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

“Oh, sure, sure,” said Rory, nodding as his eyes shifted between Vesta and Scarlett, as if unsure of what he was seeing and hearing right then. “So it’s true, then, is it?” he asked.

“What is true?” asked Vesta, massaging her cheeks and slightly displacing her dentures.

“You two are friends now?”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” said Scarlett. “In fact Vesta and I are best friends.”

Rory grinned. “It’s just that… frankly I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Well, you saw the day,” Vesta snapped. “Now are you going to help us or not?”

Rory’s smile disappeared and he swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”

As Vesta and Scarlett exited the pharmacy, Scarlett said, “That went well.”

“I was expecting more excitement,” Vesta grumbled. “He didn’t look excited.”

“Not everyone has a penchant for fighting crime,” said Scarlett. “They’re not all cut from the same cloth as you and me.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. So who’s next?”

Scarlett pointed in the direction of Main Street. “Wilbur Vickery. Nothing happens in this town that Wilbur doesn’t know about.”

“I swear to God, if he starts hemming and hawing I’m gonna smack him in the snoot.”

“Better not,” said Scarlett. “People don’t like it when you smack them in the snoot, even if you’re doing it for all the right reasons.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Vesta grumbled.

They passed the offices of the Gazette, and Vesta was surprised to see an ambulance parked out in front and a stretcher being carted in by two paramedics at a gallop. Immediately her attention was snagged. Galloping paramedics had that effect on her.

“Now what the hell is going on over here?” she asked.

“Let’s find out,” said Scarlett, as chipper as a newly self-appointed crime fighter could be.

“Hey, you!” Vesta yelled to the driver of the ambulance. “What’s going on?”

“Lady was killed,” he said, only too eager to spill the beans. Now that kind of behavior was what Vesta liked to see. Not Rory Suds’s annoying reticence. “Head bashed in with a garden gnome if you please,” the guy added with a wide smile. “Ain’t that something?”

“Head bashed in with a garden gnome?” asked Scarlett. “Isn’t that the kind of thing the neighborhood watch should get involved with?”

“Nah, we don’t do murder and mayhem. That’s for my son and granddaughter.”

They both watched as Alec and Odelia walked out, along with Chase Kingsley. The three of them looked appropriately concerned, and when finally Dan Goory joined them on the sidewalk, it was obvious something had rattled the editor to the bones. He looked even more gaunt than usual, and his face had taken on the same pallor as his beard.

“What happened?” asked Vesta, unable to restrain herself. She might only be in the habit of fighting the softer types of crime, but couldn’t resist finding out about the tougher stuff as well.

“Yeah, what happened?” asked Scarlett, tripping up on her high heels. “As neighborhood watchers we have a right to know what’s going on in our town.”

“A woman was murdered,” said Odelia. “And that’s pretty much all we know right now.”

“So you don’t know anything,” Vesta said. “You disappoint me, honey.”

The paramedics came galloping out again, this time carrying the victim on their stretcher. Vesta caught a glimpse of some hot young blonde, looking decidedly dead.

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” asked Alec a little gruffly. “Like at the doctor’s office?”

Vesta made a dismissive gesture of the hand. “Tex doesn’t need me. Besides, making sure Hampton Cove is crime-free is more important than playing receptionist. So do you want my professional opinion?”

“No, but I have a feeling you’re going to give it anyway,” said Alec with a sigh.

“Crime of passion,” said Vesta, gesturing with her head to Dan, who stood talking into his phone now, presumably to secure himself a good lawyer.

“What are you talking about?” asked Odelia.

“Old guy like Dan and a hot young bimbo like that? She probably dropped by the office to tell him she was finished with him on account of the fact that she found someone better than that old fart.”

“A young fart,” Scarlett added, nodding.

“So Dan flew into a rage and whacked her over the head with his gnome. End of story. Lean on him hard enough and I’m sure he’ll confess. Now if there’s nothing else, we’ve got people to see and crime to fight so adios.”

And with these words, she and Scarlett took off.

“Are you sure Dan killed her?” asked Scarlett.

“Of course. Old guys like Dan fly off the handle when they get dumped. Can’t take the rejection. If I’ve seen it happen once I’ve seen it a hundred times.”

“Oh, sure,” said Scarlett, nodding. “Remember that time I dumped Leo’s ass? His face got all red and splotchy and for a moment there I thought he was gonna have a stroke.”

“You dated Leo?”

“I thought you knew. Why? You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted.

“No need to be jealous, sweetie. I only dated him to spite you. But that’s all in the past now.”

“All in the past,” Vesta echoed.

“I’m so glad we’re friends again. Aren’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, though sometimes she wished Scarlett was a little less… Scarlett.

Chapter 5

Dooley was seriously worried about his best friend Max. Max had been behaving strangely all morning. For one thing, he wasn’t his usual self. Perhaps it was too much to say that Max was a cheerful cat, but he wasn’t uncheerful either. Dooley thought Max was probably semi-cheerful. But all that morning Max had been looking distinctly down.

He claimed it was because of the mice. That he didn’t know what to do about them. But Hector and Helga and their little ones had been there for weeks, and during all this time Max hadn’t been particularly worried. He was worried now, though. Very worried.

And so Dooley was worried, too.

Dooley loved his friend. He figured he was the luckiest cat in the world for having a friend like Max. Honorable, wise, very smart and very brave, and extremely kind, too.

And as he and Max ambled along the sidewalk heading into town as they did most mornings, to talk to their friends and snoop around, Dooley couldn’t help but think that Max was hiding something.

It had to be cancer. It simply had to be.

Max was sick and dying, and being the wonderful friend that he was he didn’t want Dooley to worry.

Oh, no, Dooley thought as tears formed in his eyes at the thought of losing his best friend. Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.

He decided to launch another joke. It was important now to make his friend laugh. To make him laugh and laugh and laugh until he was feeling much, much better, and that nasty cancer was simply driven out of his body and replaced with good, healthy cells.

“Did you hear the one about the one-armed sailor who took a job as a window cleaner?” he asked now, arranging his features into an expression of jollity, designed to inspire happiness and laughter in his friend.

“No, I haven’t,” said Max, a little grumpily.

“Well, he didn’t get the job.” He waited for Max’s pleasant laugh to ring out, and when it didn’t come, he decided to set the example and produced the kind of laugh a hyena would approve of.

Max frowned and said, “I don’t get it.”

Oh, dear. Clearly Dooley had to up his game. Come up with better material.

“Um…” he said, thinking hard. “A priest, a rabbi and an assface walk into a bar. And the assface says to the priest, ‘Have we met before?’ And the priest says, ‘No, I don’t think so. I’d remember a face like yours.’”