Ник Сайнт: Purrfect Cut

“A human,” I explained.

“Oh, right,” said Brutus.

“I once saw a story about a cat that likes to lie on top of its human’s face,” said Dooley. When we all stared at him, he added, “It was on the Discovery Channel so it must be true!”

“So did the human die?” asked Harriet.

“Yeah, that’s the real issue here,” Brutus added. “Did that human die?”

“I don’t think so,” said Dooley, frowning as he searched his memory. “No, I think he survived. At least he was alive when they interviewed him.”

More eye rolls greeted Dooley’s second contribution to our discussion, with some exasperated groans coming from Harriet, but once again it was up to me to explain to my dear friend what the problem was with his story.

“Dooley, if they interviewed the man after the fact, and he was able to recount the experience, he didn’t die, see?”

He thought about this for a moment, then conceded, “No, I guess he didn’t.”

“Why did he lie on top of his human’s face?” I asked, for the story did possess an element of intrigue.

“Yeah, did he try to kill him?” asked Brutus, who has a penchant for all things violent.

“No, I think he just wanted to show his affection,” said Dooley. “Or maybe he was afraid his human’s face would get cold during the night.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have,” Harriet snapped. “Lying on top of a hominid’s face might block certain aspects of the breathing apparatus and kill it dead.”

“What’s all this talk about hominids?” I asked.

“Marge loaned me an eBook she got from the library the other day,” said Harriet. “Very interesting stuff. About the different species that make up this great big beautiful planet of ours. She felt I’d been spending too much time watching the Kardashians with Gran, and I should read something that would feed my mind instead. I like it. I might read a few more of them.”

I was greatly surprised, but also greatly impressed. Harriet is not exactly known as the intellectual of our gang of four, and this was all to the good.

“Look, all this talk about killer cats is all well and good,” said Brutus, “but frankly I don’t buy it. Not for one second.”

“What don’t you buy?” asked Dooley, interested.

“That cats are capable of killing humans! It’s simply not possible. I mean, they can claw their humans, when provoked, or even bite them, but kill them? I don’t think any member of the feline species, in the long history we share with the human race, has ever been responsible for the death of a human.”

“A cat could kill if it accidentally kicked over a candle and set the house on fire,” Harriet pointed out.

“Yeah, but that’s not exactly murder, is it? That’s more like an accident.”

“Brutus is right,” I said. “What we need to ask ourselves is this: are cats capable of possessing the intent to kill? Willfully murder a human being?”

We all chewed on that one for a moment, then Dooley finally said, “Do you think Pussy is one of those cats that likes to wear booties?”

“Dooley, let’s try to focus on the issue at hand for a moment, shall we?” I said. “In a show of paws, who thinks cats are capable of manslaughter?”

No paws were raised. “Well, that settles it,” said Harriet. “Pussy is innocent, and whoever claims she did what they say she did is lying through their teeth.”

“We’ll know more after we’ve talked to her,” I said.

Odelia, who’d been surfing the internet, preparatory to launching her investigation, now called out, “Did you know that Leonidas was couturier to kings and queens and presidents?”

“No, I did not know that,” I said, but when Chase joined her at the computer it dawned on me that her question hadn’t actually been directed at me.

Instead, Chase said, “Well what do you know?”

I stared at my human for a moment, then back at my posse. They quickly looked away. It had been an embarrassing moment for me, and none of them wanted to rub my face in it. Which was nice of them, I guess. Then again, it highlighted a growing concern we all shared: ever since Chase had moved in, our face time with Odelia had gradually diminished to the point it had almost been reduced to zero. Used to be she spent all of her free time with us, or her family, who live right next door. These days she spends most of her time with Chase, and what little time is left, she devotes to taking care of our basic needs. It’s been an adjustment, let me tell you, and one we’re struggling with.

“It’s all right, Maxie, baby,” said Brutus finally. “It’s happened to us all.”

And it had, which meant it was turning into a serious problem. I mean, what good is it to be able to talk to your human, if that human is always busy talking to her significant other human? None whatsoever, right?

Anyway, I know I’m nagging and whining, which is so not me. Cats rarely nag and whine. At least not this cat. Still, being ignored by your favorite human in all the world is a tough one, and if I hadn’t known better I’d have thought Odelia sometimes did it on purpose, to show us that things had changed around here. That we were no longer her top priority.

Just then Odelia and Chase moved to the door, then passed out into the street and we could hear the key being turned in the lock. Silence reigned for a moment, as we all stared at the closed door. Finally, Harriet spoke. “Correct me if I’m wrong, you guys. But did Odelia just forget to take us along?”

Chapter 4

Odelia was already in her pickup and maneuvering the vehicle away from the curb when she felt Chase’s eyes raking her visage.

“What?” she asked as she reached the end of the road, then flashed her blinker to take the turn.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” asked Chase, looking amused.

“Forget what?” she asked, her mind now occupied by all that she’d read on Leonidas Flake. The man had lived a full life, that much was obvious. Born in Paris, France, he’d launched himself as a contender in the fashion trade in the sixties. He’d worked for several of the big fashion houses before establishing his own brand, which had made him a household name over the course of the six decades he’d been in the business. Now everyone the world over, from the cognoscenti to the non-cognoscenti, was aware of the name Leonidas Flake. A name that brought to mind gorgeous haute couture, but also couture designed for the masses, in his prêt-à-porter collections and collaborations with some of the major clothing retailers like Gap, Banana Republic, J. Crew and H&M.

“Weren’t you planning on taking your cats along?” asked Chase now.

She frowned at him, then glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, God,” she said, suddenly mortified. “I forgot my cats!”

“That’s what I figured.”

Immediately she performed a U-turn and before long was right back where she started. She cut the engine but before she could jump from the vehicle, Chase had already beaten her to the punch.

“I’ll get them,” he said.

She shook her head in dismay. What was wrong with her? She’d never ever forgotten her cats before. Never. Her excuse, of course, was that she’d been so busy thinking about the case her uncle had landed in her lap that she’d totally forgotten about her little dears. As she glanced over, she saw them walking out of the house, single file, right behind Chase. They didn’t look happy. In fact Max was giving her an accusatory look that she absolutely deserved.

They hopped into the car without a word, then sat silently staring before them, not deigning her a single glance.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” she tried. “I was so wrapped up in this Leonidas business that I completely forgot. I’m so, so sorry, you guys.”