Ник Сайнт - Purrfectly Hidden. Purrfect Kill. Purrfect Boy Toy

“So what about the nuclear holocaust?” asked Chase. “Aren’t you going to prepare, Vesta?”

“Oh, I’m done with that nonsense,” said Gran. “I read an article explaining how all this disaster stuff is just a bunch of hooey. Did you know that half the stuff they put on the YouTube or those social media is just a bunch of made-up baloney? Hard to imagine.”

“Yeah, who knew?” said Uncle Alec with a grin.

“A second toast,” said Chase now, as he held up his glass. “To Odelia, who had the courage to convince me and her uncle to drop the investigation into Rita and Tom Baker.”

“It took some convincing,” she said. “But it was worth it.”

“Technically you broke the law,” said Tex. “Didn’t you, Alec?”

“Technically I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Tex.”

“Boyd Baker?”

“I don’t remember no Boyd Baker.”

“The skeleton in the basement?”

“Never happened. And if it did, I’m sure no one is going to insist we drop all of our other work and focus on a fifty-five-year-old murder case.”

“Does that other work include writing up tickets for every traffic violation within the town limits?” asked Tex, who wasn’t happy that he’d recently been fined when he went to visit a patient, in spite of the fact he was a physician and had an MD license plate.

“You’ll have to take that up with the new mayor, Tex.”

“I’m taking it up with you, Alec.”

“Are you trying to make me drop your ticket? That’s against the law, Tex.”

“I’m simply appealing to your sense of fairness, Alec. I have MD license plates.”

“I could be persuaded to think about it, in exchange for another couple of sausages.”

At the mention of the word sausage, all the adults in the backyard turned a little green. And as the conversation turned from murder laws to traffic laws to food safety laws, the four of us were seated on the porch swing and enjoying a lazy evening. Even though it was hot enough for Ted Trapper to sit with his feet in his birdbath, it was getting a little nippier, and soon summer would be over and autumn would roll in. Already it had been raining a lot, and there was a definite chill in the air.

“So how many pounds have you lost, Max?” asked Brutus now.

“Three, which is just enough to allow me free passage through the pet flap.”

They all cheered for me, which frankly felt good. After my debacle with the motor oil, and Odelia having to use paper towels to get that junk off of me, I’d decided to get serious about my diet. So I’d been eating less, and I’d been taking regular walks around the block, and it had paid off. I was now slimmer than ever before, and I felt better, too.

“So how do you feel about this decision to let the Bakers off the hook?” asked Brutus.

“I think they did the right thing. It was an accident, and I don’t think Rita and Tom should be punished for what were, in a sense, the crimes of their father.”

“I think he’s right,” Harriet agreed. “And I, for one, think that Uncle Alec definitely made the right call.”

“I agree,” said Brutus.

Dooley was the only one who hadn’t spoken. “So what do you think, Dooley?” asked Harriet.

“I’m not so sure,” he said, much to my surprise. “I think Uncle Alec is making a big mistake. He should arrest Rita and Tom and punish them to the fullest extent of the law.”

“Dooley?” I asked. “Are you feeling all right?”

My friend had a strange glint in his eyes. “Oh, I’m fine, Max. Absolutely fine.” When we all stared at him, he suddenly burst into a giggle. “You should see your faces!”

“Is this supposed to be a joke?” asked Harriet.

“Yes, it is!” he cried, still giggling.

“Well, it’s not funny.”

His face fell. “Not funny?”

“Not funny at all.”

“But… the documentary I saw on the Discovery Channel on stand-up comedy said that the trick to humor is to shock your audience. And hit them with your punchline.”

“Whoever made that documentary obviously doesn’t know the first thing about comedy,” said Harriet, shaking her head.

“Not a clue,” Brutus agreed.

“But, you guys! Gran asked me to be Tex’s opening act once he launches his basement rehearsal space. She said I’m the best way to warm up the crowd for her son-in-law.”

“Does Tex know about this?” I asked.

“No, Gran told me not to mention it to anyone. She wants to surprise him.”

“Oh, he’ll be surprised,” said Harriet, and now she actually was laughing.

“Listen. I’ve prepared a couple of jokes,” said Dooley, wetting his lips. “Um… a giraffe, a penguin and an elephant walk into a bar. Says the elephant to the giraffe, ‘So how is the view from up there?’ ‘I guess not as good as the view from down there,’ says the giraffe, and plucks the penguin from beneath his tush.”

We were all silent, then I said, and I think I spoke for everyone, “Dooley, please don’t become a comedian.”

But Dooley wasn’t going to be deterred. “I have to. For Tex. So how about this one? A priest, a nun and a basketball player walk into a bar. Asks the nun of the basketball player, ‘How high do I have to jump to become a professional like you?’”

We all waited expectantly, but when nothing more seemed forthcoming, I asked, “So? What’s the punchline?”

“I’m still working on it,” said Dooley. “But how do you like it so far? Funny, right?”

We all groaned, and would have given Dooley a more thorough criticism if not suddenly the sound of our neighbor Marcie Trapper screaming caught our attention. And as I pricked up my ears, I could clearly hear the sound of four hundred mice clamoring.

Apparently Molly and Rupert had simply moved their colony into the Trappers’ basement.

When we all looked to Harriet, now our official mouse whisperer, she cried, “No way! I did it once but I’m not doing it again!”

Marcie kept on screaming, and soon the Pooles had all passed through the little gate in the hedge and were moving into the house next door, along with Ted, wet feet and all.

“Don’t you think we should go over there?” asked Brutus. “We are cats, after all. We’re supposed to take care of this mouse issue for our humans.”

“I’m not going anywhere near them,” said Harriet with a shiver. “Those mice are vicious.”

“Oh, listen, you guys, I’ve got another one,” said Dooley. “A mouse, a moose and a macaw walk into a bar.”

“Okay,” I said.

“That’s all I’ve got. Hilarious, right?”

“Yeah, a real hoot, Dooley,” I said.

There’s probably a reason there are no famous cat comedians. We’re not that funny.

Just then, Gran popped her head over the hedge and hissed, “Don’t listen to those party poopers, Dooley. You’re doing great. You’ll have Tex’s buddies rolling in the aisles. They’ll keep coming back for more and more!” And then she disappeared again.

“See?” said Dooley. “Tex will be so happy with his surprise. So what do you call Prika’s dad? Paprika. I can do this all night, so stop me if you’ve heard this one before.”

I think that’s the moment we all yelled, “Stop!”

Purrfect Kill

The Mysteries of Max - Book 17

Prologue

Chickie Hay was shaking her athletic frame to the beat, one eye on the floor-to-ceiling mirror, the other on the big screen where her choreo was being demonstrated by her personal choreographer Tracy Marbella. Chickie’s next tour was coming up and she needed to get in shape, which is why she was working up a sweat practicing her moves and rehearsing the concert playlist until she had the songs and the dance routines down pat.