Purrfect Crime

Chapter 27

Odelia had dropped by the house, announcing that we weren’t out of the woods yet. The case, which we’d assumed closed, was still wide open, Zelda Yoke not the cunning killer we’d pegged her as. Bummer. Harriet, returning from her power walk with Brutus, was ecstatic, though.

“I knew it!” she yelled. “I just knew it! No way Max and Dooley caught the killer.”

“Why is it so hard to believe we would catch the killer?” I asked, feeling a little offended.

“Because you’re boys,” said Harriet with amazing lack of logic and reason. “Come on, Brutus. We’re leaving.”

“But we just got here!” the big, black cat cried. He was lying spread-eagle on the floor, trying to catch his breath.

“And now we’re leaving. We have a killer to catch and no time to waste!”

And just when I thought she was going to hit the street and pound the pavement, just like any old-fashioned detective, she hopped up on Odelia’s computer table and fired up the computer. With a grunt of despair, Brutus hauled himself up from the floor and shuffled after his ladylove. Glancing over his shoulder, he muttered, “Never get married, fellas. Don’t do it.” And then he joined Harriet at the computer, ready for another few hours of surfing the web.

Odelia, who’d taken a shower and looked more human when she returned downstairs, said, “Are you guys coming?”

“Nah-uh,” said Harriet without looking up from her no doubt strenuous activity. “We’re busy trying to find the killer, Odelia. Isn’t that right, sugar-pop?”

“Whatever you say, snuggle-cup,” said Brutus, having trouble keeping his eyes open.

Odelia stared at the twosome, and for a moment I thought she was going to say something, but then she seemed to think better of it. She turned to us. “What about you guys? Are you coming?”

“Yes, please,” I said. Anything to get away from Harriet, who was in a particularly annoying mood today.

We rode in Odelia’s pickup to the office, where she dropped us off. “Don’t wander off too far,” she warned as she locked the car. “And remember about your diet, Max. Don’t fall off the wagon.”

“I won’t,” I promised her. We watched her disappear into the offices of the Hampton Cove Gazette and then set foot down the street.

“So where are we going?” asked Dooley.

“Why don’t we pay a visit to Kingman?” I suggested. “We haven’t seen that cat in a while.”

Kingman is Wilbur Vickery’s piebald. Wilbur runs the General Store and sells pretty much everything the grown cat needs—and the grown human, for that matter. Dooley must have seen right through me, for he said, “We’re just gathering information, right? Not food?”

“Of course! How can you even think about food at a time like this? We have a killer to catch, Dooley, and if we’re ever going to beat Harriet at her own game, we need to move fast.”

“You don’t really think Harriet is ever going to catch the killer by spending time on that computer, do you?”

“I think chances of that happening are slim to none.”

We padded over to the Vickery General Store, and found Kingman, perched on the counter, keeping his human company as usual. When he saw us waddling up, he gave us a cheerful salute. “Hey there, fellas. Long time no see. What’s happening in your neck of the woods?”

“Oh, nothing special,” I said, trying to come across as cool and laidback as Kingman himself.

“Max is on a diet,” said Dooley, “and he’s not allowed to eat anything other than diet food. So if you were thinking of feeding him some special snack, think again, because if he doesn’t stop being morbidly obese he’s going to die soon and break Odelia’s heart and I’ll lose my best friend and I don’t think I can take that.” He choked up and both Kingman and I looked at the ragamuffin in surprise.

“Dooley,” I said. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about this dieting thing.”

“I didn’t know either,” he said in a strangled voice. “Not until Harriet said all that stuff about you dying and all. I don’t want you to die, Max. I don’t want to lose my best friend in all the world.”

“I’m not going to die, buddy. I’m as fit as a horse.”

“You’re the size of a horse,” said Kingman. “Dooley is right. You are too fat for your own good.”

I directed a scathing look at him. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not fat! I have big bones. It runs in the family.”

“You can fool yourself but you can’t fool me,” said Kingman. “You look just about one sausage away from a massive coronary.”

God. If there’s one thing I hate it’s a cat that has no filter, and Kingman is just such a cat. “All right, all right,” I said. “I’ll lose weight. I’ll slim down until I’m as slim as you.”

“Not as easy as it looks,” said Kingman. “My body is my temple. I treat it with respect.”

“Treat your body with respect, Max,” Dooley urged. “If not for yourself, do it for me.”

“I already told you I would do the diet thing,” I said. “And my word is my bond.”

Dooley seemed pleased by this, giving me encouraging pats on the back. “I’m so glad you’re finally seeing the light, Max. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without you.”

Ugh. All this sentimentality was seriously getting on my nerves. And then I caught sight of a nice piece of steak that was lying on the floor where someone had dropped it. I looked left. I looked right. Nobody had spotted it. And even without any instigation from me, my paws starting plotting a course to the piece of red steak. I could already feel the texture in my mouth—taste it on my tongue—imagine it sliding down my throat. And I was about to pounce on the delicious morsel when suddenly Dooley entered my field of vision and said, “No, Max. You promised.”

“But it’s red meat! Red meat is good for me!”

“It’s fattening. The last thing you need right now is to fatten up even more.”

“I won’t fatten up,” I told him. “I promise!”

“Eat this and I won’t be your friend anymore,” Dooley said with uncharacteristic severity.

“Huh?”

“I’m not going to stand idly by and watch you eat yourself to death, Max.”

“Well, you don’t have to. You just have to watch me eat that tasty bit of steak.” And I made a move to snap it up, only to be forestalled by Dooley once again.

“Choose, Max. Me or that steak.”

Phew. Tough choice. Still, instinct is instinct, and red meat is red meat, and I would have gobbled the bit of steak if I suddenly hadn’t caught sight of a familiar figure.

“Hey, isn’t that Donna’s CEO Hillary Davies?”

“I’m not going to fall for that, Max. You’re just trying to distract me.”

“No, but it really is. Look, she just ran into Donna’s ex-husband.”

“You’ll have to do better than that. You know me, Max. Nothing gets past me.”

“Oh, and those must be Donna’s kids. Sweetums and Honeychild. Look how Hillary is smiling so sweetly at those kids. It’s obvious she’s crazy about them.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Dooley said, and grabbed the bit of steak between his teeth and devoured it in one go. He swallowed, then turned to where I was looking.

I stared at him, aghast. “Did you just eat my piece of steak?”

“It wasn’t your piece of steak.”

“But you just told me it was fattening.”

He lifted his chin. “I’m your friend, Max. If I have to sacrifice myself for your sake, I will gladly do so.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Eating a perfectly delicious and juicy bit of steak doesn’t sound like much of a sacrifice to me.”

“A friend’s gotta do what a friend’s gotta do.”

And then we both watched as Hillary Davies picked up Sweetums and Honeychild, who turned out to be two adorable apple-cheeked little boys, and hugged them close. Tad Rip watched on with a smile on his face. It was the scene of perfect familial bliss, if not for the fact that it should have been Donna and not her CEO hugging those kids.

“We have to find the killer, Max,” said Dooley, obviously sharing my sentiments.

“Yes, we do,” I said, and never had I been more resolved to put my best paw forward. Watching Dooley swallow down that tasty sliver of steak I had marked for my own might have had something to do with it as well. I was pretty sure that if we caught the killer, Odelia would be more than happy to buy me not just a tiny piece of steak but a complete slice!