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Now he was positively beaming. “Best idea ever,” he said, and then they, too, left the building.

For a moment, silence reigned, and then Harriet said, “I can’t believe they forgot about us!”

“Well, at least they didn’t leave us without something to eat,” Brutus pointed out.

Silver linings, people. Life is all about recognizing the silver linings. And sometimes, just sometimes, those silver linings consist of raw fish—lots and lots of raw fish!

THE END

You probably noticed that I kind of glossed over the actual wedding. The good news is that you can read all about those missing moments in Purrfect Wedding, a free story for newsletter subscribers. Sign up here: nicsaint.com/news

Purrfect Deceit

The Mysteries of Max - Book 32

Chapter 1

We were in Odelia’s office doing what we do best: having a refreshing nap. Not that napping is all we do, mind you. Sometimes we doze, and sometimes we even sleep. Dooley and I occupied one corner of the office, Harriet and Brutus another. Recently a sort of disagreement had broken out between the two factions that make up Odelia’s cat contingent and I can only blame The Wedding for this frankly embarrassing fracas.

A wedding had taken place in Las Vegas, and Odelia and Chase Kingsley had officially been declared husband and wife. It had been one of those shotgun weddings, though fortunately no shotguns had featured into the thing, and a good thing, too, I should say.

The moment we returned from Vegas however, two things happened that caused a kind of rift: first off, a great number of people who’d heard through the grapevine about the wedding were vocally displeased, and didn’t mind expressing this displeasure to one and all. As Odelia’s cats we more or less bore the brunt of this displeasure, as our fellow felines in the local community turned to us to tell of their annoyance with the way the whole thing had gone down, and this naturally weighed on all of our minds.

Harriet, fed up with all this criticism, which she felt she didn’t deserve, figured Dooley and I were mostly to blame, as we should have used our influence to discourage Odelia from going through with her plan, even though at the time Harriet had thought it was a great idea—something she’d since conveniently forgotten, I might add.

And then there was the second dispute that soured things to some extent.

“The stork, Max!” said Dooley. “It’s the stork! I can see him! Quick, let’s catch him before he takes off again!”

I looked in the direction indicated but unfortunately didn’t see any sign of said stork.

“Um… I’m afraid I don’t see any stork, Dooley,” I said therefore.

He stared at the window, through which a sliver of blue sky was visible. “Oh,” he said finally. “I thought I saw it. Must have been some other bird.”

“Will you please shut up about your stork,” Harriet yelled from her side of the room.

“Yeah, some of us are trying to take a quiet nap,” Brutus chimed in.

“I’m sorry,” said Dooley. “It’s just that… you know how important it is, you guys. And I think we should all be on the lookout for that stork twenty-four seven.”

“You be on the lookout,” said Harriet. “Brutus and I have better things to do.”

“We could take shifts,” Dooley suggested, turning a hopeful face to me. “I could watch out while you take a nap, and you could watch out while I take a nap. And vice versa?”

“Sure, Dooley,” I said reassuringly. “Don’t you worry about a thing. You take your nap and I’ll make sure that stork doesn’t pass by this office without me attracting its attention and making sure it does what it’s supposed to do.”

“And what’s that?” asked Brutus. “Take a dump and fly off again?” He seemed to think his joke was very funny, for he suddenly broke into uproarious laughter.

“You know how important this is, Brutus,” said Dooley, sounding a little hurt. “If we don’t catch that stork, Odelia will never have her baby, and then she’ll be very sad.”

“Oh, Dooley,” said Harriet with a sigh, even as Brutus shook his head.

“What?” said Dooley. “It’s true, though, isn’t it? This is very, very important.”

“Absolutely, Dooley,” I said with a smile. As long as Dooley was on the lookout for the stork delivering Odelia’s baby there was no need for me to go into all that birds and bees stuff again, something I thoroughly dislike, I don’t mind telling you.

“What are you guys talking about?” asked Odelia, busily typing at her computer.

“Oh, nothing special,” I said, and Dooley gave me a fat wink.

So you can probably see what the issue was, can’t you: ever since we got back from Vegas, Dooley has been very anxious about the baby he was sure was about to land any moment now, courtesy of that mysterious stork. He’d pretty much equated marriage with the arrival of a bundle of joy from the heavens, and since Odelia was so incredibly busy all the time, he was afraid she’d miss the stork’s arrival and her chance at having a baby—or two.

Harriet and Brutus, on the other hand, weren’t all that excited at the prospect of an addition to the family, though in all honesty it was mostly Harriet who was very vocal in expressing her views on the subject. Not when Odelia could hear her, mind you. The last thing she wanted was to antagonize our human and cause that incessant flow of kibble to suddenly dry up, something that was entirely Odelia’s prerogative, of course.

A knock at the door sounded, and when we looked up we saw that a man had arrived sporting an anxious look on his face.

“Miss Poole?” he said hesitantly. “Miss Odelia Poole?”

“Yep, that’s me,” said Odelia, looking up from her computer. “What can I do for you?”

The man hesitantly entered the office and took a seat across from the intrepid reporter. He was a man in his early thirties I would have guessed, a little thin on top, who wore thick-framed glasses and had a mephistophelian beard going on. The kind of beard Robert Downey Jr. rocks when he’s flying around dressed as a man of iron. Unfortunately while such a beard becomes Mr. Downey well, it didn’t do much for this man’s doughy face and pasty pallor. Then again, we can’t all be Hollywood stars, now can we?

“A friend of mine said you’re the person to talk to when some delicate issue crops up,” the man said, after shuffling back and forth on his chair for a few beats, while Odelia patiently waited for him to launch into an explanation for why he’d decided to intrude upon her precious time.

“A delicate issue?” asked Odelia, frowning slightly. “What delicate issue, Mr…”

“Curtis,” said the man. “Joshua Curtis. Um…” He glanced around, as if to make sure they wouldn’t be disturbed, and conveniently ignored all four of us, dismissing us as not relevant, as most humans do. He scooted a little forward on his chair, then said, “Can I rely on your absolute discretion, Miss Poole? This is, as I said, a matter of the utmost delicacy.”

“Yes, of course,” said Odelia. She gave the man a smile intended to put him at ease. “While I’m not an attorney, and I can’t fall back on the old client confidentiality thing…”

“Or a priest,” I muttered.

“I will of course treat whatever you want to tell me with the necessary discretion.”

Mr. Curtis nodded, then seemed to screw up his courage and said, “A friend of mine is in trouble, Miss Poole.”

“Just call me Odelia,” said our fair-haired human who, last I checked, was as svelte as she’s always been, which meant that in spite of Dooley’s ministrations no baby bump was growing. She flashed more of that encouraging smile of hers at the man, the smile that makes people in all walks of life entrust her with their deepest confidences.