by Molly Fitz
Chihuahua Conspiracy
Pet Whisperer P.I.
Molly Fitz
© 2019, Molly Fitz.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Editor: Jennifer Lopez (No, seriously!)
Cover & Graphics Designer: Cover Affairs
Proofreader: Tabitha Kocsis & Alice Shepherd
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
Sweet Promise Press
PO Box 72
Brighton, MI 48116
Contents
About This Book
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
What’s Next?
Sneak Peek: Raccoon Racketeer
What’s After That?
More from Blueberry Bay
More Molly!
About This Book
My crazy old Nan loves making decisions on a whim. Last week, she took up flamenco dancing. This week, she’s adopted a trouble-making Chihuahua named Paisley. This wouldn’t be much of a problem were it not for the very crabby tabby who also lives with us.
Man, I never thought I’d miss hearing Octo-Cat’s voice, but his silent protest is becoming too much to bear, especially since we just opened our new P.I. business together.
Things go from bad to worse, of course, when Nan and I discover that someone has been embezzling funds from the local animal shelter. If we can’t find the culprit soon, the shelter may not be able to keep its lights on and those poor homeless pets won’t have anywhere to go.
Okay, so I just need to find the thief, rescue the animals, and save the day—all while trying to find a way for Octo-Cat and Paisley to set aside their differences and work together as a team. Yeah, wish me luck…
Author’s Note
Hey, new reader friend!
Welcome to the crazy inner workings of my brain. I hope you’ll find it a fun and exciting place to be.
If you love animals as much as I do, then I’m pretty sure you’re going to enjoy the journey ahead.
Chihuahua Conspiracy is just one of my many brain-tickling adventures! Many more will be coming soon, so make sure you sign up for my newsletter or download my app to help you stay in the know. Doing so also unlocks adorable pictures of my own personal feline overlord, Schrödinger, deleted scenes from my books, bonus giveaways, and other cool things that are just for my inner circle of readers.
You can download my free app here:
mollymysteries.com/app
Or sign up for my newsletter here:
mollymysteries.com/subscribe
If you’re ready to dive right in to more Pet Whisperer P.I., then you can even order the next books right now by clicking below:
Chihuahua Conspiracy
Raccoon Racketeer
Himalayan Hazard
Hoppy Holiday Homicide
Retriever Ransom
Lawless Litter
Legal Seagull
And make sure you’ve also read the books that come before Chihuahua Conspiracy in the series. They can be read in any order, but you’ll enjoy yourself more if you start at the beginning!
Kitty Confidential
Terrier Transgressions
Hairless Harassment
Dog-Eared Delinquent
The Cat Caper
And don’t miss these special collections!
Pet Whisperer P.I. Books 1-3
Six Merry Little Murders
Okay, ready to talk to some animals and solve some mysteries?
Let’s do this!
Molly Fitz
To anyone who wishes she could talk to her animal best friend…
Well, what’s stopping you?
Chapter One
Hi, I’m Angie Russo, and this last year has been quite the wild ride for me. Yes, it’s been exactly one year since my entire life changed for the better.
Sure, I’ve come face-to-face with a lot of dangerous characters lately—murderers, kidnappers, creeps, you name it—but I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s.
Here’s the deal… It all started at my former job as a paralegal.
A wealthy old woman had just died, and her heirs had gathered at our office for the official will reading. I was instructed to make coffee, and, well, that was the last time I ever attempted such a dangerous feat.
You see, I got electrocuted and knocked unconscious. I woke up with a wicked fear of coffee makers—oh, and also the ability to talk to animals. At first, I could only talk to this one cat named Octavius Maxwell Ricardo Edmund Frederick Fulton. He was one of the primary beneficiaries of his late owner’s estate, and I now call him Octo-Cat for short.
Long story short, he told me the old lady was murdered and begged me to help him catch the killer. We did, and we pretty much became best friends in the process. Now he lives with me, and I oversee his care and also his generous trust fund.
And because I accidentally made an open-ended deal with him when I needed to get him to wear a pet harness, we now reside in his former owner’s exquisite manor house. Yes, a ten-dollar neon green harness ended up costing me a cool million.
At least most of the money was my cat’s, anyway.
Yeah. A lot has happened over the last year. My cat and I solved three more murders together. He got catnapped. I finally quit my paralegal job so we could open up a private investigation firm together, and oh, yeah… I got a boyfriend!
My nan might be even more excited about that one than I am. She’d been trying to matchmake me for years, and now that she’s finally succeeded, she’s not quite sure what to do with herself.
Yes, she continues to bake up a storm in the kitchen and take her community art classes, but lately she’s also been flipping through new hobbies like they’re going out of style. There’s been flamenco dancing, learning Korean as a second language, even Pokémon Go. She claims Pikachu understands her on a spiritual level. Personally, I don’t get it.
My mom and dad are busy with their jobs as Blueberry Bay’s local news anchor and designated sports guy. Nan and I have them over once per week for a nice home-cooked meal. Did I mention my grandmother and I live together?
It’s not weird. She’s not just the woman who raised me, but she’s also my best friend and the most amazing person I know. She even helps with Octo-Cat’s lavish demands and rigorous schedule.
And between the two of us, we keep him dining on only the seafood flavors of Fancy Feast and drinking Evian from his favorite Lenox teacup.
Most recently, he’s demanded a b
rand-new iPad Pro. His reasoning? That he needed a professional upgrade to go along with our new business venture. Never mind that he uses his tablet primarily to play various fish tank and koi pond games.
He’s given his old device to the president of his fan club, a raccoon who lives under our front porch. His name is Pringle, and he’s a pretty all right guy most of the time. Octo-Cat definitely enjoys having a fanboy to support every single decision he makes, including his regular criticism of me.
It’s true. Octo-Cat complains a lot, but I also know he loves me tons. That’s why I’m planning a special evening to celebrate our petaversary. I’m not sure he remembers, but after tonight he will.
I can’t wait to see the look on his little kitty face when he sees what I have planned for him. Let the games begin!
It wasn’t easy hiding my party preparations from Octo-Cat, but so far he hadn’t managed to catch on. Rather than cooking something myself, I asked Nan to pick up some grilled shrimp and lobster rolls from the Little Dog Diner in Misty Cove. It’s a bit of a drive, but worth every mile.
Nan would be returning any minute, which meant it was time for me to wake the guest of honor. I found him sleeping in his five o’clock sunspot on the western side of the house. “Wakey, wakey!” I cried in a sing-song voice he loathed.
“Angela,” he groaned, “haven’t you ever heard that you should let sleeping cats lie?”
“I’m pretty sure the expression is—you know what? It doesn’t matter. C’mon, I have a surprise for you.”
Whoa, close one. I almost used the word dog in a sentence. That little slipup would have ruined our whole night, but I caught myself just in time.
“A surprise?” he asked, yawning so wide that his whiskers overlapped in front of his nose. “What is it?”
“You’ll see. C’mon.” I patted my leg and motioned for him to follow.
But he sat his butt back down on the hardwood floor and flicked his tail. “Tell me, or I’m not coming,” he demanded.
“Octo-Cat, can’t you just—Ugh, fine. Today marks one year since we first met. Do you remember that day?”
“So you mean it’s been one year and one day since Ethel died?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and staring me down.
Oh, I didn’t think of that. I hoped he wouldn’t be too sad to celebrate.
“I’m just giving you a hard time,” he said with a cruel laugh, trotting over as he shook his head. “Happy anniversary, Angela. I’m glad you’re my human.”
Footsteps sounded on the porch. I hadn’t even heard Nan pull up, but now she was here, and we could officially begin our little party. I’d asked my boyfriend, Charles, to wait a couple hours before he turned up, since he and Octo-Cat didn’t get along particularly well as of late.
I secretly loved that my cat was jealous of my boyfriend but hoped that he’d eventually get over it.
“Nan?” I called when Octo-Cat and I reached the bottom of the stairs, but she still hadn’t entered. Padding over to the door, I twisted the knob and—
A wagging ball of black fur pounced into the house.
“I’m here! I’m home! Oh, boy. Oh, boy. Oh, boy!” the little dog cried, then immediately squatted and peed on the welcome mat.
I turned to Octo-Cat, who stood on the last stair with his back arched and his tail at full-blown puffball status. “Angela, what is this?” he screamed, unwittingly drawing the dog’s attention over to him.
“A cat! A cat! Oh, boy! Oh, boy! Oh, boy!” The dog, who upon closer examination appeared to be a Chihuahua, bounded right up to Octo-Cat and pressed his nose to the cat’s butt.
Octo-Cat hissed, growled, swiped with his claws, and sent the little dog shrieking away.
Yipe! Yipe! Yipe!
“What’s all this commotion?” Nan asked, charging into the house, spotting the little black dog and scooping the poor, whimpering baby into her arms. “Okay, fess up. Who hurt my Paisley?”
“Nan…” I pinched the bridge of my nose to stave off the rapidly building headache. “Why is there a dog in our house?”
“This is Paisley. Yes, she is,” Nan cooed in a baby voice, and the Chihuahua licked her cheek, the horrible, scary cat and the pain he’d inflicted apparently forgotten. “She lives here now.”
“Oh, heck no!” Octo-Cat shouted from his spot on the stairs. “I thought we were celebrating me tonight, not taking a visit to the ninth circle of hell!”
“Nan,” I said trying to make peace before everyone lost their cool. “We can’t have a dog here. Octo-Cat hates dogs.”
“Hatesssssss,” Octo-Cat hissed, then growled again.
“He hates me?” the shivering little dog asked. “He doesn’t even know me. I’m Paisley, and I’m a good girl.”
Nan continued to talk in a goochie-goo voice, keeping her eyes glued to the mostly black tri-color Chihuahua in her arms. “Well, I saw this little girl at the shelter and right away she stole my heart. What was I supposed to do?”
She looked up and narrowed her eyes at me. “Was I supposed to let her stay in that cage all by herself? Or, Heaven forbid, let them put her down when the shelter got too full?” She covered Paisley’s oversized ears and frowned at me.
“No, I mean…” I sputtered. “No, of course you couldn’t do that.” Ack, I was such a softie.
“Octavius is just going to have to get used to his new housemate, because I’m not taking her back,” Nan said in a way that made it more than clear that this topic was not up for discussion. “C’mon, baby, let’s go outside and meet the forest creatures.”
Once Nan and Paisley were safely outside, I searched around for Octo-Cat so I could both explain and apologize on Nan’s behalf.
But he was nowhere to be found.
Crud, he was never going to forgive me for this one.
Chapter Two
I found Octo-Cat at last in my bedroom, where he was crouched under my bed, his wide amber eyes glowing in the darkness. When I flopped down on my belly to get a closer look, he emitted a low growl that made me jump in my skin.
“Go away,” he added in a rumbly, somewhat terrifying voice.
“That’s not fair,” I enunciated as if scolding a petulant child. “Might I remind you that I was just as shocked by that as you were.”
I searched my brain for the right way to spin things, the way that would make him understand. Unfortunately, all logic tended to go out the window whenever Octo-Cat was unhappy—and today’s unhappiness had already reached a record-breaking level.
With great difficulty, I managed to put a happy-go-lucky smile on my face as I said, “But, I mean, if you think about it, it kind of makes sense. Right? We have each other, and now Nan has a best fur friend of her own, too. Isn’t that nice?”
“No,” the tabby replied stubbornly and turned his face toward the wall.
I hated that he was this upset, but there was nothing I could do without him being willing to at least meet me partway. “Will you at least come out for our petaversary?” I begged, practically whined.
Octo-Cat turned toward me again; his eyes still held that eerie glow as he considered my request. “I’m not coming out,” he said at last. “But if you bring my shrimp and my Evian here and promise not to let that dog in, I shall consider sharing the celebratory meal with you in our private quarters. Privately.”
I couldn’t help but sigh. “Are you really not going to leave the room at all?”
He flicked his tail, waking a cloud of dust and pet hair that rose from the carpet in a sickening flurry. Wow, I really was not a good housekeeper.
If Octo-Cat noticed the filth, he didn’t seem to mind—not when he already had much bigger fish to fry. “Not until that interloper is gone,” he informed me with another hiss. “Need I remind you that this is MY house?”
“No, you needn’t.” It felt strange using Octo-Cat’s overly refined language, but he often listened better when I did. And right now, I needed him to understand that controlling Nan was every bit as difficult as tr
ying to control him. Both were so stubborn about the things they wanted that we would have no choice but to find some kind of compromise to the Chihuahua situation.
I sighed again. “However, given your stance, it would probably be best if I brought your litter box up here as well. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
After pushing myself back into a standing position, I left my tower bedroom, careful to latch the door fully behind me. As much as I didn’t want to trap Octo-Cat inside, I was also incredibly worried about what might happen to Paisley if she nosed her way in there. She was half his size at most and clearly didn’t have an aggressive bone in her whole body.
My cat on the other hand?
He had a whole skeleton’s worth.
I found Nan in the kitchen setting out a pair of dog bone-printed ceramic bowls for Paisley in a spot just to the left of the pantry. “Sorry about Octo-Cat,” I muttered, ignoring the fact that he would be upset that the dog’s bowls were so near his stash of Fancy Feast.
“That cat was mean,” the Chihuahua whined as she rubbed at the fresh claw wound on her nose.
“He didn’t mean to hurt you. He’s just difficult sometimes,” I offered with what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
The little dog jumped up and pawed frantically at my leg, wiggling her whole body as she cried, “Hey! Hey! Hey! Did you just talk? Do you know how to talk? You’re a very good, very smart girl!”