by Nic Saint
“Which means all the Hampton Covians are talking about it,” Max said.
That was true enough. The Hampton Cove cat community was like a barometer of the human community. She blushed slightly. “So what are they saying, exactly?”
“Well, that the wedding will take place later this year, though it might be sooner rather than later because the first baby is already underway.” The gorgeous Persian screwed up her face. “What is a shotgun wedding, Odelia?”
Odelia’s blush deepened. “A shotgun wedding? Is that what they’re saying?”
All four cats nodded. “I think it means that everybody brings a shotgun to the wedding,” said Brutus knowingly.
“Don’t be an idiot,” said Max. “Why would anyone bring a shotgun to a wedding? That’s just dumb.”
“Who are you calling dumb, fatso? They’re obviously bringing shotguns to make sure nobody crashes the wedding. Duh.”
“Crashes the wedding?” asked Dooley. “Is that even a thing?”
“Didn’t you see that movie last week? Wedding crashers? Two guys go around crashing weddings and having a blast,” said Brutus.
“Until they fall in love and get married themselves,” said Harriet. “I thought it was the most romantic thing ever. Though I didn’t like that they portrayed Bradley Cooper as such a nasty person. I like Bradley Cooper. He’s so handsome and cute.”
“He’s not that handsome,” said Brutus. “His mouth is too big for his face.”
“It is not. His mouth is just the right size.”
“The right size for what?” scoffed Brutus. “To load a Big Mac in one bite?”
“Listen, you guys,” said Odelia, interrupting this fascinating discussion of Bradley Cooper’s face. “For one thing, Chase and I are not getting married. And for another, I’m not pregnant so there won’t be a shotgun wedding.”
“That’s too bad,” said Harriet, her face falling. “I was looking forward to being a bridesmaid.”
“That’s impossible,” said Max. “Cats can’t be bridesmaids. That’s just preposterous.”
Harriet narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying, Max? That I wouldn’t make a wonderful bridesmaid? For your information, I would be the perfect bridesmaid. I don’t even have to wear a dress. I’m beautiful just the way I am.”
Odelia smiled. “That’s true. And if I ever get married, you guys will all get to come.”
Max groaned. “Do I have to? I hate weddings. Everybody is always crying. Those things are even worse than funerals.”
“People are crying because they’re happy, Max,” said Odelia. “Those are happy tears.”
“I don’t get it,” said the blorange cat. “Why cry when you’re happy? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes, it does,” said Harriet. “You wouldn’t understand, though, Max. And that’s because you’re a Neanderthal.”
“No, I’m not,” said Max. “I’m a cat, not a Neanderthal.”
“What’s a Neanderthal?” asked Dooley.
“It’s a kind of old human,” said Max. “With a lot of hair and a big mouth.”
“Like Bradley Cooper,” said Brutus.
“Bradley Cooper is not a Neanderthal!” Harriet snapped. “Bradley Cooper is gorgeous.”
“More gorgeous than me?” asked Brutus, stung.
Harriet’s face softened. “Of course not, cutie pie. Nobody can be more gorgeous than you.”
“Maybe you should have one of those shotgun weddings,” Max grumbled. “So I can bring a shotgun and shoot myself.”
“We’re here,” said Odelia cheerfully, cutting off all this nonsense about a shotgun wedding. She just hoped those rumors hadn’t reached her mother’s ears. Nobody likes to hear about their daughter’s supposed pregnancy and forced wedding because of gossip. Then again, maybe it was a good thing. If people thought she and Chase were about to get married, she should probably take it as a compliment. Though the town’s gossip mill was obviously getting a little ahead of itself this time around.
True, there had been a lot of kissing lately, but things hadn’t progressed beyond that. Yet. Did she want them to go beyond that stage? Maybe. Did Chase want to? She had absolutely no idea. Chase was one of those strong, silent types. The ones that don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves. Beyond those kisses they had yet to address whatever it was that was going on between them. Heck, he hadn’t even asked her out. Maybe he never would? Maybe those kisses were just a way of showing his appreciation for all she’d done for the community? Maybe it was an NYPD thing: instead of shaking hands, NYPD cops simply kissed their colleagues. It was definitely not something she’d ever seen on NYPD Blue. Then again, they never showed everything on those shows.
She parked right behind her uncle’s squad car and got out, allowing the four cats to jump from their respective seats.
“Let’s go, guys,” she said. “You know the drill. Talk to witnesses. Try to find out what happened here.”
She watched the cats traipse up to the house and smiled. Her own personal feline detective squad. She wouldn’t know what to do without them.
She watched her uncle take off his sunglasses and take in their surroundings. Donna Bruce had done well for herself, that much was obvious. The house was built in hacienda style, with a low red-tile roof and stuccoed orange outer walls.
“Nice place,” said Uncle Alec admiringly. “Though more like something one would expect in the Hollywood Hills than out here in Hampton Cove.”
“Isn’t Donna originally from Los Angeles?”
“She is. She only moved out here to put some distance between herself and her ex-husband. And because her company is headquartered in New York.”
“This is such a coincidence,” Odelia said as she watched the police activity around the house. Half a dozen squad cars were haphazardly parked on the circular driveway, and an ambulance stood, lights flashing, indicating the coroner was already there.
“What is?” asked her uncle, hoisting his pants over his bulk and patting down his few strands of hair.
“Just this morning a package arrived from donna.vip for your mother.”
Chief Alec closed his eyes. “God, not again. I thought Marge put a stop to that nonsense.”
“What nonsense?”
“Didn’t she tell you? Your grandmother has been ordering those packages for weeks now. She’s addicted to that Donna crap. And the worst part? Your mom has been footing the bill as Vesta doesn’t have a credit card. Marge told me she’s up to five grand now.”
Odelia’s jaw dropped. “Five grand!”
“Yeah, for a bunch of useless stuff. According to Marge she even bought one of those steamers for her, um, well, you know what.”
Odelia frowned. “A vegetable steamer?”
Uncle Alec suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Not exactly. She uses it on her… business.”
“Her business?”
He heaved an exasperated groan. “Her lady parts, all right?”
Odelia smiled. “She bought a vaginal steamer?” Uncle Alec grumbled something under his breath as he stalked off. She hurried to keep up with him. “No wonder Mom is mad. That stuff must cost a fortune.”
“And it’s not as if she needs it,” said her uncle. “I mean, she’s seventy-five, for crying out loud. What does she need a vaginal steamer for?”
“Well, she does have a very active sex life.”
Uncle Alec winced. He directed a pleading look at his niece. “Please, Odelia. I don’t need to hear all that.”
Which was probably why Mom had allowed this buying frenzy to go on as long as it had. Nobody wanted to sit down with Gran and have a serious conversation about her sex life. It wasn’t a topic one simply launched into.
“I’ll talk to Gran,” she promised. “Tell her to ease up on the spending.”
“You do that,” her uncle grumbled.
They walked into the house and Odelia admired her surroundings. Donna Bruce had taste, that much was obvious. The foyer had a homey feel,
with its hardwood floors, soft pink wallpaper and white lacquered furniture. And as they progressed into the living room and then the kitchen, she had to admit she wouldn’t mind living in a place like this. Selling jade eggs and vaginal steamers had obviously been very lucrative for the founder of donna.vip.
They reached the spa area, where a small indoor pool awaited them, along with the sauna cabin where Donna’s housekeeper had found the body of her employer that morning.
“You better prepare yourself for a shock,” said Uncle Alec. “It’s not a pretty sight.”
She braced herself and stepped into the sauna. Donna Bruce was lying on the floor, partly covered by a towel, her face swollen beyond recognition. Every part of her body that was visible had suffered the same fate. The woman had literally been stung to death.
She swallowed. “How—how did they get the bees in here?”
Uncle Alec gestured at the fan that was placed in the ceiling. “They reversed the airflow and placed an entire batch of bees on top of it. The little beasties must have been pretty pissed off when they were propelled past the fan’s blades and into this extremely hot environment. They simply attacked the first thing they came into contact with. Which was Donna Bruce.”
“I’m guessing she died from anaphylactic shock,” said the coroner, who was standing in a corner, picking up the body of a dead bee and dumping it into a plastic baggie. Abe Cornwall was a shabbily-dressed man with frizzy gray hair but he was an ace medical examiner. “Though judging from the state of the body, she might have died from the venom itself. She must have sustained thousands of stings in a matter of minutes.”
“This entire cabin was full of bees when the housekeeper arrived,” Uncle Alec explained. “Thousands and thousands of them.”
“And there’s no question whether this was an accident or not?” asked Odelia.
“No way,” another male voice spoke.
She turned around with a smile, and got a small shock of pleasure when she found herself gazing into the gold-flecked chocolate eyes of Chase Kingsley. He filled the entire doorframe with his muscular physique, and the cabin with his powerful presence. “So it was definitely murder, huh?”
“Definitely,” said Chase with a smile of greeting.
“I’ll let you two kids come up with a theory as to who’s responsible,” said Uncle Alec. “I have to talk to the ex-husband about what to do with the kids.”
“The kids?” asked Odelia.
“Yeah.” Uncle Alec frowned at his notebook. “Sweetums and Honeychild. Good thing they weren’t here when it happened.”
“Oh, those poor babies,” said Odelia.
“Big babies,” said Uncle Alec. “Sweetums and Honeychild are six.” He shook his head. “Who gives their kid a name like that?”
“Donna Bruce,” said Chase, staring down at the victim. He glanced up at the chief. “So am I in charge of this thing, Chief?”
“Yes, you are,” said Chief Alec. “Along with Odelia—in an entirely unofficial capacity, of course.”
Chase gave her a grin. “Looks like the gang is back together, babe.”
She returned his smile. “Yay.”
Chapter 4
“Do you really think Odelia is getting married?” asked Dooley.
I shook my head. “No way. Odelia doesn’t lie. If she was getting married she would have told us. In fact I’m pretty sure we’d be the first to know.”
“But why is everybody saying she’s having this shotgun wedding?”
“People talk, Dooley. You know that and I know that. That’s what they do.”
He thought about this for a moment. “You know, you might be right, Max.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m always right. You should know that by now.”
We were walking around the back of the house. I don’t know what we were hoping to find, but at least something that would shed some light on what had happened here. And if we were really lucky, maybe even an eyewitness account of the murder with a nice description of the murderer. Humans might think they’re pretty smart by avoiding the attention of other humans when they’re out murdering each other, but they never give a second thought to the pets they encounter along the way.
Behind us, Harriet and Brutus were still engaged in their lover’s quarrel.
“I don’t see why you have to go and fall for this Bradley Cooper guy,” Brutus was saying. “Not only does he have the face of a Neanderthal but he’s human! Cats don’t fall for humans. That’s not natural, Harriet. And it’s humiliating for me as your boyfriend.”
“I just like his face,” said Harriet. “Is that so bad? He has a fascinating face.”
“A human face,” Brutus pointed out. “You can’t like a human face, sweet pea.”
“I can, too. You can’t tell me what I can and can’t like, Brutus. I’m a free cat.”
“Oh, is that why you were kissing Max the other day? Huh?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, God. Not again! I wasn’t kissing Max. I already told you what happened.”
“Yeah, you stubbed your toe and you tripped and fell and ended up hitting Max’s lips with yours. I know what you told me. I’m just telling you I’m not buying it. Who trips and hits another cat’s lips? That’s just crazy! Besides, why did you keep on kissing him for a full minute after that?”
She heaved an exasperated groan. “Like I said this morning, I thought he was you, sugar lump. Until I discovered he wasn’t and then I stopped.”
Brutus shook his head. “I don’t know, bunny duck. I just don’t know.”
“Oh, buttercup,” she said, taking his head in her paws. “You know I only love you. My very own cuddly daddy.”
At this, Brutus seemed to relent, his scowl melting away like butter on the griddle. “Oh, my snookums,” he purred. “Sweetie cakes.”
“Chocolate bunny.”
“Smoochie poo.”
And then, inevitably, there was smooching. A lot of smooching.
Dooley moaned. “Why do they have to do that right under our noses?!”
“Because they only have eyes for each other, Dooley,” I said. “Wait until you’re in love.”
“I’m never falling in love again,” said Dooley bitterly. “Love is a curse.”
We managed to put some distance between ourselves and the loved-up couple, and a good thing, too. Brutus has this competitive streak. Whenever there is a murder to solve, he wants to solve it first, and he doesn’t care what he has to do to ‘win.’
We’d arrived in the backyard and I raised an eyebrow in admiration. The yard was perfectly maintained, the grass as smooth as a pool table. An actual pool had been installed, with an actual pool house and a nice row of chaise lounges placed right next to it. It all looked very inviting, or it would have if Dooley and I were human. As it was I didn’t care about pools. Not that I’m scared of pools. I just don’t like that they’re full of water. Water is wet.
And that’s when I saw them: two poodles, one brown, one beige, were lying on top of the chaise lounges, their eyes closed, enjoying some R&R.
“I think we might have our first witnesses,” I told Dooley, gesturing with my head to the two mutts.
“Dogs?” asked Dooley. “Why does it always have to be dogs? Why can’t rich people keep cats instead?”
“Because they think dogs are great for keeping the burglars away.”
“Cats keep burglars away,” Dooley argued. “In fact we’re better equipped for the task. We can see in the dark. Dogs can’t. And we have sharp claws. Dogs have those silly excuses for claws.”
“Dogs can bite,” I reminded him. “And they bark.”
“I meow! Have you heard my meow? I meow up a storm.”
“Not exactly the same, Dooley.”
The dogs had spotted us and had curled their upper lips up in a snarl, making that annoying threatening noise at the back of their throats. As if that was supposed to impress us. Puh-lease.
“Hey there, guys,” I said, walking up to th
e duo. “How’s it hanging?”
“And who are you?” asked the brown poodle, none too friendly.
“My name is Max,” I said by way of introduction. “You may have heard of me. I’m an ace feline detective. And I’m here to solve the murder.”
“Murder? What murder?” asked the beige one.
“The murder of your human? Don’t tell me no one told you.”
“Our human wasn’t murdered,” said the brown one. “She’s just sleeping. In the sauna. Isn’t that right, Rex?”
“That’s right, Rollo. She’s just taking a little nap in the sauna. I just saw her.”
“And I saw her, too.”
“She’s not sleeping,” said Dooley, venturing up with some trepidation. “She’s dead.”
Rex and Rollo shared a look of amusement, then burst out laughing. “No, she’s not,” said Rex. “You silly cat. You’re funny. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that humans have to sleep just like we do?”
“Yeah, and when they sleep they look dead but they aren’t,” Rollo added.
“Look, I’ve had a human since forever,” I said. “So you don’t have to teach me the difference between a dead human and a sleeping human. I know the difference. One is breathing and the other ain’t. And for your information, your human isn’t sleeping—she’s dead.”
“Cats,” said Rex, shaking his head. “They’re a real hoot.”
“Yeah. Think they know it all.”
They placed their chins on their front paws again and stared at us, quickly losing interest.
“So tell me why there are so many cops around?” I said, not giving up.
Rex shrugged. “Donna likes to invite people.”
“Yeah, Donna’s a real people person. Always hosting parties.”
“For the police?” I asked.
“Sure,” said Rollo. “Why not? Police are human, too. They like to party.”
“Only they’re not partying now, are they?” I asked, exasperated. “They’re examining the dead body of your human, trying to figure out who made her that way.”
Rex and Rollo shared another knowing look, then shook their heads with a smirk. “Cats,” Rollo repeated. “You gotta love them.”