Himalayan Hazard (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 8)

by Molly Fitz

  “And run,” Octo-Cat directed.

  I was not going to run away from the poor guy. At least not literally.

  I stuck a Bluetooth device in my ear as we pushed through our car into the next. The thing hadn’t worked in years, but it did provide a great misdirect when I felt the need to talk to Octo-Cat in a public place.

  “What do you think?” I asked him as I felt the train jolt to life under my feet. My hand stretched toward the wall, catching me just in time to avoid my stumbling forward.

  “Well, that was unpleasant” my cat complained with a low growl. “Can I please get out of this thing now?”

  “I’ll let you out as soon as we settle somewhere,” I promised, pausing for a moment to glance out the window as we rolled away from the station. Nan was still out there waving like mad, but soon she became a speck on the horizon.

  He sighed and thumped around in the case. “I know it was just an excuse to get away from Chatty McMyNovel, but I could use a meal or at least a spot of Evian.”

  “The dining car it is.” I raised him higher and hugged the carrier to my chest as I pushed into the next car.

  I hoped the conductor wouldn’t give my parents a hard time for me being up and out of my seat already, but then again most of what I knew about trains came from old timey books and movies. Things seemed to run a bit different in our modern age of digitization.

  Luckily, we only had to pass through three other passenger cars before reaching our destination. That was good news for the journey ahead. I liked knowing that snacks were nearby, should we need them.

  “I should probably text Mom and Dad to let them know where we went.” I unlatched the wire front door, and Octo-Cat sprang out onto the table twitching mightily.

  “You do realize that in cat years that was almost a full prison sentence, right?” He shuddered, then plopped on his side and began to lick his kitty bits for all to see—and on an eating surface, no less. At least I was used to his less than courteous ways.

  Shaking my head, I sent a quick text to my mom, asking if she needed anything while we were over here. As soon as I sent the message, my phone spat out a message to let me know I had a low battery. Twenty percent. Ugh, leave it to me to be so preoccupied with the upcoming journey that I forgot essentials like making sure I had a fully charged phone.

  Glancing around the dining car, however, put my fears to rest. Every single table had an electrical outlet. I just needed to fine my phone charger inside my jumbled mess of a suitcase and then we’d be perfectly fine.

  “I’ll go see if they have any Evian,” I told Octo-Cat.

  He mumbled something, not bothering to pause his public ministrations to address me properly.

  I sighed and shook my head again, then approached the snack station with a rumbling belly. Another basic necessity I’d ignored in my excitement over the trip.

  The worker saw me approaching and forced a smile. His curly red hair fell forward into his eyes, and he reached up to brush it from his face. Perhaps I would stick to prepackaged food unless I was certain he wouldn’t be the one preparing it.

  I’d seen steak among the meal options, and that sounded really good right about now. Was it too early to order my dinner? I hoped not.

  Before I could reach the counter to order anything, however, a woman wearing a cream skirt and matching peplum blouse intercepted me.

  “Hello, there,” she said with a friendly but placid grin. “Were you just talking with your cat over there?”

  She glanced over my shoulder and nodded to Octo-Cat back at our table, then set her eyes back on mine with a knowing expression, aka an expression that suggested she’d already figured out my closely guarded secret.

  Five minutes aboard a train, and I’d already made a major misstep.

  Uh-oh.

  Chapter Three

  I took a giant step back, but the lady reached out and grabbed my wrist, chuckling softly as she did.

  “I didn’t mean to insult you. After all, I talk to my Grizabella constantly. Few people understand the special bond between a woman and her cat. Wouldn’t you say?” She tilted her head to the side and widened her grin.

  I nodded as relief washed over me. “My name’s Angie, and he’s Octo-Cat.”

  “I’m Rhonda Lou Ella Smith.” She held out her hand, which hung limp from her wrist. Did she expect a shake or a kiss? Either way, I was afraid of hurting her with my strong grip, so I settled on a fist bump… which failed miserably.

  Rhonda brushed her hands off, then folded them in front of her waist. “Yes, well. Care to join us at our table? Better you than someone else, after all.” She laughed again, and the sound reminded me of a bird singing at first morning light. Everything about her reminded me of a bird, actually—from the delicate bone structure to the expensive and perfectly tailored outfit and flashy jewelry all the way to her dazzling platinum hair.

  “Sure, let me just order our snacks first.” I turned back toward the red-headed counter attendant and he dropped his hand from his mouth sheepishly. Gross. I bit my nails, too, but not while working food service.

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that. I have more than enough to share,” Rhonda promised, then sashayed back toward her table, moving so gracefully I had to wonder if she’d escaped from a ballet or a circus trapeze act or something.

  “Okay, then. Be right over.” I smiled again just in case she turned back at the sound of my voice and skulked back to my table, completely baffled by the elegant woman’s interest in me. Was it really so simple as her feeling a bond to me as a cat owner?

  “Whatever you agreed to, I didn’t,” my cat told me, sitting up straight and wrapping his striped tail around himself. “I’m staying right here.”

  “Then I guess you won’t be getting any Evian,” I whispered, turning my back to him and counting to five under my breath.

  “One of these days I’m calling the animal cruelty association on you,” he said from behind me, then jumped from the table onto my shoulder.

  “Ouch! Claws!” He’d never hitched a ride on me before, so I wasn’t sure why he wanted to do it now—other than perhaps thinking it could be a fun new way to humiliate, and thus punish, me for forcing him to make nice with the other passengers.

  “What a cute trick,” Rhonda chirped, clapping her hands in delight as we approached.

  “Tricks? Aren’t those for old dogs? I am a cat, madame,” Octo-Cat said to our new friend, although I’m sure she only heard his croaky, entitled meow.

  “Don’t bother speaking to her,” a smooth, lyrical voice rose from the bench seat. “She never understands.”

  My eyes darted to the gorgeous long-haired cat with dark face, tail, and paws and striking blue eyes. Must be the previously mentioned Grizabella. There were cats, and then there were cats. Grizabella belonged to the latter classification. She looked like she could have stepped out of a textbook, so perfect was her coat, her stance, basically everything about her.

  Octo-Cat stiffened on my shoulder, brushing his whiskers against my cheek as he craned to see the Himalayan better. “Pray, Angela. Do you also see an angel before us?”

  An angel? What?

  I tried to turn to look at him, but only got a face-full of striped tabby fur. Irritated, I pried him from my shoulder and set him onto the empty bench seat across from Rhonda.

  He didn’t even protest. He also didn’t stop staring at the other cat for even a second. As soon as I set him down, he hopped onto the table, his quest for Evian apparently a thing of the past.

  “Dear beautiful feline, it is an honor and a privilege to look upon you,” he said, his amber eyes growing larger the longer they beheld her. Either he’d been spending too much time around Pringle, our resident raccoon and medieval knight enthusiast, or he’d discovered one of the fantasy channels on TV. Knowing him, either was equally likely.

  “I think my cat likes yours,” I told Rhonda with a chuckle. I’d never seen Octo-Cat try to flirt before, and I kind of wish I had
n’t seen it now.

  “Careful,” the woman warned. “Grizabella doesn’t much like other cats, or people, or anyone, really.” She reached out to stroke the Himalayan’s long fur, but a quick paw batted her away.

  Talk about a cat after Octavius’s own heart.

  “I do not appreciate your attempts to flatter me, house cat,” Grizabella hissed, then cuddled up to Rhonda’s side. Talk about hot and cold. Octo-Cat also had pretty intense mood swings, but normally in the space of an hour rather than mere seconds.

  And, normally, such a slight would send my tabby into a mad spiral of hurling insults and lashing claws, but not this time. “You misunderstand. I am part Maine Coon, the most ancient of American-born breeds, and I am at your service, beautiful Grizabella.” He dipped his head closer to the table and folded his ears out to the side in a show of respect.

  “I don’t need your service. My human meets my needs just fine.”

  “Hard to get,” Octo-Cat remarked with a jaunty laugh.

  “No. Impossible to get,” Grizabella corrected, her tail flicking on the bench seat beside her and beating against her owner.

  “Nothing is impossible.” Octo-Cat winked, then licked his paw. “I will find a way. After all, solving mysteries is my job. I own half of a private investigation firm, mind you.”

  Grizabella did appear mildly impressed by this but said nothing.

  I figured it was time for me to chat with the other human, lest we raise suspicion about our special communication link. “What brings you on board the train today?” I asked Rhonda, doing my best to focus my full attention on her.

  Rhonda fingered the gold pendant that hung down from the chain of pearls around her neck. The piece was enormous and quite stunning, given the intricacy of the design carved into it. A cluster of matching pearls sat proudly in the middle of the piece, creating a real treat for the eyes. The thing must have cost an absolute fortune. On the contrary, my nicest piece of jewelry was a delicate sterling silver chain with a paw print charm that Nan had given me on my last birthday.

  Rhonda glanced out the window thoughtfully. “I prefer rail travel. It’s better for Grizabella.”

  “We’re headed for Georgia,” I volunteered. “Is that where you’re going?”

  “Not this time. We’ll probably get off before then.” Odd that she didn’t actually name her destination, but I decided not to press. Pressing was not the point of making small talk, after all.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a train before. Well, except maybe at the zoo.” I laughed at my own non-joke.

  Rhonda did not. “You’ll like it. There’s nothing quite like it.”

  “I can see that already.”

  She smiled again, then returned her attention to the window. Strange she was so insistent on having us join her when she didn’t really seem to want to talk.

  We fell silent. Both of us turned our attention toward the cats, who, much to Octo-Cat’s chagrin, had still not made friends.

  “Oh, dear Grizabella. I will do anything for you, even lay down one of my nine lives.” He crept to the edge of the table and sat right in front of Rhonda, who cooed happily and stroked his fur.

  “Not interested,” Grizabella said, lifting her nose into the air.

  Octo-Cat ignored the human and continued to beg the Himalayan for her love. “I could catch a mouse. Would you like a nice dead mouse?”

  Grizabella growled and ran under the table to avoid my poor lovestruck bumpkin.

  When I glanced back toward Rhonda, she was chuckling into a cloth napkin. “That’s my Grizabella for you. She doesn’t much approve of other cats, and they don’t approve of her.”

  I was just about to argue that Octo-Cat approved greatly of the Himalayan, but then Rhonda said, “It’s why we make such a perfect pair.”

  What a strange thing to say. Was this the wealthy woman’s way of saying she didn’t approve of me—or that she thought I didn’t approve of her? Why would it even matter? And, again, why had she insisted on having us join her?

  I smiled but said nothing in response. Eventually, she moved on to tell me stories of Grizabella’s many mundane adventures. Honestly, I kind of wished I’d stayed with the writer guy.

  Chapter Four

  Although Rhonda had promised to share her cache of snacks, she never once made an offer while we were sitting together. By the time Octo-Cat and I dismissed ourselves from her table, I was too embarrassed to remind her but also worried it would be too rude to purchase snacks right in front of her. My hopes rested on my parents now and the knowledge that my sports-obsessed dad almost always had a protein bar or bag of trail mix on him.

  “Are you sure you can’t stay and chat a little longer?” Rhonda asked when I stood to go.

  She glanced out the window again and I looked out, too. Clearly, we’d been sitting together for quite a while, because dusk had already begun to fall across the rolling landscape. No wonder I was starving!

  “I’m sorry. I really need to get back to my parents,” I said with a shrug, hating how childish it made me sound.

  “That’s wonderful that you’re so close with your family. Very special, indeed,” Rhonda said, stroking her cat absentmindedly as she watched me prepare to leave.

  By some miracle, Octo-Cat returned to his carrier willingly and without complaint, presumably because Grizabella was watching. Man, if I’d known finding him a girlfriend would be the ultimate bargaining chip, I would have played matchmaker a long time ago.

  “So,” I mumbled as I carried him back through the three cars on the way to ours, my Bluetooth placed perfectly. “Do you always go gaga for Himalayans, or is there something special about Grizabella in particular?”

  He sighed blissfully. “I’ve never been in love before tonight. It’s like a whole new plane of consciousness has opened itself to me.” It seemed his first crush had turned him into Shakespeare. I didn’t blame Grizabella for finding his affections so wearisome.

  I rolled my eyes. “Just remember, we’re not on the train for that long and you probably won’t see her after we get off at our station. Or actually, Rhonda said they’d be getting off first…” It took me a moment to make sure I had recalled that detail correctly since I had to wade through hours of cat stories to get back to the beginning of our conversation.

  Suddenly, I felt very sorry for my poor kitty. Not only did he not stand a chance, but he’d probably never see his crush again. “Just don’t get all heartbroken over this,” I warned. “I hate to see you hurting.”

  “Love always finds a way, Angela,” he said sagely. Although in this particular case, I had no idea how things would work out, considering the object of his affection actively disliked him.

  Also they were cats. Could cats even fall in love? It seemed like maybe they could. I hoped one day Octo-Cat would find a lady who would return his romantic longings. I was also incredibly happy that he was fixed, given his complete lack of modesty when it came to… well, everything.

  “Does this mean you’ll be more accepting of me and Charles?” I asked, hoping that my feline’s own brush with love might get him to stop referring to my boyfriend as UpChuck.

  He said nothing, but a giant purr rolled up from the carrier in what I had to assume was the kitty version of humming blissfully while thinking of one’s beloved. Wow. He really had it bad.

  Speaking of having it bad, I returned to my seat only to find my parents wrapped even tighter around each other as they both stared at my mom’s laptop with rapt attention.

  “What are you guys watching?” I asked, noticing that they were sharing a single pair of earbuds.

  “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part Two,” my mom answered without removing her eyes from the screen.

  “Ugh, you guys! Why are you starting with the last one?”

  “Well, we need to know it has a good ending before we invest in such a long series. Don’t we?” my father asked with one raised eyebrow.

  Personally, I hated spoi
lers. They took away at least half the fun. At least my parents were giving it a try, though. I had to give them credit for that.

  The aspiring writer I’d met before stopped typing and seemed to watch us from his peripheral vision. Was he waiting for an opening to tell me about his novel again?

  Looked like I had a choice to make. I could either cuddle up with my already too cozy parents and pretend to watch the movie or I could go off exploring again. After the chat with Rhonda and Grizabella, I needed some alone time to recharge, which meant I had to get out of there before the conceited writer guy launched a second attempt at conversation.

  “I just needed to grab my jacket,” I said, hoisting the lightweight denim from the seat and draping it over my shoulders. “Oh, and before I go, do you have something I can eat?”

  “As the Boy Scouts say, always be prepared.” My dad picked up his travel bag and tossed a granola bar my way, still not removing his eyes from the movie. Well, at least they really seemed to like it.

  “Thanks,” I called over my shoulder, already making a getaway. We’d already found the dining car, and it was probably too soon to go back if I wanted to avoid a second get-together with Rhonda. Perhaps I could find the viewing car and hang out there for a while.

  We passed through the three cars between our seats and the dining car, then four more to find the empty glass-sided carriage with seats arranged down the center to face the giant walls of windows on both sides. Only the very top of the ceiling was covered in metal, providing a panoramic view as far as my eyes could see, just so long as I didn’t tilt my head up or down.

  I set Octo-Cat’s carrier on the ground and opened the latch. He pranced right up to the giant window, his movements soft and swaying despite his hatred of that carrier. A gentle rain had begun to patter on the glass, surrounding us in a peaceful dream-like bubble.

  “I wish Grizabella was here to see this,” he said with a longing I’d never heard from him before, not even when he spoke of his late owner, Ethel Fulton. The poor guy had it so, so bad.