Purrfect Crime

by Nic Saint

  “I’m not telling you to smoke, honey. I’m telling you to take a break.”

  “Take a break?”

  “Don’t look at me as if I just suggested you to go and harpoon some whales. Taking a break is a perfectly legitimate solution to getting your brain unstuck.”

  “But I still have a ton of work. There’s the county fair, the new addition to the marina, the paddleboard competition—”

  “Those can all wait. As your editor what I want you to do right now is to take a break. Get away from your computer for a couple hours and take your mind off things for a while.”

  “You’re a weird editor, Dan,” she said. “Most editors prefer to work their reporters to death.”

  He pointed a stubby, crooked finger at her. “And that’s exactly what I don’t want you to do. I like you too much to see you work yourself to death, Odelia. And I know from experience that sometimes all you need is some perspective.”

  “And a break.”

  “And a break. So shut down that computer of yours, get out of here, and don’t let me see you for at least the next couple of hours.”

  “So what do you suggest I do?”

  He threw up his hands. “Go for a walk! Take a swim. Sit on the beach and look at the damned tourists for all I care. But most importantly, don’t think about the case!”

  Which, as she soon discovered, was easier said than done. She’d gone for a walk, and had walked as far as the boardwalk, taken a seat on one of the benches the town council had been so kind to install, and had stared out across the ocean for a bit. The water was pretty choppy, and kids were squealing happily as they jumped into the cresting waves. And she’d been sitting there for twenty minutes, doing her absolute darndest to empty her mind and NOT think about the case and NOT check her phone, when a deep voice sounded beside her.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “Oh, God,” she said. “Am I happy to see you.”

  Chase took a seat next to her on the bench. “Not that I’m not flattered, but any special reason?”

  “I’ve been trying hard NOT to think about the case.”

  He grinned. “Which is just about the best way to think about the case.”

  “It is?”

  “Of course. What if I tell you NOT to think about pink elephants?”

  Suddenly, all she could think about were pink elephants. “I see what you mean.”

  “Who gave you this sterling piece of advice?”

  “Dan. Said if I didn’t get out and take a break I was never going to get anywhere.”

  “Same here,” Chase said with a deep sigh. “Only it was your uncle who kicked me out.”

  “So here we are. Marooned on the beach.”

  “Yep. You can say that again. So why don’t we try NOT talking about the case, huh?”

  She laughed. “You’re funny, do you know that, Detective Kingsley?”

  “You take that back right now,” he said with a grin. “Police detectives are not supposed to be funny. It is not in the job description.”

  “But you’re not a detective now, are you? You’re on a break, and so am I.”

  So they sat there for a bit, a convivial silence descending upon them, when suddenly a woman started screaming nearby for help. Immediately, both she and Chase were on their feet.

  They reached the woman, who was cradling a little girl in her arms. The girl’s breathing was labored and her face deathly pale.

  “What happened?” Chase asked urgently.

  “She was stung by a bee,” the woman wailed.

  “She’s in shock,” Odelia determined. “Did you call 911?”

  “I did,” said the woman, tears streaming down her face.

  Chase checked the girl. “She’s not breathing,” he said, and immediately started CPR. Odelia took out her phone and called her dad. He just might beat the ambulance. She watched Chase perform the life-saving procedure and when he announced that she was going to be fine, she breathed a sigh of relief and so did the girl’s mother. Just then, her dad’s car pulled up, and he came hurtling down the stone steps and plowed through the powdery sand until he’d reached them. He was carrying his black doctor’s bag and sank down onto his knees next to the girl.

  “She was stung by a bee,” Odelia told him.

  He nodded and went to work. She watched how he took out a needle and proceeded to inject the girl. “Epinephrine,” he told the mother. “She went into anaphylactic shock. Has this happened before?”

  “No, never. But she’s never been stung before either.”

  “Some people are allergic to bee stings.” He carefully monitored the girl’s pulse and checked her vital signs. “How do you feel, honey?” he asked when she began to pull through.

  She coughed. “I feel nauseous,” she said thickly.

  “That’s normal,” he assured her. “As is the swollen tongue and lips. Does your tummy hurt?”

  The girl nodded. “Yes, it does.”

  He smiled at her. “You’ll be just fine, darling. What’s your name?”

  “Jessica.”

  “I’m Doctor Tex, and you’re a very brave girl, Jessica. You’re doing great.” He turned to Jessica’s mother. “She’ll feel the effects for a couple of days, but they’ll wear off soon enough.”

  “Oh, doctor,” the woman said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Thank my daughter,” said Tex. “She’s the one who called.”

  “Thank Chase,” said Odelia. “He’s the one who performed CPR.”

  The woman thanked all of them, and gave Chase a big old hug before enveloping her little girl in her arms and smothering her with kisses. “I thought I lost you,” she sniffed.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” Jessica said, embarrassed at the display of affection in front of a bunch of strangers. “It was just a tiny, little prick. Though that bee sting really hurt.”

  In the distance, the sound of an approaching ambulance could be heard. It pulled up right next to Odelia’s dad’s car and two paramedics jumped out and made their way over. Odelia and Chase watched as the EMTs gave Jessica a thorough checkup.

  “That was a close call,” said Chase. “She’d completely stopped breathing for a minute there.”

  She placed a hand on his arm. “You saved that girl’s life, Chase. You’re a hero.”

  “Just doing my duty,” he muttered. “Anyone would have done the same.”

  “Not everyone. Didn’t you notice how you were the only one who made an effort?”

  “Not many people know CPR,” he admitted. “Though probably they should.”

  Dad joined them, still carrying his little black bag. “She’ll be fine,” he announced. “Spirited little thing, isn’t she?”

  “She sure is,” Odelia agreed as she watched the girl animatedly talk to the paramedics and the one lifeguard who’d finally decided to put in an appearance. She looked like she was enjoying all this attention, and demanded her mother take a bunch of pictures with her phone.

  “Reminds me of something,” Dad said.

  “Me too. Donna Bruce,” Odelia said.

  “No, something a colleague once told me. Some woman who wanted to try apitherapy on her daughter, who was suffering from rheumatoid arthritis.”

  “Apitherapy?” Chase asked.

  “Bee sting therapy. The venom of bees purportedly alleviates the effects of the arthritis. Unfortunately the girl turned out to be allergic to bees, just like Jessica over there.”

  “What happened?” asked Odelia.

  “She died. When the mother realized what was going on, she called 911, but too late.”

  “That’s a horrible story,” said Chase.

  “When was this?”

  “Oh, I must have heard this story… about six, seven years ago? I think it was at one of those conferences. There’s a lot of bar talk when a bunch of medical professionals get together.”

  “There’s a lot of bar talk when any professionals get together,” said Chase. “Or non-professionals fo
r that matter.”

  For some reason, the story rang a bell with Odelia. “Where did this happen?”

  Dad frowned. “I don’t remember exactly. I want to say… Cleveland?”

  Cleveland… Odelia wondered why this story resonated with her so much, but before she could think things through, the EMTs wandered over and started discussing what happened to Jessica with her dad. She checked her watch and decided it was probably time she headed back to the office. Dan had told her to take a break, but she still had a ton of work to do. Chase seemed to feel the same way, for he asked if he could drop her off somewhere.

  As he drove her back to the Hampton Cove Gazette, her mind drifted back to the story her dad had told them. Bees. This whole thing revolved around bees. But how? And why?

  Chapter 29

  We were home again, Dooley and me. We’d done all our usual haunts: the hair salon, the police station, the alleys and back alleys of Hampton Cove, talking to other cats, but they’d yielded no results. On top of that, I was tired. Subsisting on diet food like I did, I tired easily these days and all I wanted was to take a nap and float off into oblivion.

  Unfortunately when we walked in through the glass sliding door, Harriet and Brutus were still there, like a couple of unwanted guests you just can’t seem to get rid of.

  “And? What did you find?” I asked, jumping up onto the couch and settling down in my usual spot.

  Harriet merely frowned, as if I’d asked her the wrong question.

  “Nothing,” Brutus replied in her stead. “Bupkis. Diddly squat. Jack shit.”

  “Brutus!” Harriet snapped. “Language.”

  “It’s true though, isn’t it?” asked Brutus, whose long surfing session seemed to have galvanized him. “I know everything about Justin Bieber’s tattoos and even which kidney Selena Gomez had implanted but I still know precious little about who offed Donna Bruce.”

  Harriet lifted her chin. “We just have to keep on looking. It’s only a matter of time before we hit on the telling clue.”

  “Not by surfing that darned Interweb we won’t. How many times can you read about Kim’s Paris attack? Seriously, I’m done.” And to show us he meant business, he hopped down from the computer table and stretched and yawned.

  “Brutus! We’re not finished yet.”

  “I’m sorry, toots. I would tell you I cared about how much weight Mama June lost but I don’t.”

  Harriet’s ears colored. “I’ve been looking at other stuff, too.”

  “Right. What Honey Boo Boo looks like these days. I’m a cat, honey munch. I don’t care about that stuff. What I do care about is treating myself to a nice piece of meat at regular intervals, lounging on the couch with my precious—which is you, by the way—and sneaking around the neighborhood after dark, chasing critters and fighting off trespassers. So if you care to join me—which I sincerely hope you do—you’re welcome. If you prefer to find out what the Real Housewives of Nowhereville are up to, that’s fine, too. But don’t expect me to stick around, cause I won’t.”

  Harriet looked shocked after this unexpected harangue. “Brutus,” she muttered brokenly.

  “Now what’s it gonna be, sugar puss?”

  Her blush had deepened. “Brutus, you’re suddenly so… dominant.”

  “A tom’s gotta do what a tom’s gotta do. Now are you with me or not?”

  “Brutus,” she breathed, deserting the world of reality TV and dropping down from the computer table. She stalked up to her beau, her tail trembling wildly. “Oh, Brutus…”

  Brutus grinned at me and gave me a wink. “Watch and learn, fatso. Watch and learn.”

  I responded with an eyeroll. So the old Brutus was back, huh? Of course he was. He’d just been suffering from a temporary weakness, as was to be expected.

  “We’re hitting the town, boys,” Brutus announced when Harriet had sidled up to him and was rubbing herself provocatively against his flank. “Don’t wait up for us.”

  And with these words, the revolting couple was off, leaving Dooley and me reeling. Well, Dooley was reeling. I wasn’t.

  “Why can’t I be more like Brutus, Max?” Dooley lamented. “If I could be more like Brutus maybe Harriet would like me too. And then I’d be the one who took her out on the town.”

  “Do you really want to take Harriet out on the town?”

  “Of course I do! She’s so…” He sighed forlornly. “… wonderful.”

  “Oh, Dooley,” I muttered, and closed my eyes. I only woke up when something was poking me in the side. I tried to slap it away but the poking only intensified.

  “Max! Max, wake up!”

  “I’m a cat, Dooley. I’m always awake,” I reminded him. Though as a matter of fact I’d actually been sleeping soundly, dreaming of that nice piece of steak Dooley had stolen from me. “What is it?” I finally asked, reluctantly abandoning my dream. If I couldn’t eat steak, at least I could dream about it. As far as I know, dreams aren’t fattening. Or are they?

  “I think I found something,” Dooley announced.

  “If it’s not meat I don’t want to know,” I muttered, and closed my eyes again.

  “It’s about Hillary.”

  “I don’t care about politics, Dooley.”

  When he didn’t respond, I opened my eyes again and found him staring at me. “What do you mean you don’t care about politics?”

  “Hillary Clinton. Donald Trump. I just don’t care.”

  “Who are Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump?”

  “My sentiments exactly. Now leave me be. I have to conserve my strength. I’m on a diet.”

  “Poor Hillary Davies lost her daughter a couple of years ago.”

  “She did, huh? That’s terrible,” I muttered, trying to go back to sleep.

  “I was surfing the web, typing in the names of all the suspects in the Donna Bruce murder case and that’s what came up.”

  “Terrible tragedy,” I murmured.

  “Oh, and they’re doing a remake of Star Cars, only without Zelda Yoke this time.”

  “Too bad.”

  “And Dexter Valdès is writing his autobiography. It’s called Life with a Tiny Wiener.”

  “Very tempting.”

  “And Ransom Montlló is setting up a new version of A Star is Born, only this time it’s an indie production, made with local talent and featuring Ransom himself and his dog Flea in the lead.”

  “That’s just great. Now if you could just let me—”

  “Hey, you guys!” Odelia cried, walking in. “I’m home.”

  I groaned in agony. Why was it suddenly so hard to get some sleep around here?

  “Hey, Odelia,” Dooley said with a smile. “I’ve just discovered a whole new bunch of clues.”

  Odelia was immediately interested, which just told me how desperate she was. Obviously her investigation was going nowhere, same way ours was. Odelia listened patiently as Dooley rattled off his list of ‘clues’ while I tried to drown out the droning sound of his voice. Then, suddenly, he must have said something interesting, for Odelia uttered a startled cry and jumped up from the couch like a rocketing pheasant, grabbed her purse and was out the door in a flash. She briefly returned to shout, “You guys just solved this case!” and then she was gone again.

  I stared at Dooley, who seemed ecstatic.

  “We just solved the case, Max! We solved the case!”

  “We did?”

  “Didn’t you hear Odelia? We found Donna’s murderer!”

  “So who is it?”

  Dooley’s exuberance waned. “Um… I don’t know.”

  I shrugged, and went right back to sleep. Humans. They’re all nuts.

  Chapter 30

  Odelia pressed her lips together in a grim expression. She had a pretty good idea what had happened and who was responsible for the murder of Donna Bruce, and as usual her cats had provided her with the telling clue. And as she drove over to Donna’s house, the old pickup hurtling along the road and kicking up spray, she pushed t
he engine to the max. It whined and rattled in protest but she didn’t care. She had to reach the house before it was too late and the bird had flown.

  A snippet of conversation had drifted back into her memory. Donna’s house was going to be put up for sale, her uncle had told her. Tad had no use for it as he was moving back west with the boys after the funeral. The house was going to be emptied out, the most valuable stuff shipped to LA and the rest sold locally or simply thrown away. When she and Chase had found Zelda Yoke asleep in Donna’s bed she’d already noticed a lot of stuff was missing, which meant cleanup was well underway. And she knew exactly who was in charge.

  When she arrived at the house she saw that the gate was wide open so she didn’t hesitate and drove her pickup up the driveway and parked next to the red Fiat that stood with its rear end backed up to the front door, its trunk open.

  She walked up to the house, the thought of calling Chase briefly flitting through her mind. But she wasn’t entirely sure her hunch was right, and if it wasn’t she didn’t want to inconvenience Chase.

  She moved into the foyer and called out, “Hello? Anybody here?”

  The sound of her voice echoed hollowly in the empty space. They hadn’t lost any time, as she saw most of the furniture had already been moved out. She must have just missed the moving crew.

  She headed deeper into the house, past the living room and kitchen and into the fitness area. An indoor pool displayed a perfectly tranquil surface, and she could only imagine how many laps Donna must have swum in the chlorinated water. She wouldn’t mind owning her own private pool someday, actually. Must be fun to take a swim before breakfast every day.

  She took a peek inside the gym, where the equipment had been dismantled and moved out. Only a few loose weights lay around on the floor, and instruction posters for the best posture still decorated the walls. There were even a few posters of Donna in her prime, back when she’d starred in Car Rigs. The former actress posed in full star warrior costume, defiantly staring into the camera, a collection of freakishly weird space creatures collected at her feet.

  And that’s when she heard a noise. It wasn’t loud. Just a footfall. She looked up in alarm.