’s just a bit suspicious of new visitors.”

“Nice kitty,” Peter said, reaching a hand toward the tabby.

“If you touch me, I bite you,” Octo-Cat informed him with a low growl.

Peter instantly recoiled. Was it because of the growl or the words that preceded it? Hmm.

“Good human,” Octo-Cat said in that condescending way I’d grown to love. “If you poke the tiger, you’re going to lose some fingers. That’s how the saying goes. Isn’t it?” He tilted his head to the side and flicked his tail, keeping his unblinking eyes on Peter the whole time.

Peter laughed nervously. “So, Angie, how long have you been working at—?”

“Don’t talk to her.” Octo-Cat hopped back onto his feet and stared Peter down with his ears folded back against his head. “Talk to me. Who are you, and why are you such a jerk? Huh, big guy? You think it’s nice to pick on my human?”

Peter leaned back as far as he could in his chair and looked toward me with large, pleading eyes. “Um, could we maybe put your cat somewhere while I’m here? I think I might be allergic.”

“More like afraid,” Octo-Cat said, then punctuated it with his signature evil laugh. I’d never seen Peter so shaken. Granted, I hadn’t known him very long, but still, it really did seem as if he could understand what my cat was saying to him.

“Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s harmless,” I said with a dismissive shrug.

Octo-Cat growled again. “Oh, she has no idea just how harmful I can be,” he told Peter with a low rumble.

“Who’s ready for some heavenly confections?” Nan sang as she floated back into the dining room with an artfully arranged silver serving platter, completely unaware of what Octo-Cat had been up to during her brief absence.

I widened my eyes as I moved them between Nan and the cat, trying to let her know that this was his show, but she didn’t seem to get the hint.

“Bon appetit!” she cried, setting the tray between Peter and me.

“This looks amazing.” Peter wasted no time in grabbing a rich puff pastry dessert and shoving it eagerly into his mouth.

“You want to know what’s really amazing?” Octo-Cat asked, keeping his eyes trained on Peter. “My jokes. Seriously, I dare you not to laugh.”

I selected a mini cheesecake bite for myself and smiled as I waited to see what would happen next. Octo-Cat’s jokes were generally pretty terrible, but Peter didn’t strike me as the type with a sophisticated sense of humor anyway.

“Okay, get this.” Octo-Cat sat again, coming right up to the edge of the table so that Peter had to scoot back to avoid touching him. “What do you call a dog with a brain? Anyone? Anyone?” He paused and looked around. “No, nobody knows. Okay, I’ll tell you—a cat!” He whooped and laughed hysterically while Peter attempted to make small talk with Nan.

I watched the whole thing in quiet fascination, smiling to myself as Peter struggled to maintain his composure. He certainly didn’t enjoy getting a taste of his own medicine, the poor baby.

Octo-Cat yawned. “That one didn’t get you. Hmm, okay. Well, I have lots more.” He waited for Peter to take another bite before asking, “What’s the difference between cat puke and a dog?”

Peter seemed to choke a little but recovered quickly.

“One’s a slimy pile of disgusting excrement, and the other’s cat puke. Ha!” Octo-Cat flopped over on his side and rubbed his back on the dining room table the same way he often did in the freshly cut grass outside. This was him luxuriating in the moment. He seemed to love taunting someone who deserved it.

I chuckled quietly, eliciting glances from both Nan and Peter.

“Everything okay, dear?” Nan asked, stopping the small talk she’d been making with Peter. I’d been so focused on the tabby’s antics, I didn’t even have the faintest idea what they’d been talking about.

“Yes,” I answered quickly. “I just think it’s funny how Octo-Cat invited himself along to the party. He seems to be really taken with you, Peter.”

“Yeah, well.” He cracked each of his knuckles and looked away.

“Tough crowd,” Octo-Cat spat, pacing the length of the table once more. “Good thing I saved the best for last. Okay, who here knows why dogs can’t tell jokes? No one? It’s because they lose their minds whenever someone says knock, knock!”

At this, Peter snorted and then, at last, broke out into a full-fledged laugh. Gotcha.

I jumped to my feet and pointed at him. “I knew it! I knew you could understand him!”

Peter blanched and fumbled the dessert he’d been holding. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Oh, can it, honey!” Nan shot in. “The jig is up.” I was pretty sure Nan didn’t know what we were talking about, but it felt nice to have another ally on my side. She stood, too, and together we glared at Peter.

“Who are you, and why are you here?” I demanded.

“You invited me,” he sputtered in equal parts confusion and irritation. “But if I’m not welcome anymore, I’ll just go.” He pushed his chair back and sped toward the door, but Octo-Cat leapt after him and sunk his claws into Peter’s shoulder, hanging on for dear life as the lanky man tried to fight him off.

“Ow, what the…?” Peter cried as he spun and shook, but still Octo-Cat refused to let go.

“Say you can hear me,” the cat hissed viciously. “Admit you understand.”

When Peter said nothing, Octo-Cat sunk his claws in even deeper. Telltale droplets of blood appeared on his neck and dampened his shirt.

“Ouch! Fine!” Peter shouted. “I understand you. Now let go.”

Octo-Cat hopped down and raced over to Nan, who’d taken a seat on our old Victorian couch while she watched this entire scene unfold. “Now that’s the spirit,” she told Peter. “And here I was afraid we’d have to tie you up before you’d willingly confess a thing.”

“What do you want from me?” he asked, wiping at his wounds with a defeated scowl.

I crossed the room and stood before him with my arms folded over my chest. “What do you want from me? You’re the one who started all this.”

“I thought you might be like me,” he explained in that whiny, nasally voice I’d come to hate over the last couple of days. “And, clearly, I was right.”

I shook my head, refusing to admit anything. “So, why taunt me?”

“Why not? I was just having a little bit of fun.”

“Need me to cut him again?” Octo-Cat asked, racing over to defend me.

Peter curled into himself defensively. “Please, no!”

“You need to tell me how you knew, and you need to do it now,” I yelled, towering over him now.

Peter’s voice came out muffled. “Or what? You’ll sic your cat on me again?”

I tilted my head and smiled at Octo-Cat who bounced at my side, ready for more action.

“Actually, that’s exactly what I’ll do,” I said, yanking Peter’s arms away so that he’d look me in the eye again. “Now, are you going to talk or what?”

Peter shook his head. “Not here.”

I nodded to Octo-Cat, and he took another step toward Peter. “You have the right to remain silent,” he said. “And I have the right to defend the indefensible.”

Indefensible? Ouch. I was pretty sure he was just quoting something he’d seen on his favorite TV show, Law & Order, but still.

“I’ll talk. I will!” Peter cried. “I promise I will. It’s just… it’s not safe here, okay?”

Oh, Peter. How quickly he’d transformed from villain to victim.

“If not here, then where?” I demanded.

“If not today, then when? If not me, then who?” Nan chimed in, but was ignored by both of us.

Peter shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a black business card printed with silver lettering. “This is the address. I’ll see you there Friday night. Around ten?”

“Fine,” I said, yanking the card from him even though he seemed willing to give it freely. “And until then?”

“Just act normal at work. Not a word, I mean it.” His eyes darkened for a moment, but he quickly shrugged it off. “So, if we understand each other, then I’m getting the heck out of here. Bye.”

I watched in silence as he charged out of the house and sped off into the night.

“Well, that was interesting,” Nan said after emitting a low whistle.

“Did you translate my jokes for her? They were some of my best yet,” Octo-Cat said with another chuckle.

I just shook my head and wondered what Friday night would bring. I’d never met someone else like me, and frankly, I hated that the first other of my kind had to be someone as vile as Peter Peters. But now I was one step closer to figuring out why I could talk to animals, and maybe if I learned more, I could use my abilities more effectively. I could talk to more animals. I could solve more crimes.

Could Peter really have the answers I’d been looking for all this time?

Well, I’d know soon enough.