Dog-Eared Delinquent (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 4)

by Molly Fitz

  “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.

  Chapter Seven

  Friday couldn’t come fast enough. Now that I knew there might actually be answers, I needed to hear them. My poor, tired mind was in overdrive trying to anticipate what Peter would say when we finally got the chance to talk things out.

  Why could I talk to Octo-Cat and only Octo-Cat?

  How could a quick zap from a faulty coffee maker land me with paranormal powers when the rest of the world carried on just the same as ever?

  And how did Peter Peters factor into all of this?

  I looked up the address he’d given me on Google Earth. It belonged to a squat brick building right in the heart of Glendale’s tiny downtown area. Despite having lived in the area for my entire life, I’d never noticed that building before. Perhaps my eyes had always been drawn to the more colorful, vibrant storefronts, or maybe it was new.

  I even drove past one day in search of clues and was disheartened to see a FOR LEASE sign taped inside the darken
ed window.

  Right before I left work Friday, Peter pressed a folded-up Post-it note into my palm without offering a single word about it. I tried to act naturally, but the tiny yellow paper felt like it was burning a hole right through my flesh. Once tucked safely inside my car with the doors locked, I unfolded the note and read the single word that was written there: Claw.

  Well, that made absolutely zero sense. I took a picture with my phone and texted it to Nan. Peter just gave this to me. Any idea what it means? I asked.

  I waited for a few minutes. When her reply still hadn’t come, I tossed the Post-it on my passenger seat and started my journey home. Nan often forgot her phone in various parts of the house and didn’t realize it was missing until hours later. I could just ask for her feedback in person. After all, I’d be there soon enough.

  At the stoplight, I glanced toward the note again. Maybe the trick was in how the word had been written rather than in what it said.

  Only the note wasn’t waiting on the passenger seat where I’d left it.

  I did a quick scan of the floor, assuming it had fallen. No.

  I groped under the seat, but the light turned green and the car behind me honked impatiently, forcing me to return my focus to the road.

  The remaining minutes of my drive were grueling. Peter’s note had to be somewhere. It just had to be. I needed to look harder to find it. It’s not like it could have disappeared into thin air.

  Then again, I was now living in a world where it was possible for at least two separate people to talk to animals. My reality had already warped and stretched into a vaguely unrecognizable shape. So, then, why couldn’t a tiny piece of paper go poof when no one was looking?

  Correction: when I hadn’t been looking. Suddenly, I felt as if a million invisible eyes were staring directly at me, that I was the only one who didn’t understand what had happened.

  Paranoid. Vulnerable. But not crazy.

  At home, I frantically searched the car. Still nothing.

  I couldn’t believe that Peter was making me wait until ten that night. Why had he even made me wait at all? Was this some kind of trick? Why hadn’t I suspected so earlier?

  Gullible. Naive.

  Nan found me less than half an hour into my search. “Lunch is getting cold. Granted, the cold cuts were already cold, but…” She stopped halfway down the porch steps and cocked her head to the side. “What are you doing, dear?”

  “Looking for something,” I mumbled, sweeping my hand beneath the seat for the one-millionth time. “Did you get my text?”

  “What text?” she asked in obvious confusion.

  I sighed. “Nan, you really need to start keeping your phone on you. What if there was an emergency and I couldn’t reach you?”

  Nan skipped down the rest of the steps and thrust her phone in my face. “You mean this old thing? Hasn’t left my side all day.”

  I yanked it away from her and entered the top-secret passcode, 1-2-3-4. That was probably another thing I should talk to her about when this whole business with Peter was put to rest. “Look, I sent you a picture of…”

  I opened her recent texts and saw the conversation we’d had a couple days ago, but nothing since then. The text had sent, right?

  “Dear, you don’t look so good. Come inside and have something to eat,” Nan suggested, as was her way.

  But I was a woman on a mission. I brought my phone back out and checked my texts, checked my photo stream, checked the Cloud even.

  Any indication that the Post-It note had ever existed had now also vanished into thin air. Why? It just said a single word with no context. It’s not like it was something dangerous.

  Wait, what was that word again?

  It seemed that knowledge, too, had been plucked straight from my brain. I wanted to throw up as the realization hit me.

  Nan put a gentle hand on my back and guided me into the house. “Eat,” she commanded after pulling out my chair and pushing me down into it.

  I did my best, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about the note, about Peter, about everything. I couldn’t wait any longer for answers. I needed to go now and hope that someone would be around who could explain all of this to me.

  “I’m just going to go run a quick errand,” I told Nan, not wanting to put her at risk in case we were dealing with something dangerous here.

  Octo-Cat, according to his rigorously kept schedule, was now napping in the west wing of the house. That meant I could slip away without having to first explain to him why I preferred he not come.

  Seizing my chance, I booked it downtown to the place I’d been fixated on all week. I hadn’t tried to enter before, but now I found parking down the block and marched straight up to the presumably vacant building. A polite knock on the front door produced no results, nor did the frantic pounding that followed. I tried to peer in through the window, but everything appeared empty, dusty, uninhabited.

  Was Peter just yanking my chain?

  Sending me on a wild goose chase rather than giving me any real answers?

  But then why the note?

  It had seemed he wanted me to know about his ability—or at least to know that he knew about mine—but why?

  I groaned in frustration and kicked the edge of the building.

  “Come now, Angela. Try to control yourself,” Octo-Cat said, appearing at my feet as if from nowhere. He yawned, then swiped a paw across his forehead.

  “Where did you come from?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief.

  He looked bored with me already. “The car. Same as you.”

  No, something didn’t make sense here. “We’ve never had a drive where you haven’t clawed the heck out of my lap,” I argued, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him. “How could you have possibly stowed away undetected?”

  He shrugged his little striped shoulders. “You’re improving your skills. I’m improving mine.”

  “Well, that’s just great.” And, under normal circumstances, it probably would have been, but I was too frustrated about all the non-answers floating around when it came to Peter, his Post-It, and now this building, too.

  I pulled on the door handle, but it didn’t budge. With another massive groan, I slapped the edge of the building and bit back a scream. Now my hand and my foot hurt from abusing this stupid brick façade, yet I was no closer to figuring things out than I had been before stupid Peter came to stupid town. Grrr.

  Octo-Cat lay on the sidewalk with his face hidden beneath both paws. “You’re embarrassing me,” he ground out.

  Great, great, great. I threw my hands up and charged down the block, back toward my car.

  “Wait!” he called after me, running a short distance and then stopping at the alley. “We can still check the other sides, right?”

  Darn it, he was right. I took a deep breath, then turned back his way.

  Down the alley there was only a single door partially obscured by an overflowing dumpster. I lifted my hand and made a fist, but then hesitated. What would I find inside? Once I knew the truth, there would be no going back. Was I ready for that? Really ready?

  “Well, go ahead and get it over with already,” Octo-Cat said gently.

  I knocked so lightly, the sound barely even reached my own ears.

  But a voice immediately answered from the other side. “Password?” it demanded.

  Password? Peter hadn’t said anything about…

  “Claw,” I said before my brain had even finished connecting the dots.

  The door opened.

  Chapter Eight

  The man who opened the door was slight and gangly with a massive array of freckles scattered across his pale face. Definitely not the type one would expect to see in the role of security for…

  What was this place?

  I squinted my eyes and strained to see in the dank lighting. The inside looked very much the same as the outside—all brick and blah.

  “Who sent you?” the bouncer asked, guiding us down the long s
taircase. His eyes shone a beautiful shade of green I’d never seen before—and not just in nature, but had truly never glimpsed under any context.

  “Peter Peters,” I muttered, searching the big, empty space, but seeing nothing beyond the guard in front of me and Octo-Cat at my feet.

  The guard shook his head and wrinkled his nose in a way that suggested perhaps he also didn’t think much of Peter. “He’s not due in until later tonight, but go ahead and have a seat if you want. You’re welcome to have a drink while you wait.”

  I scanned the room again, wondering how I could have missed something as large as a bar in my previous glance about. “Um, where?” I asked nervously when I was still only met by dust and dirt and cobwebs.

  The guard jabbed me in the ribs playfully, but it still hurt. “Haha, good one.”

  I let out an awkward laugh, truly not knowing what I should say next. Should I ask how he knew Peter, or would it be better to inquire about how the door had just magically appeared in the alleyway earlier?

  “Who are you, and what is this place?” Octo-Cat asked the guard, shifting his weight from one side to the other, clearly unnerved by the filth of our current surroundings.

  Our strange host answered him directly. “I’m Moss O’Malley. Haven’t you ever been to the lair before?” If you’re keeping count, that’s now at least three of us who could talk to Octo-Cat. I definitely wasn’t alone, not anymore.

  “Can’t say that we have,” I answered for the both of us, pointing at my chest emphatically. “At least I haven’t.”

  “Me neither,” Octo-Cat supplied.

  Moss stiffened. “You did say Peter sent you, right?”

  We both nodded, eager to learn more.

  “What would that dog want with you two?”

  I ignored Moss’s strange choice of words and also the fact that he seemed to be edging back toward the stairs.

  “That’s personal, I—” I began.

  “Clearly she can talk to animals, doofus,” my very unhelpful tabby interjected. He lived by one simple motto: when in doubt, add an insult. That didn’t seem to be a good plan right about now. We were both in over our heads with Moss and his strange lair here.