Purrfect Revenge

Chapter 5

We’d been sneaking all over the house but so far not a sign of a feline inhabitant. The only animal we’d met was some horrible dog who couldn’t keep his trap shut. Just our luck: a murder had taken place and the only animal in the house was a stupid French Bulldog. I should have known going in that a family as peripatetic as the Kenspeckles would prefer canines to felines. And I was just about to give up when I caught sight of a rust-colored, scrawny cat, casually licking her paws while seated on a pool lounge chair.

Clarice, Hampton Cove’s resident feral menace, looked right at home.

“Look, you guys,” I said. “It’s Clarice.”

“Not again,” Dooley cried, quickly covering his nose.

The last time we met Clarice, Dooley’s nose had suffered because of the blood oath Clarice had made us swear in exchange of some information.

“Oh, no,” said Brutus, for once agreeing with Dooley. “I’m not going anywhere near that monster.”

“She’s actually very nice once you get to know her,” I told him.

That wasn’t exactly true. Clarice wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Quentin Tarantino movie. But for once I had Brutus at a disadvantage.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Harriet. “Last time Brutus got hurt.”

“Last time Brutus fainted like a kitten,” Dooley muttered.

“I didn’t faint,” Brutus countered vehemently. “I… I simply pretended to faint. I was trying to create a diversion so you could escape with your lives.”

“Oh, that was so brave of you, Brutus,” Harriet gushed.

“Looked to me like you fainted at the sight of blood,” I said.

“Puh-lease,” he scoffed. “Me? Fainting at the sight of blood? As if!”

“Look, Clarice is perfectly harmless,” I said. “She’s just… eccentric.”

“Lady Gaga is eccentric, that cat is just… wacko,” Dooley said.

“Wacko or not, we need her,” I said, and stalked off in her direction.

I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing, but if we were going to find out who killed Shana, we could leave no stone unturned, even the wacko ones.

“Hey there, Clarice,” I said as pleasantly as I could.

She gave me a cursory glance, but kept on licking her paw.

“What a great day, huh?” I said nervously. “Sun is shining, sky’s blue…”

Still no response. I took a hesitant seat at the foot of the lounger. Clarice is a fount of information. She doesn’t owe allegiance to anyone and roams Hampton Cove day and night, looking for food. She’s familiar with every nook and cranny, and knows where all the bodies are buried since she’s the one who buried them. Critter bodies, that is. She doesn’t kill humans. I think.

“We, um, we’re trying to figure out who killed Shana Kenspeckle,” I continued. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen something, would you?”

The others had joined us, but were keeping a safe distance. Dooley was still covering his nose, just to make sure Clarice didn’t slice and dice it again. But Clarice simply ignored us, and kept on grooming herself. The pool was right next to the lounger, and the sun was reflected off the crystal clear water. It also reflected off Clarice’s claw and I gulped when I saw she was watching me intently. I was suddenly reminded of Azrael, the Smurfs’ mortal enemy.

I quickly looked away, and saw that the house was still a beehive of activity, with cops everywhere, doing whatever it was they were doing. Odelia was chatting with one of the Kenspeckle sisters, who was holding that nasty little mutt in her arms. For once the dog wasn’t yapping furiously.

“That dog should be put down,” Clarice suddenly said.

I was glad she finally spoke. I was even gladder it wasn't me she wanted to be put down. "I couldn't agree more. That dog is completely useless."

“He’s been barking up a storm all morning, annoying the heck out of me.”

“That’s what he does. Yap, yap, yap. That dog has no off switch.”

Great. We were bonding over our shared dislike of the canine species.

“That masked killer should have taken his head instead of the woman’s.”

I stared at her. “You saw the killer?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m helping Odelia solve the murder.”

She shook her flea-bitten, patchy head. “You don’t get it, do you? When are you going to stop betraying your own species, Max? When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that humans are not your friends?”

“Odelia isn’t like other humans. She takes care of us.”

“Odelia loves us,” said Dooley, overcoming his fear.

Clarice made a loud hissing sound, baring her teeth, and Dooley yelped and almost toppled into the pool. “Humans can’t be trusted,” she said. “They’re mean and vicious. They chop each other’s heads off!”

“You chop off the heads of mice and rats,” Harriet countered.

“That’s different. I would never hurt my own species.” Her eyes narrowed into thin slits. “Though I might be tempted to make an exception for you.”

Harriet gulped. Brutus, now that his mate was under attack, decided to step up. “Now look here, you… you cat. That is no way to talk to my girl.”

“Girl!” Clarice emitted a series of low grunts that I figured was her way of laughing. “Cats don’t have girlfriends! We don’t mate for life!”

“Well, some of us do,” Brutus said, winking at Harriet, who giggled.

“Well, then you happen to be an even bigger moron than I thought.”

Brutus puffed out his chest. “Hey. Who are you calling a moron?!”

“You,” she said. “You’ve lived with humans so long you’ve become one.”

I had the sinking feeling this conversation was getting away from me. “Look, all we want is to solve this murder,” I told her. “Is that so bad?”

“Yes, it is. By helping humans solve their murders you’re perpetuating the species. As far as I’m concerned, the more they murder each other the better. Soon there won’t be any humans left and this world will be ours again.”

“Good luck with that,” Dooley muttered.

I cleared my throat. “Be that as it may,” I said, “I still would like to know who killed Shana Kenspeckle. It would mean a great deal to me personally.”

“Why?”

“Um, because I’m a great fan of the Kenspeckles?”

“Of course you are. You’re a disgrace to the feline species, Max. You and your friends. You have sold your soul for a can of cat food and a pat on the head. It’s disgusting.” She hopped from the sun lounger and stalked off.

“Wait!” I cried. “What about a big, juicy piece of raw meat?!”

She halted in her tracks and looked back. “What about it?”

“I, um, I’ve got one that has your name on it.” No, I didn’t.

She licked her lips and I could see she was torn between her reluctance to help us out and her desire for a nice piece of raw meat. “Tell me more.”

I darted a pleading look at Brutus and he rolled his eyes. He knew just as well as me that I didn’t have any meat to offer. “Chicken wings,” he said reluctantly. “You can have one of my chicken wings.”

“Go on.”

He darted a dirty look at me. “And I’ll throw in a couple chicken necks.”

She stalked back to us. “Keep talking, fat boy.”

Brutus growled something at the back of his throat. I gave him a poke.

“Chicken liver,” he said. “Chase knows how much I like chicken liver.”

“I’m starting to like you more and more, fatso. Don’t stop.”

He was shaking his head now, giving me a death stare.

“Just think how happy Chase will be when I solve this murder,” I said.

“You solve this murder? I solve this murder,” he growled. He cut his eyes to Clarice. “Raw, blood-red steak. Straight from the best butcher in town.”

Clarice’s upper lip curled up into a feral snarl. “You’re now officially my new best friend. And where can I find all this good stuff?”

Brutus gave Clarice his address, which was actually Uncle Alec’s address, since Chase was still living with him. It was taking him some time to find a place of his own in town. Not that he minded. Chief Alec was a widower, so the men had the house to themselves and were reliving their bachelor days.

“You never told us you ate steak,” I told Brutus.

“Why would I share my steak with you, Max?” Brutus asked. “It’s not exactly as if you rolled out the welcome mat when I arrived in town.”

Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes. “That’s because you’ve been trying to take over this town from day one.”

He shrugged. “Just sharing my worldly wisdom with you local yokels.”

“Brutus has offered me some of his meat,” said Harriet. “It’s delish.”

“Of course it is,” Dooley murmured, directing a pleading look at the sky.

“So do you want to know about this murder or not?” asked Clarice.

“Yes, we do,” I said.

“I saw the murder,” said Clarice. “I saw the whole thing.”

“And?” Harriet asked excitedly. “Who did it?”

“No idea. The killer was covered in a long black robe.”

“Like Severus Snape?” asked Dooley, who was a big Harry Potter fan.

Clarice blinked. “I have no idea who that is. All I know is that I couldn’t see the killer’s face, as he or she was wearing a black mask of some kind.”

“Probably so they wouldn’t get blood all over them,” said Brutus. When we stared at him, he added, “What? Cutting off a head is a bloody business.”

I didn’t want to know how he knew. He, Uncle Alec and Chase probably watched too many horror movies. Or football games. They can get bloody.

“It was pretty gruesome,” Clarice said, which surprised me. A lot.

"Oh, I can imagine," said Harriet commiseratingly. "Just tell us everything, Clarice. You'll feel so much better. It'll be like therapy."

Clarice gave Harriet her best glare, but the prospect of raw meat was still more enticing than the inconvenience of having to put up with Harriet. “The killer first held some kind of rag to Shana and her husband’s faces, and then…” She closed her eyes, reliving the horror. “Then the sick bastard chopped off her head with a meat cleaver. I couldn’t watch. The worst part? That stupid dog just lay there. Instead of defending his master, he simply took it all in. Just goes to show dogs are the stupidest creatures on the planet.”

We all stared at Kane, who looked back at us, his tongue lolling. The moment he caught sight of five cats lounging by the pool, he blew a gasket. He jumped from Shayonne’s arms and came running straight at us.

Arf, arf, arf.

“Run!” I yelled.

Arf, arf, arf.

I set off in the direction of the garden, hoping to find a tree high enough to escape this hairy monster. But instead of coming after me, he produced the sweetest sound in the world: the sound of a dog squealing in pain. When I looked back, I saw Kane racing toward the house, his tail between his legs.

“What happened?” I asked.

In response, Clarice showed me her paw. There was blood on her claws.

“Let’s just say he won’t bother us again,” she said with a nasty grin.