Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Cut

“Just follow my lead,” she said, and pushed her snout against what looked like a lever. A few pieces of kibble came dropping down into the receptacle and she gave us a sad look as if saying: Well, there you go. “All the different types of kibble are here,” she said with as much zip and zest as a funeral home director. “You’ve got your chicken, your turkey, your rabbit… And if you want brands, you’ll find them all there—every label under the sun.”

What fascinated me, though, was that all the kibble consisted of different shades of gray.

“Don’t tell me Leo got the kibble painted gray,” I said, amazed.

“Yeah, he got the stuff specially made by the manufacturers. They cooked up batches of the stuff just for him—or me, I guess.”

“Jeez,” I said, but still eagerly thumped my snout against one of the levers of what looked like prime gourmet kibble, and out tumbled several nuggets. I eagerly gobbled them up, then spewed them out again. “Yuck!” I said. “What is this flavor?”

“Ash, I guess,” said Pussy. “Leo didn’t believe in flavor. Or smell. He said we needed to get rid of our unnatural attachment to taste. He liked a clean palate, so his imagination could run rampant. He didn’t like color, or taste, or beautiful music or anything that could interfere with his ability to create.”

“Oh, my Lord,” I said, eyeing the poor cat with unadulterated pity. “What a sad, sad life you must have lived.”

“Hey, at least I’m one of the richest cats in the world,” she said without enthusiasm.

“Well, your days of living life without taste or color or sound or smell will be over now, right?” I said.

“Wanna bet?” she said. “With my luck I’ll probably end up living with someone even worse than Leo.”

We ate in silence, and even though the stuff was utterly tasteless and odorless, I still ate my fill. The stomach wants what it wants, right?

And here I thought I knew how the other half lived, I thought as I watched Pussy drink from what looked like a silver salver filled to the brim with crystal-clear water—probably sterilized, if the rest was any indication.

“You should stick around,” said Pussy finally. “There’s going to be a big meeting tonight. All the important people are going to be there.”

“What important people?” I asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Lawyers and board members and shareholders and executives and such. I’ll bet they’ll decide my fate at the meeting, so I probably shouldn’t miss it for the world, but…” She hesitated and gave me a forlorn look. “Could you do me a great, big, gigantic favor?”

“Anything,” I said.

“Could you attend the meeting for me? And then tell me what they decided?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s too much for me,” she said. “I’m sure these are pretty horrible people. As lifeless and colorless and soulless as the rest of this place. And I simply can’t bear to listen to them while they discuss my future. I need you to tell me about the parts that are important for me to know. Only the facts.”

“Sure, no problem,” I said. “But aren’t they going to notice us and kick us out?”

“No, they won’t,” she said with a wan smile. “You’ll see.”

And with these mysterious words she left us.

“How very sad,” said Dooley.

“Yeah,” I said. “And to think that I actually used to envy her. When we watched her Instagram pictures I always thought she had it made.”

“Me too,” said Dooley. “The richest, most spoiled cat in the world. Poor, poor Pussy.”

“Poor Pussy,” I agreed, and then gobbled up some more kibble. It was utterly tasteless and odorless, but it still hit the spot, especially since I hadn’t eaten anything since that morning.

“So we’ll stick around and listen in on this meeting?” Dooley asked.

“I think we owe it to Pussy, don’t you?”

“Isn’t this against union rules?”

“I don’t think so. It’s got nothing to do with the case, right? We’re only doing this as a personal favor to Pussy.”

So we ambled out of the kitchen, and then went for a ramble around the house. Pussy, who’d returned from a short interlude in the bathroom to act as our tour guide, showed us all the best spots where she liked to lay her weary head, and invited us to enjoy them. It was the nicest thing any cat had ever done for us. Usually cats hate it when other cats invade their space, or even dare to come near their favorite spots, but Pussy had no qualms. What struck me, after we passed through several of the bedrooms and a couple of the bathrooms, was that life at Chateau Leonidas must have been pretty lonely for her, and quite dull. Maybe Leo and Gabe had loved her, and spoiled her rotten, but she still seemed unhappy. And suddenly I felt a little homesick, and started to long to be home again, snuggling up to Odelia on the couch while watching some silly show. Dooley must have felt the same way, for he gave me a sad glance that offered a glimpse into his soul. That glimpse was like a mirror: once Odelia was married, our lives would never be the same again.

But then I steeled myself. I was not going to allow myself to become prey to my emotions. It was the house, I suddenly realized, and Pussy’s mood, infecting me with their sadness and melancholy.

So I decided to perk up, and enjoy these rare Instagramable moments.

Chapter 13

Uncle Alec and Chase watched the man sitting across from them at the table and Alec wondered when he’d last seen a more miserable piece of human than this guy. Gabriel Crier was a well-preserved quinquagenarian with gentle features and close-cropped hair of a light blond hue. Right now, though, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his tan skin was blotched.

“But I’m telling you, I didn’t do it,” he repeated not for the first time.

“There’s a witness, Gabriel,” said Alec. “One of the maids saw you, with the knife in your hand, and blood all over your shirt.”

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “I was there, remember? But I’m still telling you I couldn’t have done it. I loved Leo. I would never…”

“So what do you think happened?” asked Chase, who had more patience than Alec.

“I don’t know, but I can’t have killed him. I would never… would I?”

“Is it true you and Leonidas had a big fight last night?”

Gabriel placed his hands on his head and nodded. “We did.”

“Can I ask what the fight was about?”

“The same as usual. I wanted Leo to take a step back—to relinquish the reins—basically to retire, and he flat-out refused. I told him he was seventy-eight and had earned the right to rest on his laurels. I wanted us to spend more time together. Travel the world. He was in excellent health and we’d been talking about spending a couple of months in Asia. Leo loved Malaysia, and always wanted to visit but his work prevented him. So I told him to leave the heavy lifting to his staff and take a step back but he insisted he couldn’t stop now.”

“Why not?” asked Alec. “I mean, like you said, he was seventy-eight. If he didn’t retire now when was he going to?”

“I don’t know. He claimed that things at the company were such that he simply couldn’t afford to assume a more hands-off role.”

“Things at the company were bad, you mean?” asked Chase.

“No idea. I’m not a business person myself. I used to be Leo’s hairstylist. That’s how we met, and then soon after I became his personal stylist and things progressed from there. I also used to do massages on the side. But that didn’t exactly make me qualified to determine what was going on at Leonidas Flake. All I know is that poor Leo was under a lot of pressure, which is why I told him to consider retirement or at least to take a break. But he refused, and said that if he stepped down as president and CEO now the whole house of cards could very well collapse and then everything he’d worked for would be reduced to nothing. I didn’t understand. How can an empire like Leonidas Flake collapse simply because the founder decides to retire? There must be plenty of people who can run that business, right?”