Purrfect Crime

by Nic Saint

  “How do you reckon that?”

  “I just have a more loving personality, I guess. You have to admit that you can be something of a curmudgeon sometimes, Max. I mean, you live with Odelia and probably don’t appreciate what you’ve got. Since I don’t live with Odelia, but still get to spend a lot of time with her, I obviously appreciate her a lot more, which means I also love her a lot more.”

  “That’s just not true!” I said a little heatedly. “I appreciate Odelia just as much as you do, maybe even more, and I love her more because she’s my human, not yours.”

  Dooley raised his chin. “She may not technically be my human, but since I’m more lovable she loves me a lot more than she loves you.”

  “You’re more lovable? I’m more lovable! And Odelia loves me the most.”

  “She does not. She loves me the most!”

  “Does not!”

  “Does too!”

  “Not!”

  “Too!”

  “Guys, guys!” said Odelia, who must have overheard the discussion. She glanced at us through the rearview mirror. “Let’s keep it civil.”

  “Odelia, Dooley says he loves you more than me,” I complained. “But that’s not possible, is it?”

  “You’re arguing over who loves me more? Aww, that’s so sweet,” said Odelia.

  “I love you the most,” said Dooley, “which means I get to give you away, right?”

  “Give me away? Why would you want to get rid of me? I thought you just said you loved me.”

  “It’s a tradition. Marge told me all about it. When a woman gets married, the one who loves her the most gives her away to the guy she’s getting married to. And since you’re getting married to Chase, I want to be the one to give you away.”

  Odelia laughed. “Dooley, I’m touched that you would want to do that, but first of all, I’m not getting married anytime soon.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No, I’m not. And secondly, I’m pretty sure my dad would like to give me away. That’s also part of the tradition.”

  “Your dad?” asked Dooley, disappointed.

  “See?” I said. “I told you.”

  “You’re not getting married?” asked Harriet, also entering the discussion.

  “No, of course not. Who said anything about getting married?”

  “But… you were kissing Chase.”

  Odelia smiled indulgently. “Look, I like Chase. I like him a lot. And because I like him so much, I also enjoy kissing him. That’s what humans do. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to marry him.”

  “Oh,” said Harriet, looking confused. She’d obviously been watching the same goop as Dooley. Damn that Hallmark Channel. Putting all these weird ideas in cats’ heads.

  “I still think it’s disgusting,” Brutus muttered, making a face. “Yuck.”

  “Brutus!” Harriet cried. “It’s not disgusting. It’s beautiful.” She sighed. “It’s love.”

  “Well, not love, exactly,” I said. “It’s more a matter of hormones.”

  “Oh, it is, is it?” asked Odelia with a laugh.

  “Yeah. I don’t know how it works, exactly, but I’m pretty sure pheromones feature into the thing pretty heavily.” See? I don’t watch the Hallmark Channel but the Discovery Channel. That’s why I’m smart and the others are all dummies.

  “It’s not all about pheromones, Max,” said Odelia softly, and she got that faraway look in her eyes again. I didn’t know why she got that look, but I’m pretty sure it had something with hormones, too. Whenever humans act funny, hormones are your safest bet. Just trust me on that.

  We’d arrived home and Odelia dropped us off at the house. She walked in to get a bite to eat from the fridge and then installed us in front of the computer, so we could do ‘Internet searches’ to our hearts’ content. And just when Harriet had clicked on her first key, the doorbell rang. And as Odelia went to answer it, the glass sliding door opened and Gran waltzed in. “Is he here?” she asked in that croaky voice of hers.

  “Is who here?” I asked suspiciously. I just hoped Gran hadn’t set up some kind of date with a man in Odelia’s house. After all that kissing stuff back at the gym I didn’t know how much more of this human lovemaking thing I could take right now.

  “The UPS guy, of course. Who else?”

  Just then, Odelia returned with a bulky package, a puzzled look on her face. When she saw Gran, that puzzled look turned into one of concern. “Please tell me you didn’t order any more Donna Bruce stuff, Gran.”

  “Of course I ordered more Donna Bruce stuff,” Gran snapped. “I’m an old lady. I’m bored. I need to buy stuff so I can entertain myself. It’s what old people do.” She held up a bony finger. “And don’t give me that you’re-too-old-for-this-stuff crap. I get that enough from Tex. Now gimme.” And with these words, she snatched the package from Odelia’s hands and placed it on the living room table. In next to no time she ripped away the packaging and revealed the contents within.

  I’d jumped down from the desk that held the computer and onto the chair that gave me a better vantage point to examine this new package. What I saw frankly worried me. There was a black mask, a whip of some kind, a pair of handcuffs, something that looked like a paddle, and a fuzzy, fluffy thing that may or may not have been a tickler. Huh?

  Gran produced a fat chuckle and grabbed this new loot in her arms and started distributing it amongst the many pockets of her dress. “Pity Leo’s gone. He would have loved this stuff.”

  “What is it?” asked Dooley.

  She directed a keen look at him. “None of your business. You’re a little too young to know.”

  “Are you going to arrest someone with those handcuffs?” asked Harriet.

  “Sure. One hot stud—at least that’s what I hope.”

  “Gran,” said Odelia reproachfully. “You can’t keep doing this. Dad’s going to kill you when he finds out.”

  “Who’s going to tell him?”

  “He’s going to know when he looks at his credit card bill.”

  “They don’t itemize stuff. I’ll just tell him it’s adult diapers.”

  “He’s your doctor. He would know if you needed adult diapers.”

  “I’ll tell him it’s preventive. What?” she added when Odelia gave her a critical look. “It never hurts to be careful about these things.” She flicked the whip a few times, a look of relish on her wrinkled old face. “I’m gonna have so much fun!”

  And then, before we could ask her any more questions, she was gone—out the door quick as a flash.

  “I still don’t get it,” said Dooley. “That stuff is never featured on the Hallmark Channel.”

  “It’s not on the Discovery Channel either,” I said, equally puzzled. I turned to Odelia. “Is it featured on any channel?”

  “Yeah, are we missing something?” asked Dooley.

  Odelia smiled. “Oh, it’s on a channel, all right, but not one destined for babies like you. Now, are you going to help me out with this Donna Bruce thing or not?”

  Dutifully, we hopped down from the table and returned to our Internet search. Even with me and Dooley pooling our knowledge, gleaned from the Hallmark Channel and the Discovery Channel, there obviously was still a lot about the human experience that was alien to us. A lot of strange and wonderful things that were out there. But first… we had a murder to solve.

  Chapter 12

  Ransom Montlló lived in a dilapidated boarding house near the main road out of town. When Odelia and Chase arrived, a seedy-looking individual with a beer belly and a brown-bagged bottle of liquor in his hand sat playing fetch with his dog out on the front porch. He threw a stick in the direction of the road and the dog fetched it and returned it to the man’s feet. Each time the dog ran off, the man took a swig from his bottle, then bent down to pick up the stick and threw it away again.

  They mounted the creaky porch, avoiding the one broken step, and Chase brought out his police badge. “Are you the owner of this establishmen
t, sir?”

  “That, I’m not,” said the man, slightly slurring his words.

  “We’re looking for Ransom Montlló.”

  “That, I am,” said the man, and hiccuped. He frowned at Chase. “Am I in some kind of trouble, officer?” He held up his liquor bottle, wrapped in the brown paper bag. “This is not what it looks like.”

  “It’s not?”

  The man shook his head decidedly. “Apple juice. Just plain old apple juice.”

  “That’s fine,” said Chase, taking a seat next to the former producer. “I’m not interested in your juice, old-timer. My name is Chase Kingsley and this is Odelia Poole.”

  “Nice to meet you, missy,” said Ransom, tipping an imaginary cap in Odelia’s direction.

  “We’re looking into the murder of Donna Bruce.”

  The man’s face turned into a scowl. “Donna Bruce? Someone murdered that old hag?”

  “She wasn’t that old,” said Odelia.

  “But she was a hag,” said the man, nodding to add emphasis to his words.

  “And why is that, exactly?” asked Chase.

  “She went out and ruined me, didn’t she?”

  “What happened?” asked Odelia.

  “Well, she was going to be in one of my movies. You may have heard of it. A Star is Born.”

  Odelia frowned. “Wasn’t that with Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson?”

  “There’s also a version with Judy Garland and James Mason,” said Chase.

  She looked at him admiringly. “You know your classics.”

  “Big fan of old movies,” he intimated.

  “So we were shooting a new version,” said Ransom, cutting through their chitchat, “and I had personally tapped Donna Bruce for the lead. I thought she’d be just great.”

  “I didn’t know she could sing,” said Odelia.

  “Oh, she could sing all right.”

  “So she was really going to do this?” asked Odelia. “But I thought she retired from acting.”

  “This was way before that funny website she built,” said the former producer. “Way, way before, back when the name Donna Bruce conjured up images of wonderful movies, and not golden dildos and the like.” He chuckled freely, then dissolved into a coughing fit. When he came out of it, he continued, “So everything was set. We had our stars, we had our director, we had one of the major studios on board, and that’s when tragedy struck.”

  “A storm?” asked Chase. “A freak storm destroyed the sets?”

  “Not a storm.”

  “A stuntman died,” said Odelia knowingly. “Or a stuntwoman. Donna’s stunt double would have to be a woman, obviously.”

  “No one died,” said the man, shuffling annoyedly.

  “So what happened?” asked Chase.

  “If you will just let me finish I’ll tell you what the hell happened!”

  “I’m sorry,” said Chase. “Please continue.”

  “I will,” he said, throwing the detective a look of censure. “Donna Bruce walked out, that’s what happened. And since the studio was dead set on her, that was also the end of A Star is Born.”

  “Wait, she walked out of the movie?” asked Odelia.

  “That’s what I just said.” He raked his fingers through his wild mane of gray hair. “Said she was sick and tired of being an actress and she was going to start a family instead. So she walked out of what would have been the best part of her career.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “What could I do? I sued, of course!”

  “You sued Donna Bruce?”

  “Of course. She was ruining a movie I’d already sunk a big chunk of my own money in. So I sued.” He sagged a little. “And lost.”

  Odelia glanced around at the rundown porch, paint peeling everywhere, the clapboards crooked and rotten in places, and the porch creaky and on the verge of collapse. “And then you ended up here,” she said softly.

  The man nodded and took a swig from his ‘apple juice.’ “Lost everything. My production company, my marriage, my life. And I’ve got Donna Bruce to thank for it.”

  “It’s an odd coincidence that you ended up living not far from her, then,” said Chase.

  The man laughed a humorless, hacking laugh. “Me not living far from her? Her not living far from me! I was the first to discover Hampton Cove. Used to live down the lane from the Donna Bruce place, long before she ever moved here. This was when I was still a big shot in the movie business. I had a condo in New York, a mansion in LA, another mansion in Colorado, and a beach house in Florida.” He gestured at the old porch. “Now this is my home, and Flea over there is my best friend.”

  Flea, who’d patiently been waiting for Ransom to throw the stick again, his tail pounding the floor and his tongue wagging excitedly, gave a short bark. Ransom picked up the stick and threw it as far as he could aim it, which was a little too close to the road this time. A truck came roaring up, just as Flea hurtled into the road to pick up his stick.

  “Flea!” cried Ransom, rocketing up from his seat.

  But luckily the dog was smarter than his owner, for he deftly avoided the truck’s fender, waited patiently until he was safely out of the way, and then picked up his stick.

  Ransom sat back down again, shaking his head. “Dumb dog,” he muttered.

  Dumb human, Odelia thought, also shaking her head.

  “So where were you this morning between seven and eight, Mr. Montlló?” asked Chase.

  “Right here on the porch, sipping my juice,” said the producer. “Why do you want to know?”

  “That’s when Mrs. Bruce was murdered,” said Chase.

  “Murdered!” the producer cried. “Donna Bruce was murdered?!”

  “Didn’t we already establish that?” asked Chase with a frown.

  “Murdered!” muttered the producer, staring before him. Then a keen look came into his eyes. “So that’s why you’re here, bugging me with all these questions.” He thought for a moment. “If I were you, I’d take a long, hard look at the husband. Tad Rip. He was the main reason Donna pulled out of A Star is Born. Wanted his wife all to himself. Jealous of her career and jealous as hell of her co-stars.”

  “So jealous he forced her to stop acting?” asked Chase.

  “Pretty much. Couldn’t handle his wife being more successful than him, I guess.”

  Odelia shared a look with Chase. This was the second person who’d pointed at Tad Rip as a potential suspect.

  “Did anyone see you on your porch this morning at seven, Mr. Montlló?” asked Chase.

  “Of course.”

  “Who?”

  The man gestured at his dog. “Flea saw me. And he’s as honest as can be.”

  Chase grimaced. “I’m afraid I’m going to need a human witness, sir.”

  The man gestured around. “Ask anybody. They’ll all vouch for me. I never leave this porch. Heck, I almost live on this porch these days.”

  “Don’t you have any plans to return to the movie business?” asked Odelia.

  The man smiled a crooked smile. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of plans, honey, but no money to back them up. And ever since the Donna Bruce thing no friends to help me out, either.” He patted Flea’s back. “Except for Flea here. He’s been my loyal companion for years. Wouldn’t dream of deserting me, would you, old buddy?”

  The dog barked once, acknowledging his master’s words. For an ex-green beret, Ransom Montlló looked pretty harmless, Odelia decided. And what was more, he hardly looked capable of carrying out such a sophisticated murder. Stealing and transporting a beehive, breaking into Donna’s house, locking her into her sauna and siccing the bees on her? Not exactly his cup of tea.

  Chase seemed to feel the same way, for he thanked Mr. Montlló for his time, and then they were off.

  “I don’t think he did it,” Chase intimated as they returned to their cars.

  “I don’t think so either. And if he wanted to kill Donna, he would have done it years ago. And not way out her
e in the middle of nowhere with his brown paper bag and his dog called Flea.”

  They looked back at the boarding house and Ransom gave them a wave. Odelia waved back. No, he looked harmless enough, she reckoned.

  “Sad story, though. To be on top of the world one minute and down in the dumps the next.”

  “Yeah, almost like the story of A Star is Born,” Chase said. “Donna Bruce went on to become a big star with her website, while her mentor became a washout.”

  “Ransom was her mentor?”

  “Sure. Ransom Montlló was the man who gave Donna Bruce her very first shot at fame and stardom. He cast her in her breakout role. A prostitute with a heart of gold who gets involved with an honest man who tries to get her out of that racket.”

  “The remake of Pretty Woman?”

  “No. The remake of Irma la Douce. Though I prefer the original.”

  “Of course you do. So what’s next?” she asked, leaning against her car.

  “Now we talk to the ex-husband.” He tapped the side of his nose. “And if my intuition is right, he just might be our guy.”

  Chapter 13

  It took us a long time to find out anything from the Internet. Cats aren’t exactly equipped to work on computers. For one thing, we don’t come outfitted with a set of digits that make for good typing, and if you use your claws it’s easy to totally wreck a regular computer keyboard. So Harriet tried to use her paw pads, but that proved really hit and miss. And we were just about to give up, when Dooley saw a picture of a nice kitty on the screen and touched it with his paw.

  “Don’t touch the screen!” I yelled, but too late. And then the small picture of the kitty suddenly blew up into a big picture of the same kitty and we all stared at it.

  “What just happened?” asked Brutus.

  “I don’t know,” said Dooley. “I touched the screen and something changed.”

  “Do it again,” Harriet urged.

  So Dooley touched the screen again, careful not to use his claws, and the screen changed again, this time to a set of pictures of the same kitty posing up a storm. “So weird,” he said, staring from his paws to the screen. “Do you think I have magical paws? That must be it, right? I must have magical paws.” A look of absolute delight came over his face. “Imagine what I can do with my magical paws! Maybe everything I touch changes into something else!” And to try out this new theory of his, he immediately touched Harriet’s face.