Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Sidekick. Purrfect Deseit. Purrfect Ruse [calibre 5.14.0]

“He said we could sit out in front,” Harriet repeated, unaware of Shanille’s consternation, or maybe extremely aware and eager to rub it in. “Next to the altar?”

“But that’s my spot!” said Shanille. “I always sit out in front during Mass. Everybody knows that that spot is reserved for Father Reilly’s cat, and I’m Father Reilly’s cat. Not you ,” she added, pressing a paw into Harriet’s chest. “ Me! ”

“Please take your paws off me,” said Harriet, who’s very particular when it comes to her precious fur being soiled by the paws of other cats—or human hands for that matter. Well, she has a point, of course. Who knows where those paws or hands have been, right?

“You’re lying,” said Shanille.

“No, I’m not. Vesta said we could sit right next to the altar.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Yes, she did!”

“No, she. Did. Not,” said Shanille, accentuating every word with another jab in Harriet’s chest.

Harriet pressed her lips together, and I could see that something was bubbling underneath the surface. Like a volcano, this particular cat was about to explode. I would have warned Shanille, but something told me she was beyond being reasoned with.

“If you touch me one more time…” Harriet began.

“Then what?”

“I will scratch you,” said Harriet simply.

Shanille laughed a throaty laugh. “You’ll do no such thing. I’m the leader of cat choir. If you scratch me, you’re out for good.”

“I swear to God, Shanille, you do not want to see me angry,” said Harriet, in the tone she likes to adopt when she’s about to skin a person alive and boil their remains.

“I’ll do whatever I want,” said Shanille, and gave my friend a shove that landed her on her tush.

“Oh, no, you didn’t,” said Harriet, and then, with a low growl, she hauled off and… actually gave Shanille’s snoot a light tap!

“Hey!” said Shanille, looking stunned.

“I warned you. You do not put your filthy paws on me.”

“Dooley,” I said, “I think I just saw that stork.”

“You did? Where?!” he said excitedly.

“Come, I’ll show you,” I told him curtly, and walked off with my friend. And even as we removed ourselves from the scene, I could hear the telltale sounds of a cat fight breaking out: the caterwauling, the screeching, and the fur being ripped to shreds.

“Poor Shanille,” said Dooley. “She was really looking forward to that wedding, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, I guess she was,” I said.

“So where’s the stork?” he said happily as he glanced around, then up at the trees and the night sky above, regarding those twinkling stars and that full moon with an expectant look in his eyes.

“Well…” I said as we paused at a nearby tree and I gave it a pointed look. “This is just the darndest thing. I’m sure I saw it sitting in this very tree just moments ago.”

“But… it’s not there anymore, Max.”

“No, I can see that. Why, shoot. Looks like we missed it.”

“Oh, darn,” said Dooley. “Now Odelia will have to wait a little longer for her firstborn.”

“Yeah, I guess she will,” I said. And as we walked on, I decided that cat choir was probably a bust, so we decided to head on home instead. And as we exited the park, and found ourselves out on the sidewalk, suddenly a familiar car drew to a stop at the curb, and the window rolled down.

“I caught a killer you guys!” Gran yelled from the car. “I caught my very first killer—all by my lonesome!”

“Not by your lonesome,” Scarlett corrected her friend’s rash statement. “I was right there with you, remember? We both caught him.”

“You caught a killer, Gran?” asked Dooley, admiration dripping from his words. “How did you do that?”

“Well, we just happened to be parked outside a known crack house, and we were about to go in and make a bust when this guy comes out, looking suspicious.”

“Very suspicious” Scarlett confirmed.

“He hopped into his car, and I managed to take a picture of the guy and the car.” She glanced down at a little notebook she always keeps handy when she’s on her nightly patrols. “Guy by the name of Joshua Curtis. Dolores looked up the license plate for me.”

“Joshua Curtis!” said Dooley. “But that’s Odelia’s client!”

“Odelia’s what?” asked Gran, much surprised.

“Odelia took on a client this morning,” I explained. “Unofficially, of course. Something about an infidelity case he wanted her to check out.”

Gran blinked and shared a look of consternation with her friend. “Well, looks like Odelia’s client just went and killed three people.”

Chapter 8

When the calls came in Odelia and Chase were seated side by side on the couch, Netflixing a romcom and enjoying this time together in post-wedding bliss. She still wasn’t completely used to the fact that she was now Mrs. Chase Kingsley, and that she was a married woman.

“Do you want another home-baked muffin, husband?” she asked.

“I would love one, wife,” said Chase with a grin. “Though to be absolutely honest, if I eat another one I’ll probably burst.”

“Me too,” Odelia admitted. “Though they did come out pretty great, husband.”

“I know, right?”

She settled herself against Chase, and purred, “When I married you I didn’t know I was marrying a baking prodigy… husband.”

“Beginner’s luck. I bet that when I try that second batch they’ll probably come out horrible.”

“Now, don’t say that. Don’t disabuse me of my sweet illusions that the man I married could, any time he wanted to, start a career as a baker.”

“Do you want to be married to a baker?”

“Nah, I love the fact that you’re a cop.”

And that’s when the phone rang—both their phones. Chase’s correspondent was Odelia’s Uncle Alec, and her own was her grandmother, who sounded a little breathless.

“Odelia!” she practically yelled into the phone, causing the latter’s offended ear to give a little lurch. “I’m so sorry, honey. If I’d known he was your client, I’d have kept my mouth shut, I swear!”

“What are you talking about?”

“The guy—your client—Joshua Curtis. How was I supposed to know!”

She sat up a little straighter. “What happened?”

“He came running out of that crack house that was on fire, acting all suspicious, so naturally I took a picture of the guy, and his car, and I sent it to Dolores. And now they’re on the lookout for him. Turns out he killed three people!”

“What?!” she cried, jerking up with a start.

It wasn’t long before she and Chase were out of their cozy jammies and into their regular street clothes and hurrying out the door.

“Triple homicide?” asked Chase as he slammed the car door shut and so did Odelia.

She nodded. “Turns out the guy they want for the murders is my so-called client.”

“The one who wanted to stop his best friend’s wife from having an affair?”

“Yup,” she said. “Better step on it.”

“I fully intend to,” he said, and did indeed do as he’d promised. They made record time and within ten minutes were parking across the street from the place that Joshua Curtis allegedly had tried to burn down to the ground—three people still inside.

The fire department was present, rolling up their hoses, and the street was a regular beehive of activity, firemen walking in and out of the building, as well as police officers.

Inside, they quickly met up with Odelia’s uncle, who looked a little sleepy, as if the phone call had roused him from a deep slumber. Charlene Butterwick was also there. As the mayor of Hampton Cove it was probably her duty to be present at these tragic events. She, too, looked a little sleepy, and an image flashed through Odelia’s mind of Uncle Alec and Charlene having been in the same position as Odelia and Chase just before, with both of them having fallen asleep next to one another on the couch.