Ник Сайнт: Purrfect Fool. Purrfect Fitness. Purrfect Setup

And I said, “Wait, what?”

The fly shrugged and said, “Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘Fly on the wall’ before? Well, I can be that fly for you, cat.”

So I said, “Sure. Why not?”

Anything to get rid of this fly. Now if only I could get rid of my housemates, but somehow I had a feeling this wasn’t in the cards.

Chapter 3

The life of a fly is often a pretty lonely life—and a short one, too. So Norm, as he buzzed off on his mission, was actually happy with this change of scenery. His brethren and sistren might content themselves by eating dirt, but Norm was that rare fly who had, from the moment he was born, entertained higher aspirations. He’d always envisioned himself as that rare breed of fly: the adventurous type. And overhearing those cats speculating about their humans, Norm had smelled an opportunity and grabbed it.

So first he buzzed off in the direction of the house next door, where that old woman had disappeared to, and decided to pick up some little tidbits of raw intelligence there, just like James Bond would, if James Bond was about half an inch in diameter and consisted of an exceedingly hairy body, six hairy legs, two compound eyes and some extra-sensitive antennae. Though in all honesty all that Norm had in common with James Bond was a hairy chest and that can-do attitude your average British spy has in spades.

And he was in luck, as Grandma Muffin had just grabbed her purse and was on her way out the door, so he simply followed in her wake, hoping it would lead to something.

He landed on top of her head, before being rudely swatted away—the life of a fly consists mainly of being swatted away—and ducked into her car just as she did.

“Stupid fly,” Grandma Muffin muttered as she gave Norm one of her trademark dark looks, then started up the engine, and floored the accelerator, causing the car to lurch away from the curb at a much higher rate of speed than traffic cops like to see.

Moments later, it seemed, they were already cruising through downtown Hampton Cove, and when the older lady steered her car into an underground parking garage, Norm was buzzing with anticipatory glee. Looked like he was in for a real treat!

Maybe a meeting with some Deep Throat type informant? A showdown in the bowels of what looked like a boutique hotel? He didn’t know what would follow, but had a feeling it was going to be good. So it was with a slight sense of disappointment that he watched Grandma Muffin simply park her car, get out and slam the door then walk off.

They took the elevator up to the hotel lobby, and once again Norm’s hopes soared: a secret meeting in one of the hotel rooms with a foreign spy? A dead drop in one of the hotel’s garbage bins of some secret documents? So when the old lady Max called ‘Gran’ met up with a gorgeous redhead with plunging décolletage in the hotel lobby, and the both of them walked into the dining area, he knew this was it. The redhead was probably a Russian spy, here to hand over the secrets to the Russian rocket program, or maybe even spike Grandma’s drink with a little-known nerve agent or truth serum!

So when both women took a seat in the outside dining area and ordered drinks from a suspicious-looking waiter— a Korean spy? A Chinese double agent?—he was on the lookout for the little vial containing the deadly nerve agent, and ready to warn Gran!

“We gotta do something, Scarlett,” said Gran. “We have got to stop this wedding.”

“But why?” said the woman named Scarlett, tossing her red curls across her shoulders. She was dressed in a provocatively cleavaged red dress and red high heels, her lips a very bright Scarlett and looking every bit the sexy Russian secret agent.

“Why? Are you kidding me? They’re going to ruin Odelia’s wedding!”

“I think it’s pretty cute. And you can always make it a double wedding,” said Scarlett, taking a sip from her drink—a flat white, if Norm had followed the proceedings closely. So far no little vials with deadly nerve agents were in evidence but that could happen any moment now.

“Trust me on this, Scarlett. Alec wouldn’t be getting married if he wasn’t being coerced—if Charlene wasn’t putting a knife to his throat.” She slapped the table, causing her own drink—hot cocoa with plenty of cream, from the looks of it—to dance up and down. “That woman’s got something on my son and I want to know what it is.”

“Isn’t it possible that they simply love each other and want to celebrate that love by tying the knot?” asked Scarlett, who was clearly a romantically inclined Russian spy.

“Oh, Scarlett, Scarlett,” said Gran. “I see she’s gotten to you, too.”

“Nobody’s ‘gotten’ to me, Vesta. I just think they make a damn fine couple, and I wish them all the future happiness in the world, and frankly I think you should, too.”

“He’s too old to get married!”

“He’s only, what, fifty-something?”

“I’m telling you Alec would never get married if he wasn’t being hoodwinked. And I want to know what that woman is holding over him.”

Scarlett shrugged. “Can only be one thing.”

Vesta gave her a scathing look. “You’ve got a one-track mind, Scarlett.”

“What? I’m telling you—in my experience there’s only one thing that would make a man want to propose marriage to a woman and that’s—”

“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it.”

“Sex! What else?”

“I’m the man’s mother, Scarlett!”

“So? There are certain realities you just have to face, Vesta. Charlene is an attractive woman, and I’m sure she’s got assets that would make any man happy to explore them.”

Gran buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God.”

“It’s human nature!”

“Just because you’re obsessed with sex doesn’t mean we all are.”

“Just saying,” said Scarlett with a shrug.

Norm was losing his patience. So far nothing was happening that would make James Bond bother to get out of bed in the morning, and he was starting to wonder if Max had sent him on a fool’s errand. He wouldn’t put it past the cat to try and get rid of him.

“Look, I want to find out what Charlene’s got on my son, and then I want to stop that wedding from happening. Are you with me or not, that’s all I need to know right now.”

“Well…” said Scarlett, wavering.

“It’s going to break my granddaughter’s heart, Scarlett! And I happen to love my granddaughter—more than anything in the world!”

“Aww,” said Scarlett, regarding her friend with interest.

“What’s the look for?”

“So you do have a heart.”

“Of course I have a heart!” She then wagged a finger in her friend’s face. “But don’t you go and blab about it. It would ruin my reputation.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll help you. What do you want me to do?”

“First we need to find out Charlene’s secret.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“Easy. We spy on her.”

“What do you mean?”

“We bug her phone, her house, her office, we put a tracker on her car…”

“Isn’t that, like, extremely illegal?”

“Who cares? I’m trying to protect my family here, Scarlett!”

“Fine! But aren’t you forgetting one thing?”

“What?”

“We’re not exactly professional spies, you and me. So how do you propose we pull this off?”

Grandma Muffin smiled. “Leave that to me. I’ve got it all figured out.”

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly the high-profile spy bonanza Norm had anticipated, but he still felt, as he started the long flight back to Harrington Street to report to Max, that he’d gleaned some interesting intelligence. And he was starting to see that he’d landed himself in exactly the kind of spy story Mr. Bond would have appreciated.