Purrfect Murder (The Mysteries of Max Book 1)

by Nic Saint

  “Sure! Fine! All right!” I cried. “I can get you all that and more.”

  I was pretty sure that Odelia wouldn’t mind trading a couple of expensive bags of cat food for the identity of the Paulo Frey killer. It was a bargain!

  Clarice held up her paw, then sliced it with the nail of her other paw. A small drop of blood dribbled down. I thought I was going to faint at the sight of the blood, and it was obvious Dooley was feeling the same way.

  “Put it there, fellas,” she said in that gravelly voice of hers. “Let’s seal the deal with blood.”

  “Is that really necessary?” asked Dooley in a choked voice.

  “No blood, no deal,” growled Clarice.

  “What is this, the Middle Ages?” squeaked Dooley. “I thought we were past all this nonsense.”

  “All right, all right,” I said, fearing Clarice would change her mind. So I held up my left paw and made a small incision. A drop of blood appeared, and I suddenly felt queasy. That’s the curse of being a house cat: you lose those killer instincts.

  “Now you, Dooley,” I said.

  “Yeah. Now you, Dooley,” said Clarice in a mocking voice. “Put it there, pal.” She was simply taunting us, I realized. Playing with us, as if we were mice.

  “I—I can’t,” he cried. “I can’t stand the sight of blood. And I—I hate the pain!” he added with a pathetic whiny voice.

  “Oh, for crying out loud,” Clarice grunted. “What are you, a cat or a mouse? Come here, you pansy-ass puss.” And with a vicious slicing movement, she scratched Dooley’s nose.

  “Owowowowow!” he cried. “What did you do that for?!”

  “Because you’re a whiny little pussy,” she said, and put her hand up to his nose, giving it a hearty pat. “Now you, Max. Slap one on this sissy’s nose.”

  I put my paw against hers and Dooley’s nose, so that our blood mingled. It was a very unhygienic business, I thought, and as I did it, I winced. Dooley mewled with apparent pain, and obviously didn’t like his nose squeezed between my paw and Clarice’s. He bore it bravely, though, probably because he didn’t have any choice. If he ran for the hills now, Clarice would hunt him down and eat him alive, just like she’d swallowed down that mouse.

  Clarice finally grunted her approval. “It’s not your regular blood oath,” she said as she gave Dooley a nasty glare, “but I guess it’ll do.”

  And, as promised, she proceeded to put us on the scene she’d witnessed over a year ago, when Paulo Frey had lost his life. Both Dooley and I gasped when we finally learned the identity of the killer, and stared at each other in abject horror. All this time I’d figured that some outsider had done the terrible deed, and not one of our own, but now it turned out that evil had been much closer than we’d figured. We’d harbored a viper at our bosoms, and Hampton Cove would never be the same again after this startling revelation.

  “So I’ll come and collect one of these days,” Clarice reminded me, and then seemed to take pity on us. “Cheer up, boys,” she snarled. “It’s a tough world. Kill or be killed. No need to get all mushy on me. You’re cats, for crying out loud, not pansies. Learn to love the pain! Love it!”

  After dispensing these pearls of wisdom, she trotted off, leaving bloody paw prints behind. Long after she’d left, Dooley and I still sat there, staring into space, Dooley with blood dripping down his nose, which he occasionally licked, trying to heal the wound, and me holding up my paw and also licking it in a steady rhythm. I wasn’t going to go walkabout now, not with that cut. It just might infect and cause gangrene and then my entire leg would have to come off, and how would I look then? I know, I know. Dooley and I are not exactly feral. Sue us. We’re house cats, used to the good life. Used to being pampered and spoiled. At least we’d just solved the Paulo Frey murder.

  After what seemed like the longest time, we set a course for the homestead, and Dooley was the first one to break the silence.

  “Who would have thought?”

  “Yeah, who would have thunk?”

  We didn’t speak again. We were both bone-tired, and the moment we arrived home, we both dropped our weary bodies down, me on my favorite spot on the couch, and Dooley right next to me. He’d asked to crash at my place, as he didn’t want to risk coming across Harriet and Brutus, and I’d magnanimously agreed. Dooley and I are like brothers, and my space is his space. Besides, we’d just made a blood oath, so now we were blood brothers.

  And then we both fell into a deep, healing sleep, dreaming of cruel killers and feral cats and big bags of the best kibble Odelia’s money could buy.

  Chapter 19

  Odelia parked the pickup across the street from the library. It was located on its own patch of land, and fronted by a small garden that sported several flower beds and looked as colorful, cozy and inviting as the library itself, the place where her mother Marge had worked all her life. A neo-Elizabethan style building, it looked like something transported from England and plunked down here. Once inside, it got even better, as high ceilings and open spaces invited you in. Hampton Covians young and old gathered here to find their favorite book or to listen to one of the writers occasionally asked to read from their work.

  Recently the library had been expanded with a children’s wing, which was now the pride and talk of the town. Odelia didn’t have to look long for her mother, who was at the desk, checking out a couple of books for a young mother and her two kids. While she waited until her mom was free, Odelia strode to the newspaper and magazine nook and took a seat. A copy of her very own Hampton Cove Gazette was on display, right next to the big boys like the New York Times, the Washington Post and USA Today. Of course the local press was also represented: Dan’s Papers and the East Hampton Star had pride of place.

  She picked up a copy of Time Magazine and saw that it featured an article on Paulo Frey, on the occasion of his disappearance one year ago. She leafed through the article, and saw that the reporter, like most people, simply assumed the writer had gone off to write a novel somewhere on an exotic island, and would soon return clutching a voluminous tome that would prove his masterpiece. Little did they know he’d been resting at the bottom of a pit all this time.

  She placed the magazine back on the stand and wandered over to the new children’s section, past rows and rows of neatly indexed books. The children’s room sported a large boat, where kids could sit and read, and other creative nooks as well, all in a bid to inspire the new generation to take up the habit of picking up a book from time to time. In this day and age of electronic devices, it was sometimes hard to get kids to read, when they could watch a cartoon on their tablet computer instead, and the new wing had been designed to provide kids with a sense of curiosity about the world of books, and to instill them with a love for the medium that would hopefully last a lifetime.

  “Great space, huh?” her mother asked when she joined her. Marge Poole was a fine-boned woman with long blond hair, just like her daughter, and soft, brown eyes that spoke of her humanity. She was soft-spoken and sweet-tempered, and had been a mainstay at the library for the past thirty years.

  She now stepped into the boat and picked up a picture book of Jonah and the Whale and started flipping its pages. Odelia joined her and picked up a Garfield comic book. Garfield always reminded her of Max.

  “So how are things at the paper?” Marge asked.

  “Great,” said Odelia. The boat was even more spacious than she’d imagined, even for two grown-ups, so she gathered for kids it was enormous. “I’m working on an article about the Paulo Frey murder case.”

  “I heard about that,” said her mother, looking up. “What a horrible thing to happen in Hampton Cove. Who would have thought something like this was even possible? It’s more something you’d expect in New York, not here.”

  “Yeah, it’s not something that happens every day,” she agreed, then decided to broach a topic that might lead her into trouble. “Dad told me you invited that new cop for dinner? Chase Kingsley?”

  Her mot
her’s face lit up with a smile. “Such a nice young man. I figured since he’s new in town, it would be nice to offer him a home-cooked meal and show him that Hampton Cove is a genuinely hospitable town.”

  “So you met him, huh?”

  “Alec brought him by the library yesterday to introduce him.”

  “He, um…” She hesitated. “Did he tell you about his previous career?”

  “Well, Alec told me that Chase used to work for the NYPD.”

  “Did he also tell you how he got fired?”

  Her mom’s eyes widened. “Fired? No, he didn’t tell me about that.”

  In a few brief words she explained why it was that Hampton Cove had suddenly gained a policeman while the NYPD had lost one. She also added that Max and Dooley were convinced that the man was innocent of the charges, and that they’d set out to prove it.

  “Of course he’s innocent,” said her mother now. “A man like that could never be guilty of such a heinous crime. Harassment, no less. I think I would recognize a molester when I saw one, and Chase definitely isn’t one. In fact I’m surprised you thought for a moment he could be guilty of such a crime.”

  She shrugged. “Like I told Dad, we got off on the wrong foot. He took a dislike to me, simply because I’m a reporter, and then things escalated.”

  “We’ll settle all of that tonight. You and Chase can take a stroll after dinner and work things out. Kiss and make up,” she said blithely.

  She blinked, and felt her cheeks redden. “Um, I don’t know about that,” she said. “He seems to hate my guts, especially after…”

  Her mother frowned. “After what?”

  “Nothing,” she muttered, idly toying with a particularly colorful troll that was placed on the edge of the boat. Which reminded her… “Did you know that Frey had a reputation for trolling people? Especially women and gays?”

  “No, I didn’t,” said her mother, surprised. “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty much. He trolled Gabby Cleret and Aissa Spring and a lot of others. Turns out he wasn’t such a nice person, and whoever killed him was probably one of his victims.”

  “I simply can’t imagine. He was in here often, you know.”

  This surprised her. “He was?”

  “Well, as a writer of his stature we took every opportunity to invite him for readings. He was extremely accommodating and always proved a big hit.”

  She gave her mother a grin. “So you can’t recognize a molester of women after all, huh?”

  Marge pursed her lips in disapproval. “Are you sure those aren’t just rumors and gossip? Paulo Frey never struck me as an unpleasant man. Quite the contrary. I thought he was extremely charming, and eager to please.”

  “Yes, I’m sure, Mom,” she said, remembering Aissa’s story, and Gabby’s harrowing tale. “He was actually a very nasty person.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’re right,” said her mother, fiddling with a troll. They were placed throughout the library because of a special screening of the movie Trolls. Justin Timberlake was supposed to attend and sing a song. “I just hope they catch his killer soon. I’d hate for anyone else to get hurt.”

  “I don’t think anyone else is going to get hurt. This was personal.”

  “Well, I’m sure Alec and Chase will capture the killer soon enough.”

  “Not if I catch him first.”

  This elicited a frown from her mother. “Honey, you’re not a police officer. You’re a reporter. Why don’t you leave this nasty business to Alec?”

  “Because I have an instinct for solving crime, Mom, even Alec said so.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to go and willingly put yourself in harm’s way, honey. Messing around with murder is extremely dangerous.”

  “I’m sure that this killer only ever intended to make one victim,” she said, brushing off her mother’s concerns. Mom was always worried about her safety. She’d been even more worried when she’d been away in New York, in college, and only came home on the weekends. Now that she was home again, living next door, she still worried. Even though she was proud that her little girl was a reporter, she’d much rather have seen her pursue a career fraught with less danger. Like a doctor, following in her father’s footsteps.

  In her mother’s hopes and dreams for her future, she’d always seen her work alongside her father, so she could take over the practice when he retired one day. Even her father had faintly harbored that wish. But she’d never had any interest in the medical profession. Journalism had been her first love, and she’d always known that when she grew up she’d be a reporter, just like Dan. Even though she’d had loftier ambitions at the time. She’d always wanted to be a reporter for one of the big papers. Or even one of the big networks. But she’d soon discovered that at heart she was a small-town girl, and had to accept she’d never make a career in New York. She’d never fly overseas to cover a war, or interview the leaders of the world gathered in Davos. And she was fine with that. She was happy right here in Hampton Cove, covering the opening of a new library wing, or the mermaid festival.

  “Look, this is what I do, Mom,” she said. “And I’m sure that whoever this killer is, isn’t going to come after me.”

  “How can you be so sure?” asked her mother, worry etched on her features.

  “Call it a hunch. This killer isn’t a serial killer. It’s someone pushed too far by Frey. Someone who decided enough was enough. Whoever this is, isn’t going to kill again, I’m sure of it.”

  “Unless you get too close,” said her mother, looking fearful. “And then they will lash out, simply to keep you from discovering the truth about them.”

  “That’s not gonna happen. You know me. I’m always very careful.”

  “I wish you’d just leave all this business to your uncle Alec and this nice young policeman, honey. They can protect themselves. They’re trained to.”

  She saw she would never be able to convince her mother, so she decided to change the subject. “Any idea how to convince Hampton Cove that Chase Kingsley is innocent of the crime he’s been accused of?”

  Her mother frowned at this. “Convince? Why, there’s nothing to prove. Anyone can see he’s a perfectly nice young man with impeccable morals.”

  “Not everyone is as welcoming and perceptive as you, Mom.”

  She would have used the word ‘naive,’ but that was a little harsh.

  “I’m sure that once they get to know Chase, those rumors will go away.”

  “I very much doubt it.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Mom said breezily as she got out of the boat. A customer had caroled out a loud ‘Yoo-hoo!’

  Odelia didn’t share her mother’s optimism. She thought that the moment the story hit the town that Chase Kingsley was a convicted criminal, they’d petition the mayor to get him fired. And if enough people signed that petition, the mayor and Uncle Alec would have no choice but to let him go. Even though until a couple of hours ago she’d believed herself that Chase was a bad person, she now saw that a gross miscarriage of justice had taken place, and that if it wasn’t rectified, this business would haunt him for the rest of his life. And even though the man was as stubborn and pigheaded as anyone she’d ever known, he didn’t deserve that.

  With a sigh, she got up and climbed out of the boat. A little girl had run up and was eyeing her a little timidly. Adults usually didn’t go and sit in the children’s boat. She gave the girl a sweet smile and handed her the troll she’d been holding. “The boat is all yours, honey,” she said. “Knock yourself out.”

  She watched how the girl and her sister hopped into the boat and started playing with the trolls, then picked up a book and started reading. She smiled, wondering if one day her own kids would be sitting there, with her watching on. She firmly put the thought out of her mind. Until she met the right guy, that wasn’t a prospect she liked to dwell on.

  She returned to the front of the library, and was greeted by Gran, who’d been rummaging around between the bookshelve
s, replacing returned books. She used a small cart to do it, which was now empty. For the occasion she was wearing a long, black coat, claiming there was a draft in the library, and she needed to protect herself. With pink hair peeping from beneath a lime-green knit cap she’d placed on her head, she looked like an eighties punk rocker.

  Though the weather was warm, Gran rarely left the house without one of an extensive collection of bonnets. She claimed that the winds blowing in from the ocean were worse in the summer than in winter, and that she had to protect herself against catching her death.

  “So? Did you catch that killer?” asked Gran.

  “Not yet, but I’m getting closer.”

  “You better catch him soon. This place ain’t safe with that monster on the loose.”

  “I’m sure he or she isn’t going to attack anyone else, Gran,” she promised.

  “How would you know? You’re not a killer,” snapped her grandmother. “They might as well be prowling the streets as we speak, looking for their next victim.” She shivered. “I wouldn’t like to cross paths with that beast.”

  “You won’t,” she said.

  Gran glanced at the late customer who was still browsing. She was the mother of the two girls now happily ensconced in the children’s boat.

  “I wish they wouldn’t come in five minutes before closing time,” Gran grumbled. “Don’t they know we’ve got more important things to do?”

  “Like what? Playing Scrabble with Dad?”

  Lately, Gran and Dad had discovered a mutual fondness for Scrabble. Gran might bitch and moan about Dad, claiming he worked her like a dog, but secretly she liked her son-in-law. She now spent her mornings helping him out by picking up the phone and guiding traffic in the waiting room, and in the afternoon helped out Mom at the library while Dad was on his own.

  “I like Scrabble,” she said. “Sue me.”

  “I think you like Dad,” she teased. “And Scrabble is just an excuse to spend more time with him.”