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

“Why don’t we ask Odelia?” said Dooley, not for the first time. “Or Gran. Or Marge? They’ll tell us if we were cloned or not.”

“No, they won’t,” said Harriet, also not for the first time. “Do you really think they’ll tell us the truth? Of course not! If we were cloned the last thing they want is for us to find out about it. The same way a father who buys his kid a new goldfish when the old one is found floating in its aquarium one morning isn’t going to tell them about it.”

“Odelia would never lie to us,” Dooley said.

“Oh, Dooley,” said Harriet, shaking her head. “You are so naive. Of course she’s going to lie to us, and with the best intentions, too.”

“Well, you probably weren’t cloned,” Dooley told Brutus.

“And why not? Why don’t I get to be a clone, too?” He seemed worried that he’d be left out of this cloning business all of a sudden.

“But… you weren’t adopted by Odelia,” said Dooley. “You were adopted by Chase’s mother.”

“So? She could have had me cloned.”

“Let’s not get distracted by these side issues,” said Harriet. “Let’s simply assume that we’re all clones, and our original selves are in a lab someplace, kept on ice, just in case we need to be cloned again.”

Her words plunged us all into a brief moment of shocked silence. It was hard to imagine my original self stuck in a lab somewhere, on ice, dead as a dodo, while I was hopping around out here, perhaps the umpteenth iteration of my own true self. I swallowed with marked unease, and when Dooley spoke the next words, I think he spoke for all of us—voicing the welter of emotions we were all experiencing.

“I don’t like being dead in a lab somewhere, you guys. I don’t like it at all.”

“None of us like being dead in a lab, Dooley,” said Harriet, “but if this is the case we need to accept it and move on. But before we can do that, we have to know for sure.”

“And the only way to do that,” Brutus continued his mate’s train of thought, “is by talking to Prunella and finding out where this famous cloning lab is situated.”

“And then going over there to take a look for ourselves,” Harriet finished.

And as if she’d sensed our urgent need for her company, Prunella rounded the corner of the house and joined us underneath the rhododendrons—third bush from the left.

“Hey, guys,” she said by way of greeting. “What are you doing?” Then she frowned. “And who are you, exactly, and what are you doing trespassing on private property?”

“We’ve told you this many, many times before,” said Harriet. “We’re your human’s guests. Harriet, Brutus, Max and Dooley. And we’re not trespassing. We’re here with Odelia, the detective trying to find out who’s trying to kill your human.”

Prunella’s frown deepened. “Wait a minute. Someone is trying to kill my human?”

“Yes, they are. They dropped a big light on her head this afternoon, remember?”

Prunella obviously didn’t remember a thing, which probably was a blessing in disguise. “I’m hungry,” she said suddenly. “Do you guys want to eat? Cause I do.”

“Before you do that, though,” I said, glancing at my friends, who all gave me the nod, “there’s something very, very important we need to ask you, Prunella.”

“And how exactly do you know my name?” asked Prunella. “And who are you cats? I’ve never seen you around these parts before.”

“Oh, God,” Brutus muttered.

“Look, who we are is not important,” I said. “But what I’m going to ask you next is. The lab where you were cloned, could you tell us where it is? We have reason to believe we were also cloned, just like you, and we want to visit the lab to know for sure.”

“Cloned? What are you talking about, unknown trespasser?”

“Well, you’re not your original self, see? You’re a clone of the original Prunella.”

“Prunella? Who’s Prunella? Oh, that’s right. I’m Prunella. And who are you?”

“Let’s try to focus here, Prunella,” I said, starting to feel a little desperate. “Where is the lab where they cloned you? Just give us the name and we’ll take it from there.”

“God, I’m hungry,” said Prunella, with marked cheer. “I think I’m going to have a bite to eat. Do you want to come too, strangers? I know I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, or invite them into my home, but I’m suddenly feeling rebellious. So let’s break the rules and have some fun together! What do you say?”

“Oh, dear God, please beam me up now,” was what Brutus had to say.

Chapter 16

As Opal had promised, Kurtz dropped by the house later that evening, to discuss the events of that afternoon. Opal had decided to take him into her confidence, knowing that he wouldn’t go blabbing either to his colleagues or—God forbid—to the media.

They’d decided to conduct the interview in Opal’s study, which was located on the ground floor. And since Opal didn’t want to influence her assistant, she’d decided that Odelia and Gran should talk to him alone. He might be her most loyal and trusted PA, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a little intimidated by her presence. The disadvantage of being an icon and a legend, she’d intimated, was that people were often so impressed with her they had a hard time overcoming their sudden bashfulness. She’d learned over the years how to put people at their ease, but it was still a social hurdle to overcome, even with her own staff, who’d known and worked with her for years and years.

“So, Kurtz, tell us what you think happened this afternoon,” said Odelia once they’d made themselves comfortable in Opal’s study. She’d taken the maroon leather couch closest to the window, while Gran had decided to remain standing, just in case Kurtz tried to attack her—she still thought he could very well be a serial killer. The PA himself was seated on one of the overstuffed chairs.

Opal’s study had bookcases that reached to the ceiling, a large mahogany desk that dwarfed the rest of the space, and where presumably she ran her empire, and stained-glass windows that overlooked the grounds, where that waterfall still attracted Odelia’s attention and she vowed, once more, to take a walk as soon as she had the chance.

“Well, I think someone sabotaged that light,” said Kurtz, whose name was actually Jack Kurtzman but whom everyone seemed to call Kurtz for some reason.

“You think it was sabotage, too, huh?” said Gran, safely ensconced behind Odelia now and out of reach of Kurtz’s presumable serial killer tactics.

The pale PA nodded six times in quick succession. “Oh, sure. No way that light could have dropped down of its own accord. Sabotage, no doubt about it. I talked to the gaffers and the electricians and they’re unanimous: those lights are checked before every show, and they were properly rigged up. They said the bolts that held that particular light in place had been unbolted.”

“Unbolted?” asked Odelia.

“Properly unbolted,” Kurtz said with satisfaction.

“Meaning someone intended that big-ass light to drop on Opal’s head,” said Gran grimly.

“Yeah, it sure looks that way,” Kurtz confirmed.

“Any idea who could be responsible?” asked Odelia.

“None—but I have to say that one of the electricians has a criminal record. I mean…” He held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I don’t know if it’s my place to tell you this—Opal told me not to hold anything back and that I should tell you everything, even the smallest detail, no matter how insignificant, so that’s why I’m telling you—but when this man was hired I brought his criminal record to Opal’s attention and she decided to hire him anyway, so…” He arched a meaningful eyebrow, as if to say, ‘I told her so.’