Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Alibi

I cringed, and so did the rest of the cat contingent. Vena has that effect on cats. She has a big voice, an even bigger personality, and resembles The Rock in more ways than one. She stood before us, hands planted on her hips, a mass of muscle and hearty good cheer.

“They’ve got a cold,” Odelia intimated.

“Yeah, they’ve been sneezing and coughing all day,” Gran chimed in.

“The poor dears,” Marge added.

“Let’s have a look,” said Vena. Without effort, she picked me up and plunked me down on the operating table. I fully expected her to start probing me with all manner of metal implements before plunging some type of syringe into my neck but instead her surprisingly gentle touch and warm hands performed a quick but thorough examination.

“Mh,” she said. “He’s got a cold, all right, but only a minor one. Nothing to worry about.” She gave me a tickle behind the ears. “You’ll be right as rain in no time, Max.”

“Oh, that’s great news,” said Odelia.

“Thanks… Vena,” I said, surprised to get off so easy.

“You’re welcome, buddy,” she said, almost as if she could understand what I said.

“See?” said Gran. “I told you not to worry.”

“I didn’t worry,” I said indignantly.

“No, but I did,” said Dooley.

“Dooley is the worrier of this little gang of cats,” said Odelia with a smile.

In short order, my friends underwent the same treatment, until finally Brutus was on the table.

“He’s got spots,” said Odelia. “So you may want to look at those.”

“Spots?” asked Vena. “What spots?”

“Red spots. On my chest,” said Brutus. “Do you think it’s cancer? Am I going to die? I was baptized last night. Shanille said Jesus would save me but I’m not sure she wasn’t full of crap. She’s the reason we got this cold, you know. She dunked us into this gigantic vat of ice water and now I feel worse than ever, so—”

“Stop babbling, Brutus,” said Harriet.

Brutus abruptly stopped babbling.

“He has spots on his chest,” said Odelia, translating Brutus’s gibberings. “Red spots.”

“Probably been drinking,” said Gran. “What?” she added when Marge rolled her eyes. “Pets can have a drinking problem, too. You should have seen my husband’s dog Rex. The two of them always went on their benders together. Came home drunk as skunks.”

“I don’t have a drinking problem,” Brutus said indignantly. “Teetotaler all the way.”

“It’s so funny the way your cats talk, Odelia,” said Vena with a smile.

“Yeah, they’re real talkative,” said Gran. “Blabbermouths, the lot of them.”

“I wonder where they get it from,” Marge murmured.

“Let’s check those nasty spots, shall we?” Vena said, and parted Brutus’s fur like Moses the Red Sea.

Brutus giggled. “You’re tickling me,” he laughed.

“Mh,” said Vena finally. “Myes. I see what you mean. Spots. Red ones.”

Brutus stopped giggling. Instead, a look of panic came over his face. “Oh, no!” he cried. “It’s cancer! She’s going to put me down! Please don’t let her put me down! Save me! I’m too young to die! Don’t let me dieeeeee!”

Odelia smiled indulgently but didn’t respond. Long experience has taught her it’s unwise to be seen talking feline in front of other people. Even veterinarians. Especially veterinarians. They might put her down instead. “So what do you think?” she asked.

“Pollen!” Vena boomed.

“Pollen?”

“Pollen! Nothing to worry about.”

“But I thought pollen affected the eyes and nose?”

“Not with cats it doesn’t. Pollen leads to atopic dermatitis, also known as skin allergy.” She gave Brutus a pat on the head. “Which is what this fellow is suffering from. Usually the rash will appear on the outside of the ears, on the head, face or paws. In this big fella’s case it manifested on the chest. Nothing that some medication won’t take care of.”

“That’s great,” said Odelia, clearly greatly relieved.

“Wait, I’m not going to die?” asked Brutus.

“No, you’re not,” I said. “Just an allergy. To pollen.”

“What’s pollen?” asked Dooley.

“It’s the yellow powdery stuff you find inside flowers,” I said.

“Huh,” said Brutus. He looked down at Harriet. “Babe! I’m not going to die!”

“Of course you’re not going to die,” said Harriet, looking peeved. “Making a big fuss about nothing.” And she stalked off, her tail high. But when she passed me, she gave me a wink. She might not have shown it, but I knew she’d been worried about her mate, too.

And while Vena discussed Brutus’s treatment with Odelia, I happened to glance up at a shelf that was littered with Thank You cards from grateful pet owners, boxes of medicine samples, plush cats and dogs and all manner of pet toys. It also contained a mock-up of a hamburger—the popular dog toy. It was one of those plastic hamburgers, looking pretty realistic, too, and instantly reminded me of Big Mac. And as I stared at the hamburger, I was suddenly struck with an idea so novel and riveting that I momentarily forgot where I was. Only when Odelia told me it was time to go did I become aware of my surroundings again.

All the way home I found myself lost in thought, and by the time we arrived at Casa Odelia I’d made up my mind about the course of action to take. I could have told Odelia but I thought it was probably better to check out a few things first. And I knew exactly who to ask.

Chapter 38

That night, a soothing blanket of darkness and silence had draped itself across the happy little town of Hampton Cove, that jewel in the Hamptons crown. Revelers were enjoying the nightlife in places like Southampton, East Hampton or Montauk, but here locals slept the sleep of the peaceful. So did Odelia who, after a long and strenuous day, enjoyed the warmth of her comfy bed and would have enjoyed it even more if not a strange voice had suddenly started competing with the sweet dreams she was entertaining.

She frowned, the blanket of sleep rudely ripped apart, and opened her eyes.

“I found a love,” the voice was whining. “Darling just dive right in.”

She instantly recognized it as Ed Sheeran’s Perfect , only this obviously wasn’t Ed Sheeran straining his vocal cords but some amateur caroler. Or it might have been a cat undergoing a thoroughly painful castration.

She winced as the unknown singer transitioned into the second verse, effectively massacring poor Ed’s beautiful ode to love.

Neighbors left and right had also caught on, and voices now competed with the singer, shouting such encouragements as, ‘Shut up!’ and ‘We’re trying to sleep here!’

Finally, Odelia couldn’t suppress her curiosity any longer, so she got out of bed and padded over to the window. She peeked through the curtains and when her eyes landed on the lanky male figure standing under her window, singing his heart out, she gasped in shock.

The Ed Sheeran wannabe was none other than… Chase!

She threw the curtains wide and opened the window.

When Chase saw her appear, he smiled and redoubled his efforts to butcher the song. And then the first boot landed. It landed at Chase’s feet and he stared down at it for a moment, not comprehending. The second boot hit him against the shin but only when a third projectile hit him in the face did he finally get the message.

“You better come in,” Odelia said quickly, not wanting her boyfriend to be pummeled with a waffle iron or Crockpot next.

Chase looked a little dazed but staunchly refused to back down. Going into the song’s final stretch, he belted out those last few notes with a zeal and a fervor possibly better reserved for a nobler cause. Still, it touched Odelia’s heart that he would do such a thing for her—expose himself to bodily harm to serenade her like an old-world troubadour.