Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Alibi

“Don’t tell me. You’re afraid Brutus will contaminate the baptismal font,” I said wearily.

Dooley nodded fifteen times in quick succession. “I’m going first!”

Looked like Dooley had found Jesus, too. Well, it was only a matter of time.

“Will you come with me, Max?” asked Brutus, giving me a pleading look.

“Of course I will,” I told the other cat. “I draw the line at holding your paw, though.”

Brutus laughed, though I could tell he’d been hoping I would hold his paw.

“So I go first, then Max, then Brutus,” said Dooley, who had it all figured out.

“Wait, what?” I said. “I’m not getting baptized, you guys.”

“Why not? The world is ending tomorrow night, Brutus is dying. What do you have to lose?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not into religion.” In fact the only church I prayed at was the church of Cat Snax. Now there was something I believed in.

“These are desperate times, Max,” said Dooley, switching to seasoned preacher mode. “And desperate times call for desperate measures. Do you really want to risk your soul burning in hell for all of eternity? Or do you want to join me and Brutus in cat heaven?”

“What does cat heaven look like, exactly?” asked Brutus, interested.

“No idea,” said Dooley. “You have to ask Shanille. She’s the expert.”

And so she was. “What about Harriet?” I asked. “Shouldn’t we tell her?”

“No, don’t tell her, Max,” Brutus urged me. “She’ll be devastated.”

“She’ll be more devastated when you die without telling her.”

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” asked Brutus with more than a little heat. “I hope I won’t die. I hope Shanille will heal me.”

“I thought you said Jesus would heal you,” said Dooley, puzzled.

“I don’t care who heals me!” Brutus cried. “As long as someone does!”

“Keep your shirt on, Brutus,” I said, which probably didn’t make sense. Cats don’t wear shirts. Dogs do, but then we all know dogs are idiots.

“I’m desperate here, Max, can’t you see?” said Brutus, and I had to admit I’d never seen him quite as unraveled as this.

I could tell I was going to have to hold his paw. And Dooley’s. I was going to be the official pawholder of our little band of three. I didn’t mind. I liked Brutus. He’d grown on me ever since he’d come to live with us. If holding his paw got rid of his red spots I was all for it.

Brutus looked down. Dooley’s paw had surreptitiously slipped against his own. Brutus looked up, giving Dooley a look that could kill. Dooley produced a sheepish smile.

“I figured since we’re going to be Jesus buddies, we might hold paws,” he said.

Brutus lifted his upper lip in a snarl, and Dooley quickly removed his paw.

Brutus might be covered in red spots, but he’d lost none of his bite.

Nine o’clock on the dot the next morning Odelia and Gran strode into Uncle Alec’s office. Chase and the Chief were already present, and they were accompanied by a young woman with long bright pink hair and denim overalls over a Calvin & Hobbes T-shirt.

“Odelia—Ma—this is Lara Dun. She works for the Suffolk County Police Department. We have her on loan for the day so make sure you don’t waste her time.”

With these words, he directed a pointed look at Big Mac, who was safely ensconced in Odelia’s arms, and Max, who was being carried by Gran.

Chase, when he noticed that both Gran and Odelia had come bearing cats, gave them a look of surprise.

“Oh, you brought your cats,” said Lara, and got up to give Max a cuddle. He had the good decency to purr in response.

“So where’s the pizza?” asked Big Mac, as he wriggled in Odelia’s arms.

“Work first, food later,” said Max, and Odelia couldn’t have expressed it better.

“Why don’t you use my office?” said Uncle Alec. “No one will disturb you here,” he added with a knowing look at his niece.

Chase got the hint, for he filed out of the room, followed by the Chief, who closed the door behind him.

“So how do you want to do this?” asked Odelia.

“Just take a seat and I’ll be over here doing my thing,” said Lara with a bright smile. She seemed like a sweet young woman. She took a seat, one leg tucked underneath her bum, and positioned a large sketch pad on her knee, a pencil in her hand, and sat poised.

Odelia and Gran sat across from the sketch artist while Big Mac and Max sat at their feet.

“So you saw several people enter the library last night, right?” said Odelia.

“That’s right,” said Big Mac.

“Uh-huh,” said Gran.

“How many people would you say you saw?”

Big Mac thought hard. “Um, seven. Eight if you count the pizza guy.”

“Eight,” Gran announced.

“Let’s go through the list,” said Odelia.

And so they did. Big Mac shared his recollections with them, Gran passed them on as her own, and Lara quietly worked away. It took quite a while to produce composites of all the people who’d visited the library that night. The morning passed quickly, and by the time Uncle Alec waltzed in, carrying three pizza boxes and placing them on the desk, seven sketches were the end result of the long session. The pizza guy was the only one Big Mac hadn’t been able to describe, as he’d been wearing a ball cap and the cat had been watching the pizza more than the deliverer. They would check all the pizza parlors and get the name of the delivery guy. Or, better yet, check Ackerman’s phone to see what parlor he’d called.

“So?” asked Uncle Alec, planting his hands on the desk. “How did it go?”

Lara handed him the sketches and he frowned as he went through them. “Huh. Now all we gotta do is figure out who these people are.”

“Can I take a look?” asked Odelia.

Alec handed her the pictures while he placed one of the pizza boxes on the floor and watched as Big Mac dug in with relish and a fervor that elicited chuckles from everyone present. He was a great little eater. Well, maybe little wasn’t the right word to describe him.

Odelia flipped through the sketches. “Nice work,” she said. “These are amazing.”

“Thanks,” said Lara with a smile. “You gave me so much detail to work with it wasn’t hard. You’re very perceptive, Mrs. Muffin. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with as good an eye for detail as you.”

“Yeah, well,” said Gran. “It’s a gift.”

“Under the circumstances your eyesight is simply amazing. Your son told me that there’s only one lamp at the back of the library, and it doesn’t even give a lot of light.”

Gran adjusted her glasses. “I’ve always had great eyesight. Some people say I have the eyes of a cat.”

Lara laughed at this. “If you had cat’s eyes that would explain how you pulled this off.” She rose to her feet and held out her hand. “It’s been a pleasure working with you. And you, Miss Poole. Usually people don’t remember half of what you remembered. I had fun.”

“It was so nice meeting you,” Odelia said gratefully.

Lara walked out and Gran puffed out her chest. “I like that girl. She knows her stuff. The things she said about my eyesight and my powers of observation confirmed I’ve got what it takes to be an ace detective.”

“You do realize she was unknowingly complimenting Big Mac, don’t you?” said Odelia.

“Let’s not split hairs,” said Gran.

Odelia, who’d picked up the sketches again, tapped one depicting a man with sunken eyes and a square chin. “Isn’t this Rockwell Burke? The horror writer?”

Gran squinted at the sketch. “Dang it. I forgot my reading glasses.”

So much for her amazing cat-like eyesight.