Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Peril

“Has she lost her mind?” asked Harriet next to me. “I can’t sing that.”

Shanille was doing little movements with her paws, dancing in a circle, head and tail held high, just the way they did it in the musical Cats . I’d only seen it once. On YouTube. And it had failed to impress. Though I had to admit I enjoyed Barbra’s version of the hit song.

Other cats soon fell in, caterwauling with absolute abandon, the yowls and ear-splitting screeches lighting up windows all along the streets that lined the park. Soon voices could be heard from neighbors, and next thing we knew the shoes were raining down.

As Dooley dodged one particularly well-aimed shoe, he said, “Don’t these people ever run out of footwear?”

Apparently not. Meanwhile, Shanille was undeterred, and kept giving her moving rendition of Memory , swaying to the music like a cat under the influence of a powerful narcotic, possibly marijuana or some other hallucinatory substance. Other cats mimicked her movements, turning the performance into something akin to a first-grade school play.

The Most Interesting Cats in the World where mostly unimpressed. Shaking their heads, they decided not to stick around and left the scene before the grand finale, chuckling at the sad show. Looked like the visitors had won this particular competition.

Shanille hadn’t even noticed her audience had dispersed, for she kept belting out those hard-to-reach high notes. The moment her final shriek died away, she took a bow and a size-fifteen combat boot in the small of her back and was out for the count.

Things kind of petered out after that. The neighbor who’d thrown the boot must have known that if you want to defeat an army you take out its leader. With Shanille down, there was no sense sticking around, and we decided to set a course for the good old homestead.

“Shanille did well,” Dooley said. “She has a really good voice.”

“I thought she sucked,” Harriet commented, harsh theater critic that she was.

“But what about those Most Interesting Cats, huh?” said Brutus hoarsely. It was obvious those five cats had left an indelible impression on his impressionable soul.

Harriet snapped her head up. “If you like them so much, why don’t you join them!”

And with this crack, she stalked off, tail in the air.

“Harriet!” he cried after her. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Oh, yes, you did!”

“No, I didn’t! Harriet—come back!”

We watched as Brutus trotted after his mate. And then it was just me and Dooley.

“You know, we still haven’t found Burt’s cat Shadow,” he said.

“Yeah, we should probably have asked those other interesting cats.” Dooley had reminded me that we were seriously remiss in our duty towards our human: we had a crime to solve, and all this gallivanting around had put a serious crimp in our sleuthing efforts.

“Max?”

“Mh?”

“If Grandma moves out, do you think she’ll take me along with her to Colorado?”

I stared at my friend in shock. “You think so?”

He shrugged as we paused underneath a streetlamp. The hubbub of cat choir and its army of shoe-throwing fans were reduced to mere echoes, the soft sounds of the night now all around us. There was a nip in the air, and an owl was stoically hooting somewhere nearby.

“I don’t want to move to Colorado, Max. I like my life in Hampton Cove. I have my friends here.” He gestured at me. “And I have Odelia and Marge and Tex. I like Grandma, of course. She is my human. And if she moves away I guess I’ll move away, too. But I don’t mind telling you I don’t like it.” He shook his head sadly. “No, sir, I don’t like it one bit.”

“I don’t like it either,” I admitted. “I don’t want you to move away, Dooley.”

He heaved a deep sigh. “Well, let’s hope she stays. Then I can stay, too.”

We walked on. There was a soft rustling sound in the underbrush, and moments later a small rodent came peeping its twitchy nose out. It was a mouse. A nice, white, juicy mouse. The kind of mouse any able-bodied cat like me or Dooley would have enjoyed to chase.

It was a testament to our mood that we didn’t even give it a second glance.

Chapter 20

Odelia awoke in the middle of the night from a sense that something was amiss. It took her a few moments to realize what it was: no cats. Usually Max slept at the foot of the bed—at least when he wasn’t out and about, exploring Hampton Cove with his friends. After the ordeal he’d had, that was probably what he was doing right now.

Since she was up, she decided to head down to the kitchen for a glass of milk.

Next to her, the figure of Chase stirred. The cop was sound asleep, his arm draped across his pillow, his tousled hair visible in the diffuse light of a moon curiously peeping through the curtains.

She smiled. Now wasn’t that a sight for sore eyes? It was a long time since a man had slept in her bed, and this particular man was something else indeed. As she slipped her feet into her slippers, she thought about his words. Move in together? Was she ready for that?

She padded across the hardwood floor to the door, careful not to make a sound, and then snuck downstairs. In the kitchen she poured some milk into her Fozzie Bear cup and placed it in the microwave, then leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms. Through the kitchen window she could see the backyard, still plunged into darkness, the moon generously sprinkling its milky white light upon the world below.

The cat door hung motionless, and Max’s bowls were untouched, a testament to his roaming ways. He was probably in the park, where he and others of his kind enjoyed spending part of their nights. Cats are nocturnal animals, and like to be out and about while the rest of the world sleeps. She just hoped he was all right, and so were the others.

And as the microwave softly dinged and she took the cup between her hands and attempted a first sip of the warm brew, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Chase was walking into the kitchen, yawning, and she smiled.

“Up already?” he asked, joining her.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, and held up her cup. “Want some?”

“Sure. I’ll take mine with a little honey.”

“The man has a sweet tooth.”

“He sure has,” he said with a wolfish grin, and pulled her close, planting a kiss on her lips. It wasn’t the heat from the milk that spread through her but a completely different kind of heat. One she could definitely get used to. She didn’t know if it would help her sleep but suddenly she didn’t care so much about sleep anymore.

There was more kissing, and the cup of milk was soon transferred to the counter and so was her perky behind.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted Chase to move in with her, but she sure as heck wanted him to keep kissing her like this and bending her backwards over the countertop.

When they both came up for air, he took a sip from her cup and looked at her over the rim with those dark eyes of his. Something stirred and she said, “Let’s go back to bed.”

He smiled. “Thought you’d never ask.”

By the time Max and Dooley strolled in, Odelia and Chase were fast asleep, enjoying a well-deserved rest after some very strenuous midnight activities.

Chapter 21

The next morning, Odelia joined Chase as they drove off to work. He’d scheduled four more interviews with four more very interesting men, and wanted her there. He claimed she had a knack for getting people to confess stuff. That and he liked her company. How could she say no to an offer like that? Plus, she got to collect some great quotes for the series of articles she was writing on the explosive murder case.