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Purrfect Peril The Mysteries of Max 7

Nic Saint

Puss in Print Publications

Contents

Purrfect Peril

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Epilogue

Excerpt from Purrfectly Flealess (The Mysteries of Max Short)

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Purrfect Peril

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When the Most Fascinating Man in the World is murdered in a Most Fascinating Way, Odelia Poole, who was on her way to interview the man, finds herself embroiled in a Most Fascinating Murder Investigation, along with her boyfriend Chase Kingsley, homicide detective. More Interesting Men soon come crawling out of the woodwork, and all of them had a reason to kill their Most Interesting Colleague. So who’s the culprit? And will he or she strike again?

Meanwhile Max, Odelia’s blorange tabby, has his own problems to contend with in the shape of a pernicious flea infestation that gets him and the other cats sent to the place they fear even more than the loss of one of their nine lives: Vena the vet. And as if that’s not bad enough, there’s a persistent rumor going around that Chase Kingsley might be moving in with their human—and they know what that means: babies! Which would spell the end of their cushy lives.

Between the fleas, the baby menace, a troupe of Most Interesting Cats invading their world, Grandma Muffin’s latest antics, and helping Odelia with the murder investigation, life is once again lived in the fast lane for the cats of Hampton Cove, with not a moment’s respite. In other words, business as usual for the world’s most hilarious cat sleuths.

Prologue

Burt Goldsmith poured another bottle of bubbly over his head, the effervescent gold nectar fizzing as it hit his mane, trickled down his trim physique, and splashed across the floor of the shower cabin. He rubbed the expensive liquor into his remarkably well-preserved face—remarkable for a seventy-eight-year-old—and his thick thatch of white hair—another astonishing feat—and sighed contentedly. Other, lesser people might enjoy rubbing conditioner into their scalp but as the reigning Most Fascinating Man in the World he preferred a substance somewhat less mundane. A nice bottle of Moët & Chandon served his purposes just fine. He would have preferred Piper-Heidsieck but the hotel he was currently gracing with his exclusive presence had run out of his favorite brand so the Moët would have to do.

And it did. As soon as he’d splashed the contents of a second bottle across the remainder of his corpus, he was ready to face another day. He stepped from the pink marble shower into the pink marble bathroom and strode confidently into the adjoining bedroom, not bothering with a towel, sprightly moving to the window overlooking Hampton Cove’s busiest street. He didn’t go so far as to step out onto the balcony to greet the milling throngs below, but he did fling the window wide and sampled a lungful of air, planting his feet wide, hands on his thighs. The Most Fascinating Man in the World didn’t do towels. The Most Fascinating Man in the World air-dried.

As he stood there, his white hair flapping in the breeze like a lion’s mane, he glanced to the side table that bookended the bed and noticed a silver salver with a single bottle of beer and a note. He remembered hearing the room service person announcing his arrival and shouting him in from the bathroom. He hadn’t ordered room service, but figured another fan had left him another little present. His lady fans were always sending him personal items like edible panties or lacy little things accompanied by cheeky invitations to join them for lunch or dinner or—even more interestingly—into their boudoir.

The bottle of beer disappointed him. At first he presumed Tracy Sting had sent it up. A reminder of their lunch date. Tracy represented Dos Siglas, the well-known Mexican beer brand for whom Burt had made the popular Most Fascinating Man in the World commercials for the past fifteen years. He’d come to the Hamptons to shoot another commercial and Tracy was here to set everything up and make sure Burt had everything he needed and more. His idea of more, however, wasn’t a bottle of Dos Siglas. Personally he despised the stuff. Dishwater, he liked to call it. After all, beer was the drink of the plebs. He preferred champagne, the nectar of the gods and godly men like Burt Goldsmith.

As he stood there, his hairy chest thrust out, he suddenly noticed there was something off about this particular bottle. It didn’t have the typical slender shape of Dos Siglas. Instead it was squat and plump, like a bottle of Tres Siglas, Dos Siglas’s main competitor.

A sudden rage ripped through him. He knew who had sent him this bottle. Curt Pigott, the Most Compelling Man in the World. A man openly challenging his dominion as the world’s premier interesting man at every turn. A man dying to steal his crown. He growled a few words unfit for print under his breath, his very short and very manly beard bristling with rage, his bronze physique shedding those final few drops of Moët & Chandon Brut Impérial, and balled his fists.

This was the third time this week Curt had done this. Taunting him. Challenging him. Trying to get under his skin.

It wouldn’t work. Nothing got under the skin of the Most Fascinating Man in the World unless he sent it a personal monogrammed invitation to do so.

He crossed the floor to the side table in three powerful strides. He picked up the note, ascertaining that, yes, the bottle had indeed been sent by the Most Compelling Man in the World, and yes, it was a bottle of Tres Siglas prime ale. His dark eyes shooting sheets of flame, he crumpled up the note, picked up the bottle, which was cold to the touch, drops of condensation dappling the amber surface, and aimed it at the trashcan where it landed with a dull thud.

The explosion that blasted through the room took only milliseconds to turn the Most Fascinating Man in the World into the Most Fascinating Dead Man in the World, and Burt’s nice hotel room into a conflagration of fire and fury.

Chapter 1

Odelia Poole walked briskly along the street, her purse hiked high, her light blond hair bouncing jauntily around her shoulders, her slender frame clad in her usual work costume of white T, jeans and sneakers. She was on her way to one of the more exciting interviews of her career as a reporter for the Hampton Cove Gazette. Perhaps even the Most Exciting Interview in the World, she thought with a slight grin, as the interviewee she was about to meet was an actor who had made a name for himself as the Most Fascinating Man in the World, featuring in dozens of well-received ad campaigns for Dos Siglas beer.

Initially her editor Dan Goory had wanted to conduct the interview, big fan as he was of Burt Goldsmith and the man’s body of work. But Odelia had insisted. She couldn’t wait to meet the man—the legend—the icon. She had her list of questions written out, the recording app on her phone ready, and only a few more minutes separated her from the sit-down.

She glanced up at the Hampton Cove Star, the boutique hotel in downtown Hampton Cove, located right across the street from the Vickery General Store on Main Street, where all Hampton Covians like to stock up on supplies and shoot the breeze with Wilber Vickery, store owner and one of the town’s mainstays and longtime citizens.