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

“So… what’s your name?” Odelia insisted. She was both curious and unrelenting. It was the reporter in her, used to asking tough questions and not taking no for an answer.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “My name is Hank. Hank Peterson.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Hank,” she said, plastering an engaging smile on her face.

“Likewise,” said Hank, and returned once more to sucking on his straw.

For a moment, Odelia managed to stay silent, then she whispered, “Who is he?”

Gran didn’t bat an eye when she whispered back, “He’s my boyfriend.”

Odelia stared at her grandmother, then to Hank, and back to Gran. “Wait, what?”

“He’s handsome, isn’t he? Probably the handsomest boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

“But…”

“But what? Aren’t you happy for me?”

“Um… he’s very young, isn’t he?”

“He sure is,” said Gran, directing a loving glance at her boyfriend.

“So… how did the two of you meet?”

“Oh, enough about Hank already. What are we going to do about them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Them!” she said, gesturing once again to Tex and Marge, who were clearly enjoying their first flight on a private jet. “We need to ditch them! Get rid of the dead weight.”

“We can’t ditch them, Gran. They’re family. You don’t ditch family.”

“What is Opal going to say when we show up with this sorry lot? She hired us, remember—two pros. Not June and Ward Cleaver.”

In spite of herself, Odelia had to laugh. “I’m sure Opal will be fine.”

“Fine! She hired two detectives and we’re bringing her half a dozen!”

In all fairness Opal had only hired Odelia, with Gran attaching herself forcibly.

“What about Hank?” asked Odelia. “Is he a detective, too?”

“Oh, don’t you mind Hank,” said Gran with a wave of the hand. “He’s with me.”

Odelia grinned and settled back in her seat. She glanced over to her mother, who gave her two thumbs up and said, “Can’t wait to meet her! Yay, Opal!”

“Yeah, yay, Opal,” Gran muttered, clearly not happy with the state of affairs.

“I’m going to check on Max and the others,” said Odelia, and got up. Moving to the back of the plane, she quickly found her feline brood. They were clearly having the time of their lives. When Odelia had told Opal she was bringing her cats along, the talk show host had been over the moon. An avid cat lover herself, she’d immediately given instructions for the airplane crew to give of their best when dealing with Max, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus, and now the foursome sat in their plush beige leather seats, snacking on what looked like some excellent gourmet food.

“So how are you guys doing?” she asked, settling in one of the sumptuous seats.

“Not too shabby,” said Max as he tucked into what looked like prime paté covered in a gelatinous sauce.

“Who is the guy next to Gran?” asked Harriet.

Odelia glanced over her shoulder. “His name is Hank Peterson,” she said, “and that’s all I know.” She lowered her voice. “Between you and me I think he’s Gran’s boy toy.”

“Boy toy?” asked Dooley. “What’s a boy toy?”

“It’s when an older woman takes a younger man as her lover,” said Harriet. “And frankly I think the term is insulting. When an older man takes a younger woman as his lover do they call her his girl toy? Well, do they?”

Odelia laughed. “No, I guess they don’t.”

“Boy toy,” said Dooley, musing. “You mean he’s not a real person but a toy?”

“No, he’s a real person,” Odelia said with a smile.

“He looks like a toy,” said Harriet. “He looks like a Ken doll.”

“Well, I can assure you he’s real.” She petted Dooley on the head and got up. “We’ll be there soon, you guys, so eat up and enjoy your in-flight entertainment.” She gestured to the big flatscreen in the corner, where a Garfield movie was playing.

“Boy toy,” she heard Dooley say as she walked away. “Why not toy boy?”

“Oh, Dooley,” said Harriet.

Chapter 3

I had to admit that so far I was enjoying the experience. Last time we flew—also our first time—we’d been relegated to cages in the preliminary stages of the flight, and the experience hadn’t been one I cared to remember. This time, however, limos had picked us up at the house, and had carried us straight to the airport, where this sleek little bird had been awaiting us, its flanks adorned with the letters OPAL AIR, indicating that this plane, evidently, belonged to Opal. No cages had been involved, and we’d simply walked aboard like normal cats, quickly to find ourselves engulfed in luxury and class.

“I think I like this, Max,” said Dooley now, indicating he was on the same page.

“Yeah, I could get used to this,” Brutus said with a satisfied grunt as he settled back and rubbed his belly contentedly. “In fact I only have one gripe.”

“What’s that?” I asked, wondering what there could be to cavil at on this super plane.

“That I don’t have a bigger stomach,” he said, and laughed uproariously.

“Ha ha,” I said, though I thought the joke was a little crass. After all, the only reason we were on this flight was because our host and benefactor was suffering from some untold ordeal, and it would be rude of us to treat this as something other than what it was: a rescue mission. In fact it wasn’t too much to say we were Opal’s personal SEAL Team Six. Though CAT Team Four was perhaps the better description.

“I still think it’s unfair that you would vote to end my career as a soloist,” said Harriet suddenly, in fact the first time she’d spoken to me in three days.

“Well, you couldn’t expect me to vote against the majority, Harriet,” I pointed out.

“I could and you should have,” she said, her eyes shooting a mild sheet of flame in my direction. “I’m your friend, Max. If I can’t count on my friends, on who can I count?”

“On whom.”

“Who cares! You should have told Shanille in no uncertain terms what you thought of her dictatorial ideas. And where she could stick them.”

“That wouldn’t have changed anything. She was going ahead with her soloist democratization plans regardless of what I or Dooley or anyone else thought about them. Besides, she got a clear majority, and cat choir is still a democracy last time I looked.”

“No, it’s not. It’s a dictatorship and Shanille is its ruthless ruler.”

There was no arguing with the cat, so I decided not to even try.

“If you want you can have my solo, Harriet,” said Dooley now.

“Dooley,” I said, looking up. “But I thought…”

“I was really looking forward to it, that’s true,” my friend said, “but I can see how much this means to Harriet, and since she’s my friend I think she should have my spot.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly take your spot, Dooley,” said Harriet.

“You know what?” I said. “You can have my spot, too.”

“Max? Are you serious?” she said, her eyes wide.

“Sure. What else are friends for?”

“Oh, you guys,” she said, her eyes brimming with unshed tears of gratitude. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you would be nice,” I said with a smile.

And then she flew down from her seat and hopped up onto Dooley’s seat to give him a hug, repeating the procedure with me and giving me a big wet kiss on my nose to boot.

“Thanks,” she said huskily. “I’ll never forget this.”

“You can have my spot, too,” said Brutus.

“Oh, Brutus,” she said.

“But I thought you quit cat choir?” said Dooley.

“Yeah, I did. But I can join up again, and then Harriet can take my spot.”