The Mysteries of Max: Books 25-27

Excerpt from Purrfect Fool (The Mysteries of Max 28)

Chapter One

It could have been the perfect nap. The nap to end all naps. Unfortunately there was one thing that detracted from absolute perfection. Or I should probably say one bug: a big, fat fly kept buzzing around my head, making it impossible to enjoy the full benefit of my slumber.

I’d already given this fly the evil eye, but the darn thing didn’t seem to be all that quick on the uptake, and just kept at it. Giving it the cold shoulder didn’t help either, and so finally I saw no other recourse than to swat at the annoying thing, making my displeasure known not only in word but also in deed.

“Hey, cool your jets, bro!” said the fly, and buzzed off to rob some other pet of sleep.

And so I finally closed my eyes to pick up where I left off when something else intruded upon my much-yearned-for peace and quiet.

Gran came stalking in through the sliding glass door and slammed a newspaper down right next to me, then proceeded to take a seat—unbidden, I might add.

“Will you look at that!” she exclaimed, causing me to suppress a groan of annoyance and direct a casual glance at said newspaper.

“What is it?” I asked, not in the mood for reading an entire newspaper article and preferring to get the gist straight from the horse’s mouth—in this case my human’s gran.

“It’s that no-good son of mine,” the old lady announced, clearly not all that happy with whatever that son of hers had been up to this time. For those of you not in the know, Gran’s son is none other than Alec Lip, chief of police in our neck of the woods.

“What did he do?” I asked, more out of politeness and the faint but diminishing hope that this would speed up the process of getting Gran to take her leave and leave me to my hopes and dreams of that catnap I’d been looking so forward to.

“He says he’s going to get married! Married, if you please!”

I yawned. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not in the same year my granddaughter is tying the knot it isn’t!” said Gran. She poked a finger at the newspaper, causing it to crumple. “He’s stealing Odelia’s thunder, that’s what he’s doing! How dare he!”

“So maybe you can organize a double wedding? Would save you time and money.”

“A double wedding!” Gran cried, clearly aghast at the prospect. “Never in my life will I attend this wedding. Never, you hear me!”

“I hear you,” I said, wincing a little, for Gran was even more voluble than usual.

Dooley, who’d been attracted by all the hullabaloo, came prancing over from the pantry, where he’d done his business in his litter box. I could tell he’d done number two, for he had that distinct spring in his step and that merry gleam in his eye he gets when successfully managing to exorcise the product of his mastication and digestion process.

“What’s going on?” he asked when he saw Gran’s unhappy face. “Did someone die?”

“No, but someone soon will,” said Gran with a dark frown at the newspaper.

“Oh, no!” said Dooley, his face falling. “I didn’t even know you were sick, Gran. Is it cancer? Or old age?”

Gran gave my best friend a withering look that would have made a more discerning cat wince. “I’m not dying. And for your information, I’m not old. It’s my son.”

“Oh, no! Does Uncle Alec have cancer?”

“Nobody has cancer!” she cried. “He’s getting married!”

Dooley gave me a look of confusion. Usually when humans get married it’s cause for cheer, the prospect of a party making everyone happy. But Gran seemed to liken the occasion to a funeral, which was a novel way of looking at the sacred institution.

“Oh, I get it,” said Dooley. “Uncle Alec is sick and dying and he wants to get married before he dies.” He shook his head sadly. “I liked Uncle Alec. I’ll be sad when he’s gone.”

“Please talk some sense into your friend, Max,” said Gran. “I don’t have the patience.”

“Uncle Alec isn’t dying, Dooley,” I explained. “He’s getting married, and Gran isn’t happy about it.”

“But why?” asked Dooley, an understandable question. But then his face cleared. “Oh, I know! Charlene is pregnant! And Uncle Alec doesn’t want her to have the baby out of wedlock. Just like in that Lifetime movie we saw last week, when Derek the company boss had to marry his secretary Francine when she announced she was pregnant, only she wasn’t pregnant, and only said she was so he would marry her. And then when he found out she wasn’t pregnant after all, he immediately had the wedding annulled.”

Gran gave Dooley a pointed look. “You know, Dooley, that’s something that hadn’t occurred to me. But you’re right. It’s the only possible explanation. Charlene must be expecting a baby. Why else would they suddenly announce their wedding plans?”

“Or it could be that Charlene is dying of cancer,” Dooley suggested. “And Uncle Alec wants her to die as his wife.”

The prospect of her son’s betrothed dying a slow and painful death seemed to please Gran, but then she shook her head. “Nah. He would have told me if she was sick.” She shrugged. “Which means I’m going to be a grandma soon.”

“But… aren’t you a grandma already, Gran?” asked Dooley.

“I hope it’s a boy,” said Gran, ignoring Dooley. “Or twins. A boy and a girl, maybe.”

Dooley gave me a look of supreme worry. For some reason he has this idea that if a newborn enters our family, they’ll get rid of all the cats. And no matter how many times I’ve assured him this is simply not the case, he keeps coming back to the horrifying notion.

“Anyway,” said Gran, getting up and grabbing her newspaper. “Just thought I’d let you know. I can’t tell the rest of the family how I feel about this wedding nonsense, so I hope you’ll keep your mouths shut. Not a word to Alec, you hear? Or the others, for that matter.”

“My lips are sealed, Gran,” I said.

“Your lips look fine to me, Max,” said Dooley, studying my lips intently.

“It’s just an expression, Dooley,” I said. “It means I won’t tell anyone what Gran just told us.”

“That goes for you, too, Dooley,” said Gran. “If word gets out that the groom’s mom opposes the wedding, there will be hell to pay.”

And with these words, she stomped off again, her face a thundercloud.

Somehow I had the feeling it wouldn’t be long before the entire town of Hampton Cove would know exactly how Gran felt about the wedding. We might be able to keep our mouths shut, but would Gran?

Chapter Two

“So… let me get this straight,” said Dooley. “Uncle Alec is getting married to his girlfriend because she’s dying? Or because he’s dying? Or because she’s pregnant?”

“I have no idea, Dooley,” I said, still holding out a faint hope to have that nap.

“Or maybe Charlene is dying and she’s pregnant!” His furry face fell. “I hope she’ll be able to deliver the baby before she dies, Max.”

“I’m sure that Uncle Alec and Charlene are simply getting married because they love each other,” I said. “And that there is no pregnancy and that no one is dying.”

“Or it could be that Uncle Alec is pregnant,” said Dooley, my reassurances landing on deaf ears as usual. “He looks like he’s pregnant, with that very big belly of his.”

“Uncle Alec is pregnant?!” suddenly a cry sounded from the kitchen. I looked up and saw that Harriet and Brutus had arrived, the other two cats that make up our household.

Brutus is a butch black cat, and also Harriet’s boyfriend, who’s a white Persian. They both looked flabbergasted by this piece of news.

“Uncle Alec can’t be pregnant,” I said with a laugh. “Men don’t get pregnant, you guys.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Max,” said Brutus. “Nowadays everybody can get pregnant.”

“He’s right,” said Dooley. “I saw a documentary on the Discovery Channel the other night about a man who delivered a healthy baby boy.”

“So let me get this straight,” said Harriet. “Uncle Alec is pregnant… with a boy?”

I heaved a deep sigh. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get any naptime anytime soon with this lot launching into a discussion on my human’s uncle being pregnant.

“As I understand it now,” said Dooley, “Uncle Alec is pregnant, and his future wife Charlene is also pregnant, and dying, which is why they’re tying the knot in a hurry.”

Harriet’s eye went a little wider. “Uncle Alec and Charlene are getting married?”

“Yeah, looks like it,” I said. At least that part of the story was undoubtedly true.

“But… he can’t get married!” said Harriet. “Odelia and Chase are getting married. Uncle Alec can’t steal her thunder—it’s just not fair!”

“Exactly what Gran said,” I agreed, nodding. I watched that fat fly flit hither and thither, and was already yearning for the good old days when it had been just me and it.

“We have to do something about this, you guys!” said Harriet, getting all worked up now. “We can’t let this wedding take place!”

“It has to take place,” said Dooley. “Because Charlene and Uncle Alec are both dying, and they’re both pregnant, too, so they have to get married before it’s too late.”

“Dooley!” said Harriet. “Are you serious?!”

I felt it was time to intervene before things got completely out of hand. “Look, the only thing we know for sure is that a wedding has been announced and will be taking place between Uncle Alec and Charlene,” I said. “The rest is just idle speculation.”

“But—” said Dooley.

“Idle speculation,” I repeated emphatically.

As I’d expected, my words acted like oil on the raging waters of Harriet’s indignation and Dooley’s rampant imagination, and for a few moments a pleasant silence reigned.

Then Dooley said, “Maybe Odelia is pregnant, too, and very soon she’ll kick us all out, because everybody knows that cats and babies don’t mix, so there’s that to consider.”

“Oh, Dooley,” I said, and that big fly, which had taken advantage of me being distracted by landing on the tip of my nose, said, “If you want, I can go and find out for you, cat.”

And I said, “Wait, what?”

The fly shrugged and said, “Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘Fly on the wall’ before? Well, I can be that fly for you, cat.”

So I said, “Sure. Why not?”

Anything to get rid of this fly. Now if only I could get rid of my housemates, but somehow I had a feeling this wasn’t in the cards.

Chapter Three

The life of a fly is often a pretty lonely life—and a short one, too. So Norm, as he buzzed off on his mission, was actually happy with this change of scenery. His brethren and sistren might content themselves by eating dirt, but Norm was that rare fly who had, from the moment he was born, entertained higher aspirations. He’d always envisioned himself as that rare breed of fly: the adventurous type. And overhearing those cats speculating about their humans, Norm had smelled an opportunity and grabbed it.

So first he buzzed off in the direction of the house next door, where that old woman had disappeared to, and decided to pick up some little tidbits of raw intelligence there, just like James Bond would, if James Bond was about half an inch in diameter and consisted of an exceedingly hairy body, six hairy legs, two compound eyes and some extra-sensitive antennae. Though in all honesty all that Norm had in common with James Bond was a hairy chest and that can-do attitude your average British spy has in spades.

And he was in luck, as Grandma Muffin had just grabbed her purse and was on her way out the door, so he simply followed in her wake, hoping it would lead to something.

He landed on top of her head, before being rudely swatted away—the life of a fly consists mainly of being swatted away—and ducked into her car just as she did.

“Stupid fly,” Grandma Muffin muttered as she gave Norm one of her trademark dark looks, then started up the engine, and floored the accelerator, causing the car to lurch away from the curb at a much higher rate of speed than traffic cops like to see.

Moments later, it seemed, they were already cruising through downtown Hampton Cove, and when the older lady steered her car into an underground parking garage, Norm was buzzing with anticipatory glee. Looked like he was in for a real treat!

Maybe a meeting with some Deep Throat type informant? A showdown in the bowels of what looked like a boutique hotel? He didn’t know what would follow, but had a feeling it was going to be good. So it was with a slight sense of disappointment that he watched Grandma Muffin simply park her car, get out and slam the door then walk off.

They took the elevator up to the hotel lobby, and once again Norm’s hopes soared: a secret meeting in one of the hotel rooms with a foreign spy? A dead drop in one of the hotel’s garbage bins of some secret documents? So when the old lady Max called ‘Gran’ met up with a gorgeous redhead with plunging décolletage in the hotel lobby, and the both of them walked into the dining area, he knew this was it. The redhead was probably a Russian spy, here to hand over the secrets to the Russian rocket program, or maybe even spike Grandma’s drink with a little-known nerve agent or truth serum!

So when both women took a seat in the outside dining area and ordered drinks from a suspicious-looking waiter— a Korean spy? A Chinese double agent?—he was on the lookout for the little vial containing the deadly nerve agent, and ready to warn Gran!

“We gotta do something, Scarlett,” said Gran. “We have got to stop this wedding.”

“But why?” said the woman named Scarlett, tossing her red curls across her shoulders. She was dressed in a provocatively cleavaged red dress and red high heels, her lips a very bright Scarlett and looking every bit the sexy Russian secret agent.

“Why? Are you kidding me? They’re going to ruin Odelia’s wedding!”

“I think it’s pretty cute. And you can always make it a double wedding,” said Scarlett, taking a sip from her drink—a flat white, if Norm had followed the proceedings closely. So far no little vials with deadly nerve agents were in evidence but that could happen any moment now.

“Trust me on this, Scarlett. Alec wouldn’t be getting married if he wasn’t being coerced—if Charlene wasn’t putting a knife to his throat.” She slapped the table, causing her own drink—hot cocoa with plenty of cream, from the looks of it—to dance up and down. “That woman’s got something on my son and I want to know what it is.”

“Isn’t it possible that they simply love each other and want to celebrate that love by tying the knot?” asked Scarlett, who was clearly a romantically inclined Russian spy.

“Oh, Scarlett, Scarlett,” said Gran. “I see she’s gotten to you, too.”

“Nobody’s ‘gotten’ to me, Vesta. I just think they make a damn fine couple, and I wish them all the future happiness in the world, and frankly I think you should, too.”

“He’s too old to get married!”

“He’s only, what, fifty-something?”

“I’m telling you Alec would never get married if he wasn’t being hoodwinked. And I want to know what that woman is holding over him.”

Scarlett shrugged. “Can only be one thing.”

Vesta gave her a scathing look. “You’ve got a one-track mind, Scarlett.”

“What? I’m telling you—in my experience there’s only one thing that would make a man want to propose marriage to a woman and that’s—”

“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it.”

“Sex! What else?”

“I’m the man’s mother, Scarlett!”

“So? There are certain realities you just have to face, Vesta. Charlene is an attractive woman, and I’m sure she’s got assets that would make any man happy to explore them.”

Gran buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God.”

“It’s human nature!”

“Just because you’re obsessed with sex doesn’t mean we all are.”

“Just saying,” said Scarlett with a shrug.

Norm was losing his patience. So far nothing was happening that would make James Bond bother to get out of bed in the morning, and he was starting to wonder if Max had sent him on a fool’s errand. He wouldn’t put it past the cat to try and get rid of him.

“Look, I want to find out what Charlene’s got on my son, and then I want to stop that wedding from happening. Are you with me or not, that’s all I need to know right now.”

“Well…” said Scarlett, wavering.

“It’s going to break my granddaughter’s heart, Scarlett! And I happen to love my granddaughter—more than anything in the world!”

“Aww,” said Scarlett, regarding her friend with interest.

“What’s the look for?”

“So you do have a heart.”

“Of course I have a heart!” She then wagged a finger in her friend’s face. “But don’t you go and blab about it. It would ruin my reputation.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll help you. What do you want me to do?”

“First we need to find out Charlene’s secret.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“Easy. We spy on her.”

“What do you mean?”

“We bug her phone, her house, her office, we put a tracker on her car…”

“Isn’t that, like, extremely illegal?”

“Who cares? I’m trying to protect my family here, Scarlett!”

“Fine! But aren’t you forgetting one thing?”

“What?”

“We’re not exactly professional spies, you and me. So how do you propose we pull this off?”

Grandma Muffin smiled. “Leave that to me. I’ve got it all figured out.”

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly the high-profile spy bonanza Norm had anticipated, but he still felt, as he started the long flight back to Harrington Street to report to Max, that he’d gleaned some interesting intelligence. And he was starting to see that he’d landed himself in exactly the kind of spy story Mr. Bond would have appreciated.

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