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

“Good… (pant pant) idea… (pant pant) Max. Let’s… (pant pant) give… (pant pant) it… (pant pant) a shot (closing pant).”

So we gamboled along the corridor—that is to say, I gamboled and Dooley dragged his weary body along as fast as he could—and when we reached the cart I saw that, indeed, it was equipped with nifty little wheels. So we both pushed, and soon the cart was rolling along nicely at a brisk pace. Unfortunately I think we must have put a little too much push into the thing, or maybe the carpet wasn’t as thick and plush as I’d anticipated, for we overshot the room and still the cart kept on zipping along. It proceeded to pick up speed, until it slammed against the wall at the end. For a moment, bucket and glasses waggled precariously, then, like lemmings, collectively made the jump. The first glass was fine, but when the second one fell on top of it, it gave up the fight and broke, and so did the third, and the fourth, and when the bucket tipped over and dropped down on top of all of them, it crushed what remained of the glassware.

“I’m not going near that,” announced Dooley.

This may be a good time to remind you that cats do not wear shoes. So we try to steer clear of sharp objects on the floor, be they glass or other items that cut our tender paws.

To my elation I immediately spotted a second cart. So we decided to repeat the procedure, only this time Dooley pushed and I walked in front of the cart to provide a measure of stoppage. We managed to maneuver the cart where it needed to be. Dooley made one final jump, and landed squarely on top of the cart, held out his badge, and there was that delicious, much-sought-after clicking sound: open Sesame!

Once inside, we quickly spread out. I headed into the kitchen, hoping the Weskits had pets and had left the pet food out, and Dooley moved into the bedroom for a brief nap.

I quickly discovered that the Weskits did not have pets, and the only food I could find in the kitchen was leftover pizza. I’m not choosy when I’m hungry, though, so I took a tentative bite. And as I digested this first nibble, I decided the pizza was fit for feline consumption and quickly devoured a large slice, leaving a smaller slice for Dooley. Feeling fortified, I went in search of that all-telling clue that Odelia had mentioned. She had no idea what it might look like, but had assured us that if we found it, we’d recognize it for what it was: The One Clue That Rules All Other Clues (or TOCTRAOC).

And I’d just wended my way in the general direction of the bedroom to see what Dooley was up to, when I was startled to come across two large eyes glowing in the dark, staring back at me. I immediately recognized them as belonging to the Felis catus species.

In other words, the Weskits did have a pet, and that pet was a cat.

Chapter 22

Odelia, along with her mom, Uncle Alec and Chase, sat one table removed from the Mayor’s table, so she was able to keep a close eye on the Weskits, Laron and Shannon. So far the couple hadn’t moved from their seats, so Max and Dooley were in the clear.

“That was terrible,” said her mother as she distractedly picked from a cheese platter.

“I thought Dad was pretty good. Not exactly his crowd, but still a solid performance.”

“Your dad was fantastic, but your grandmother!” Marge shook her head. “What was she thinking!”

Odelia grinned. “It was a little weird. She was probably thinking she was fifty years younger.”

“I should have stayed for rehearsals. I would never have allowed her on stage dressed like that.”

“To be fair, Marge,” said Uncle Alec as he swirled the remnants of a nice burgundy in his glass, “even if you’d told her not to perform she’d gone ahead and done it anyway.”

“I know, Alec—she never listens to anyone, that’s the problem. And that poor Harriet and Brutus. What an awful, humiliating spectacle. Where are they, anyway?”

Odelia leaned in and whispered into her mom’s ear, “They’re upstairs, checking out Charlie and Jamie’s room, while Max and Dooley are going through the Weskits’ stuff.”

“Well, I hope they find something.”

“And I hope they don’t get caught,” said Chase, who looked worried.

“They won’t get caught, and even if they are, hotel staff will simply throw them out.”

“What are you hoping they’ll find?” asked Uncle Alec, accepting a refill from a waiter.

“Anything, something. I don’t know. It’s frustrating not being able to interview them.”

“Tomorrow,” said the Chief. “Tomorrow we can interview them all we want.”

“And do you seriously expect them to stick around for us to do that? I’ll bet their flights are booked and they’ll be gone at first light.”

“Possibly, but that would simply make them more suspect. And wherever they go, there’s police there, too, and a simple request from me will see them interrogated.”

“Still, I feel more relaxed knowing our cats are going through their things with a fine-tooth comb.”

“Or a fine-claw paw,” Chase quipped.

Just then, Gran joined them at their table, accompanied by Tex. A scarlet blush mantled Gran’s cheeks, but at least she’d covered up her Madonna-style lingerie.

“And?” Gran asked as she took a seat. “What did you think of the show?”

Chase murmured something noncommittal, while Uncle Alec stared at the ceiling.

“It was terrible!” Marge cried, unable to restrain herself. “What the hell were you thinking? You turned us into the town’s laughingstock! How am I ever going to face people now? And have you considered Alec’s reputation? Or Tex’s? Or Odelia’s?”

The corners of Gran’s lips dropped. “Is that a way to encourage the only star in your family? I’ll have you know I got a lot of compliments backstage. Charlie Dieber knocked on my dressing room door and personally told me how rad he thought I was.”

“He was watching?” asked Odelia.

“Of course. Charlie, Jamie, they both watched from the wings. And now that I’ve got some buzz going, I just know I’ll be able to take this thing into the stratosphere.”

“Do you honestly think your performance was good?” asked Marge. “You sang completely out of tune, you looked like a hoary harlot, and those men! They should be ashamed of themselves, the way they behaved—salivating over you like… like… johns!”

“That’s the difference between a star and a nobody like you, Marge,” Gran snapped. “A star is out there, shining brightly, while ordinary people like you only excel at petty jealousy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to mingle and stoke up some more buzz.”

“Mingle!” Marge cried as Gran walked away. “You should apologize to the Mayor!”

“Oh, just leave her be,” said Alec. “I think it’s nice she has a hobby. Keeps her out of trouble.”

“God,” said Marge, and plunked her head against the table, upsetting the tableware.

“Oh, honey,” said Tex, rubbing her between the shoulder blades. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Marge lifted her head. “Do you really believe what she said about Charlie Dieber complimenting her on being ‘rad?’”

“Yeah, that actually happened. I was right there when he told her.”

“The world has gone stark-raving mad,” Marge groaned, and thunked her head again.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” said Jerry as Johnny closed the door of the car. They darted across the road and immediately disappeared into the alley next to the hotel.

“Do you think this bag is big enough, Jer?” asked Johnny, showing Jerry a ginormous gym bag.

“I like it when you think big, Johnny,” said Jerry with a grin.

“I hope they’ve got Rolexes,” said Johnny, sounding like a kid on Christmas morning. “If they got some nice Rolexes I might grab one for me. I’ve always liked Rolexes.”