Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Advice. Purrfect Passion. A Purrfect Gnomeful

“So what do you think?” asked Max.

Odelia had passed Chase and now dropped to the floor on the other side of the bed.

“Are you all right down there?” asked Chase.

“Yeah, fine,” she croaked.

“You could have just told me about my morning breath, you know,” he said. “You didn’t have to jump ship.”

“You don’t have morning breath,” she said. “In fact you smell delicious in the morning. Almost too delicious for anyone to have a right to.”

“Thanks, babe,” he said with a smile. “I wish I could say the same about you.”

She screwed up her face in a comical expression and slapped him on the chest. “Nasty,” she said. “Very nasty, sir.”

“Just kidding. So what’s going on?”

“Max had an idea. Um… What was your idea, Max?”

“Kirk’s other girlfriends. We need to find them and talk to them.”

“Max says that Kirk must have other girlfriends besides Allison and Mia, so maybe finding them will tell us something.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Chase, then yawned. “Why don’t I make us some breakfast, and you make us some coffee.”

“Good idea,” she said, and started in the direction of the door.

“Oh, and Dooley and I made a deal with the mice,” said Max.

“You made a deal? What do you mean?”

“We negotiated a truce last night. They won’t bother us, if we don’t bother them.”

She stared at him. Was she still dreaming or had Max actually said he’d negotiated a truce with the colony of mice infesting her house?

“What did he say, babe?” asked Chase, also getting up now.

“I’m not sure. I think he said he’s negotiated a truce with the mice, but that sounds so unlikely I’m sure I misheard.”

“No, you didn’t, Odelia,” said Dooley, who now walked in. “We talked to the mice last night, and Helga and Hector promised us that their kids will behave from now on, and if they don’t all we need to do is say the word. They’re very anxious to do the right thing, aren’t they, Max?”

“Yeah, they’re very nice mice. Responsible parents, too.”

Odelia shook her head. “Mice, parents, Hector, Helga,” she muttered.

“Mh?” said Chase.

“I’m simply repeating what Dooley just told me.”

“Sounds like gibberish to me,” said Chase with a wink to Max and Dooley.

“Coffee,” Odelia said. “And quick.”

“Listen, babe,” said Chase as they both descended the stairs, “I know we said we wouldn’t plan our dinners anymore, as something always seems to come up at the last minute, but maybe we can give it one more shot? How about the Bourvil tonight at eight? I met the owner yesterday. He came into the office for some paperwork dealing with his restaurant’s security, and told me they have a live band every Thursday night. He said he’d reserve us a table with a great view of the band. So how about it?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” she said as she walked into the kitchen and started the coffee maker. “Let’s tempt fate one last time.”

“Great,” he said and planted a kiss on her brow.

Odelia opened the fridge and had the distinct impression things had been rearranged there, and lots of stuff had disappeared.

“Oh, that’s right,” said Max as he came padding into the kitchen. “The mice did that. But Hector promised me it wouldn’t happen again. In fact he was shocked when I told him about what happened.”

“Shocked,” Odelia repeated. “Hector the mouse was shocked.” She sighed. Sometimes she had the feeling she was living in an upside-down version of the real world.

Chapter 32

I was in excellent fettle as we started on our day, and a busy day it was, too. We were out in full force, determined to find Kirk’s killer. Chase and Odelia had teamed up, and so had Scarlett and Vesta, and of course Dooley and myself, and also Harriet and Brutus.

Our only objective was to find more potential suspects, and possibly the other women I had a hunch Kirk had associated with.

Vesta and Scarlett did the shops, Odelia and Chase canvassed the restaurants and bars, and we cats talked to any pets we could find that would be able to shed some light on this cat whisperer’s complicated and extremely busy love life.

As usual, we dropped by Kingman first. As the cat who saw all and knew all, it only made sense he’d be the one to deliver us that telling clue—the one clue that rules them all.

Unfortunately, for once Kingman had decided to let us down. In fact all he could talk about was… Chloe.

“I’m in love, you guys,” he said. “In love with Chloe, if you please.”

“Chloe? You mean Shanille?”

“Yeah. Probably. Maybe. I mean, look, intellectually I know that Chloe is Shanille, but emotionally I don’t, if you see what I mean.”

“No, actually I don’t.”

“Look, I read Chloe’s words and they just make me feel so close to her, you know. And they make my heart beat faster. Here, feel this.” And he grabbed my paw and placed it against his sizable and decidedly soft belly. I felt a rumbling sensation.

“I think your heart is located a little higher, Kingman,” I said.

“Yeah, whatever,” said Kingman. “It’s just that every time I read these words, I just know she’s talking to me. Listen to this.” His owner, Wilbur Vickery, had dropped a copy of the Gazette on the floor and Kingman now took a seat on top of it and started reading from Chloe’s latest column. “Dear Furry Heart. Don’t despair. Just look around. Love is everywhere. In the faces of the cats you meet, in the birds singing in the trees, in the butterflies flitting in the breeze, and even in the clouds drifting languidly in the blue sky. Love, love, love.” He looked up with a stupid grin on his wide mug. “See what I mean? She loves me, and I love her. We’re meant to be together. I just know it. I can feel it!”

“Um, I’m not sure that’s what it says, Kingman,” I said.

“That’s just because you don’t have a romantic bone in your body, Max. Of course it says that! She’s sending me messages in every single thing she writes. She’s talking to me with every word, every line, every response.”

“So you wrote her?” asked Dooley. “You’re Furry Heart?”

Kingman shrugged. “Not necessarily. But I just know this was meant for me. Me!”

And with a happy sigh he curled up on top of the newspaper, until Wilbur yelled, “Hey, Kingman! Get off that newspaper, will ya? I still gotta sell that thing.”

But Kingman wasn’t deterred. Still smiling beatifically, he got up and allowed Wilbur to pick up the newspaper and replace it on the rack, after wiping off Kingman’s drool.

“So what was the question you wanted to ask me, fellas?” Kingman finally said.

“Nothing,” I said. “It’s fine. We’ll just leave you to it, shall we?”

“Yeah, you do that, and if you see Shanille, tell her I feel the same way.”

And as Dooley and I walked away, Dooley said, “Kingman doesn’t seem entirely okay, Max. I worry about him. In fact he looks a little sickly. Did you see the weird expression on his face? I’m sure he’s coming down with something.”

“Kingman is in love, Dooley,” I said.

“In love? But he looks like he’s sick.”

“Infatuation can be like an affliction,” I explained. “The person feels faint, feverish, experiences strange sensations, and is prone to start giggling inanely at inopportune moments. And when the object of his affection doesn’t reciprocate that affection, he can even feel downright depressed.”

“I hope I never fall in love,” said Dooley earnestly. “It sounds pretty painful.”

“Oh, it’s not as bad as all that,” I hastened to say, and dispel the notion that love was a bad thing. “If the person you love does love you back, you’ll feel like you’re floating on air, and you will have butterflies flying around in your tummy.”