by Nic Saint
Alec looked doubtful. “You’d have to come forward as a witness. Which you can’t, as you were out on a date with Chase at the time this all went down.”
“I could do it,” said Gran. “I was there. And people think I’m nuts anyways.”
This solution to the problem seemed to please Uncle Alec. Whether it was the part about his mother being nuts or the crime-solving possibilities the scheme offered wasn’t entirely clear. “I like it,” he said. “In fact I like it a lot.” He turned to Big Mac. “Would you be willing to come in in the morning to work with our sketch artist, Big Mac?”
The big cat pondered this for a moment. “Do I get another pizza if I do?”
“Of course you do,” said Gran. “You can have as much pizza as you want, little man.”
I wondered how Uncle Alec was going to justify this sudden expenditure but I was pretty sure he’d find a way. Any police chief worth his salt is also a crafty bureaucrat.
The Chief scratched his scalp as he leaned back. “This is a first, people. Never in the history of law enforcement has a cat worked with the police to create a facial composite.”
“There’s got to be a first for everything,” said Gran philosophically.
“Amen to that,” said Odelia, who looked relieved that things were going to work out.
Just then, the door opened and Chase walked in, carrying a pizza box that simply smelled heavenly. I think we were all hungry, because the moment he set the box down on the desk, three pairs of human eyes and three pairs of cat’s eyes all turned a little misty.
Big Mac must have sensed what we were all thinking, for he said loudly, “Hey! That pizza is mine! All mine!”
And then that wonderful boyfriend of Odelia’s produced three more boxes of pizza from behind his back and said, “Ta-dah! I figured that after the night we’ve had we could all use a little pick-me-up, not just Mrs. Muffin.”
I swear to God. Never had I loved a human being more than at that moment.
Chapter 16
Chase let himself drop down on his recliner in Chief Alec’s living room. Actually the room was living room, dining room and family room all in one. Being a widower, Alec didn’t need a lot of space. It was surprisingly neat, though, given the fact that it now housed two dudes. And that was what Chase wanted to talk to his boss, mentor and housemate about.
“Want a beer?” asked Alec from the kitchen as he rooted around in the fridge.
“Nah, thanks,” said Chase as he stared before him, going over the events of the evening. First his date with Odelia that had gotten off to such a good start, only to fizzle during dessert, just because some lowlife had decided taking Chris Ackerman’s wallet, phone, watch and money wasn’t enough—he had to take the poor sucker’s life, too.
Chase didn’t doubt for a second that they caught the right guy. So why the Chief would want Odelia’s grandmother to come in tomorrow to sit with the sketch artist he did not know. Tying up loose ends, probably. Creating a solid case against Sasha Drood. Then again, if Grandma Muffin had indeed seen Drood enter the library around the time of the murder, why did she need to work with a sketch artist? There were obviously wheels within wheels at work here, and he thought he saw the hidden hand of Odelia in all of this.
Whenever cats were involved, and weird stuff he couldn’t comprehend, usually Odelia was behind it. He didn’t mind. This was a small town, and small towns worked in strange and wonderful ways. Like the fact that the chief of police would allow his niece to give him a hand investigating a crime. You didn’t see that kind of thing back in New York.
Alec joined him and plunked his rotund frame into his own designated Barcalounger. The two recliners had been set up next to one another in front of the humongous flatscreen, like a matching pair. They practically looked like an old married couple, Chase thought.
“What a day,” said the police chief, blowing out a sigh, then taking a sip of beer.
“At least we got our guy,” said Chase, leaning his head back against the support.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Detective Kingsley,” grumbled the Chief. “I’m not convinced he’s not what he says he is: a common robber.”
“Pretty sure he’s our guy,” Chase insisted. He ticked off on his fingers. “We placed him at the scene. He’s obviously a no-good thug who wouldn’t mind adding murder to his rap sheet if it meant he could pocket a small fortune. Nah. He’s our doer. No doubt about it.”
The Chief studied Chase for a moment, then asked, “So how did your date go?”
Chase groaned. “I was just about to pop the question when you called.”
“Sorry about that.”
Chase waved a hand. “Not your fault. She got a call from her mother at the same time I got a call from you. Besides, maybe it’s too soon. Maybe she’s just not ready yet.”
“Or maybe she is, and all you have to do is ask her and she’ll say yes.”
“Your mother just moved out.”
“So? Better strike the iron while it’s hot. Knowing Vesta she and Tex will have another blowup and she’ll move back in with Odelia before the end of the week.” He stabbed a stubby finger in his direction. “You better move quick, son, before that happens.”
Chase thought about this. “So… how should I go about it? Any advice for a desperate man?”
“The woman is crazy about you, son, that’s pretty obvious. So from where I’m sitting you can’t do no wrong.”
Chase had a feeling he could go wrong in about a million different ways. He was fearless as a crime fighter but when it came to wooing Odelia Poole he was as nervous as a first-grader on his first day of school. “Do you think I should talk to Tex first? He is her dad, after all, and I want to do this right.”
The Chief seemed to suppress a quick smile, but agreed this would be a great idea.
“I mean, things are done differently out here in Hampton Cove. Traditional, I mean.”
“You got that right, son. We’re big on tradition out here in the sticks.”
He couldn’t tell whether Alec was making fun of him or not but at least the other man hadn’t shot down his idea about talking to Tex. He made up his mind to do just that the first chance he got. To his recollection he and the good doctor had never had a conversation about Odelia. Now was the time to correct that mistake. If he wanted to become a permanent part of Odelia’s life he needed to create a strong bond with her family—starting with her dad.
“You know? While you’re at it you might want to talk to Vesta, too,” said the Chief.
“Now I know you’re pulling my leg,” he said, and when Alec’s voluminous frame started shaking with rollicking laughter he knew he was right. Soon he was laughing right along with the big guy.
Next Alec would tell him to ask Odelia’s cat for permission, too. Ha ha ha.
Chapter 17
If you thought we were going beddy-bye after the long evening we’d had you’re sorely mistaken. Cats don’t go beddy-bye in the middle of the night. We go beddy-bye in the middle of the day. Nighttime is cattime so Dooley and I were still rearing to go-go-go!
Well, maybe not all that much. That hike to the Golden Arches and back had taken a toll on us. Still, there was still cat choir to attend, and no Hampton Cove feline wants to miss cat choir when they can help it. Not to sing, of course, but to socialize and sniff some butts. Not me, obviously. I’m not a butt-sniffer. But lots of my feline brethren and sistern are.
You can take a cat out of a butt but you can’t take a butt out of a cat.
We’d said our goodbyes to Big Mac and headed off to Hampton Cove Park, where cat choir holds its nocturnal rehearsal sessions under the tutelage of Shanille, our conductor. When we arrived the place was already buzzing, and Dooley and I quickly joined Brutus and Harriet, who had secured themselves a spot near the benches. Cat choir rehearsals are held at the playground section of the park, us cats occupying the jungle gym and other multi-colored paraphernalia. My favorite spot is on top of the slide. I lo
ve sliding down the thing from time to time. It seems to help reaching both those low notes and the high ones.
Milo, our across-the-street neighbor’s cat, who’d recently spent some time with us while his owner was vacationing in Florida, was also there. I was glad to see him. Before he met us his human never let him go outside. Odelia had had a little chat with Mrs. Lane and now Milo enjoyed that rare and wonderful privilege of the cat flap, without a doubt one of the greatest inventions made by man.
“Hey, buddy,” I said when I spotted Milo.
“Max,” he said with a nod.
Milo is a small, white cat with a very big imagination.
“Have you lost weight?” he asked now.
I was inordinately pleased. “You think so?” I asked, checking my girth.
“Your belly used to drag across the ground like a pot-bellied pig’s and now it doesn’t. That’s how I can tell that you lost weight. Either that or your legs have gotten longer, which seems improbable.”
My smile had vanished. I should have mentioned that Milo has a habit of insulting people—and cats. It stems from his days at the pound, when he had to fend for himself. You’ve got to be tough to survive life at the pound, and tough is Milo’s middle name.
“I see you’re still your usual, charming self,” I grumbled.
“Hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” He directed a nod at Dooley, who was looking up at the heavens with a suspicious look on his face, as if expecting the sky to drop on his head.
“What’s he looking at?” asked Milo curiously.
“Dooley has started watching the Discovery Channel—”
“Good for him.”
“—and saw a documentary about the apocalypse. Climate change, Yellowstone, earth-destroying comets, the usual. And now he expects the world to end any moment.”
“You’re right, you know, Dooley,” said Milo seriously.
Dooley looked over, surprised. “I’m right?”
Oh, God. Here we go again, I thought. Did I also mention Milo is a fantasist?
Milo placed a paw on Dooley’s shoulder. “The world is ending tomorrow night at midnight on the dot. Which is why I’m feeling slightly maudlin.” He transferred his paw to his heart. “And why I’m so glad I met you guys. True friendship is the only thing that makes this painful moment in our planet’s existence worth living through.”
“Oh, Milo,” said Dooley, touched.
“Thanks for your friendship, Dooley,” Milo said with a catch in his voice. “And you, Max. And Brutus and Harriet. I love you guys.”
“How—how is the world ending, exactly?” asked Dooley. “Is it… Yellowstone? Is she finally going to blow? Or are the North Koreans launching those ICBMs of theirs? Or, or, or is it the three-hundred-foot tsunami that’s going to wipe out the entire continent?”
“All of the above and more, Dooley,” said Milo sadly.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s…”
“I know.”
Both cats were silent for a moment, taking a minute to process these truths, while Harriet rolled her eyes. Then again, if it wasn’t on The Bachelor, Harriet didn’t believe it.
“You can still save yourself, though, Dooley,” said Milo now.
Hope surged in Dooley’s eyes. “How?”
“Simple. Just kick a friend.”
“Kick a friend?”
“Kick him hard. If everyone kicks a friend we can stop this apocalypse.”
“Kick a friend,” said Dooley thoughtfully.
“Here, let me show you,” said Milo, and kicked Dooley.
“Hey!”
“Do you feel it?”
Dooley stared at the cat. “Feel what?”
“That surge of energy. If we all start kicking each other we elevate the planet’s energy level. Once the planet’s core energy signature changes, we collectively enter the sixth dimension and as everybody knows the apocalypse can’t materialize in the sixth dimension.”
“Huh,” said Dooley, and eyed me curiously. I could see that his right leg was itching to give me a kick so I moved back a little.
A small smirk appeared on Milo’s face so I gave him a warning glance.
‘What?’ his expression said.
‘Cut it out,’ my expression returned.
‘I was just having a bit of fun.’
‘You had your fun now cut it out.’
‘Oh, all right. You’re such a party pooper.’
Better be a party pooper than have cat choir turn into a kickfest. As we waited for Shanille to take up her position on top of the jungle gym and start rehearsals, I noticed how Brutus suddenly seemed to have disappeared.
“Where’s Brutus?” I asked Harriet.
“Beats me,” said Harriet. She didn’t look happy. As if something was bugging her. “He’s been acting weird all week,” she added, then lowered her voice. “I think he’s having an affair, Max.”
“That’s impossible. That cat is crazy about you.”
“He was—now he’s not.”
“I think you’re wrong. I happen to know Brutus very well and—”
“If you know him so well you’ll know that he’s been unusually quiet and maudlin.”
I gave her a look of surprise. Not because of Brutus but because she knew the word maudlin.
“Maybe you should talk to him, Max. Man to man, I mean. He might tell you what’s going on.” Her expression hardened. “And if he’s been having an affair I can tell you right now that I’ll rip him to shreds and stomp on his remains then spit on his cheating carcass.”
I gulped. Harriet can be fierce, and I didn’t doubt for a moment she meant every word she said. “I’ll talk to him,” I promised. “In fact I’ll do it right now.” If I could find him, that was. “Can you keep an eye on Dooley? Milo’s been filling his ears with nonsense again.”
“I know. If he keeps it up I’ll rip him to shreds, too, then stomp on—”
“His remains. I get it.”
I was quick to put some distance between myself and Harriet. When she was in one of her moods there was no telling who’d be on the receiving end of those sharp claws.
To my surprise, I found Brutus hobnobbing with Shanille near a cluster of evergreens. The two of them were deep in conversation. So deep, in fact, that they didn’t hear me sneak up on them until I was close enough to catch some snatches of what they were discussing.
“Come tonight and come alone,” Shanille was saying.
“I will,” Brutus responded, uncharacteristically solemn. “Are you sure about this, Shanille?”
“Of course I’m sure. But it’s imperative that you tell no one, you hear?”
“Do you think I want anyone to know? I haven’t even told Max, and he’s my best bud.”
I was so surprised to hear Brutus refer to me as his best bud that I accidentally stepped on a twig and it snapped. Both Shanille and Brutus looked up and spotted me.
“Hey, guys,” I said with faux cheer. “Great weather we’ve been having, huh?”
Shanille shook her head disgustedly, then said, “You fix this, Brutus.” She stalked off, leaving me and Brutus to stare at each other, an uncomfortable silence stretching out between us.
Finally, Brutus said, “There’s something I need to tell you, Max.”
I steeled myself for the big reveal. “I like Shanille.”
He frowned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Nothing,” I hastened to say. “Just a comment in the margin.”
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and said in a soft voice, “I’m dying, Max.”
Chapter 18
“Wait, what?”
He nodded sadly. “Come here.”
I came there—reluctantly.
He spread a few hairs on his chest. “See?”
Honestly I didn’t see a thing. Mainly because it was pretty dark where we were standing, and also because Brutus is the color of the night: blacker than blac
k.
“What am I looking at?” I asked finally.
“The spots. Can’t you see them?”
“What spots?”
“The red spots!”
I squinted, straining my eyes and leaning in.
And this is how Dooley found us: me with my nose practically touching Brutus’s chest.
“Guys?” he asked. “Am I interrupting something?”
“He’s dying,” I said without preamble.
In response, Dooley came over and gave Brutus a kick against the rear end.
“Hey!” Brutus cried, jerking up. “What was that for?”
“Do you feel it?” asked Dooley, wide-eyed.
“Of course I felt it. You kicked me!”
“Now you’re in the sixth dimension and you won’t die.”
Brutus’s jaw dropped. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Finally, he reeled it back in and growled, “If you kick me one more time, I swear to God, I’ll kick you so hard your backside will become your new face and you’ll wear your tail as a nose.”
Dooley gulped at this. Milo probably hadn’t told him that even in the sixth dimension cats wouldn’t enjoy being kicked up the backside.
“Have you told Marge or Odelia?” I asked.
“About the sixth dimension?” asked Dooley.
I ignored Dooley. “Someone should take a look at those spots.”
“I’ve told Shanille and now I’ve told you and Justin Tucker over there.”
“Who’s Justin Tucker?” asked Dooley.
We both ignored him. Brutus was still sitting with his chest out and now I finally saw the spots. They were tiny and they were red. I didn’t like the look of them, to be honest.
“I’m afraid that if I tell Odelia or Marge they’ll take me to Vena and she’ll say I’ve got cancer and will put me down on the spot. I don’t want to be put down on the spot, Max.”
“I understand.” I did. No cat likes to be put down on the veterinarian’s table. It’s humiliating, not to mention unpleasant. We all want to die in our sleep after living a long and happy life. And be disease-free right up to the end. And stay far away from the vet.