“No, but…”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” She gave Odelia a fat wink. “Stick around, kid. You may learn a trick or two from this old dame.”
And with these words, she practically galloped through the sliding door and disappeared into the garden, no doubt eager to start practicing those eggs on her hoo-hee, whatever a hoo-hee was.
For a long moment, silence reigned, then Odelia said, “Right. I think I’ll just put that egg away, shall I?”
“So what is it for, exactly?” asked Harriet.
Odelia produced an awkward smile. “Decorative purposes?”
Harriet narrowed her eyes at her. “A decorative egg is going to make Chase very, very happy?”
“Yes, it will,” Odelia trudged on bravely. “Chase likes a nicely decorated… room.”
She was backtracking towards the staircase, and we all watched her go. Then, suddenly, she turned around and popped up the stairs. We heard her rummage around in her bedroom, a drawer opening and closing. Those drawers contained a lot of funny-looking stuff. Amongst other things, they also contained a small battery-powered rocket, though I had no idea why Odelia would need a pocket rocket in her bedroom.
Moments later, she returned, still that sheepish look on her face.
Humans. They’re just too weird.
Just then, the doorbell rang again.
“More eggs?” asked Harriet acerbically.
But when Odelia went to open the door, it was her uncle. Chief of Police Alec Lip. Like me, Chief Alec is big-boned. And, also like me, he’s a great guy. Always ready with a smile or a kind remark, which makes him real popular with the locals. He wasn’t smiling now, though, and when he opened his mouth to speak, it soon became clear why. “There’s been a murder. A really nasty one.”
Chapter 3
Odelia put the four cats in her old Ford pickup and followed Uncle Alec as he set the course in his police cruiser.
“So who died?” asked Max, who’d crawled up on the passenger seat, as was his habit when there was no one else in the car. No other humans, at least.
“A woman named Donna Bruce,” said Odelia, anxiously peering through the windshield. “She’s the one who sold Gran those green eggs.”
“She’s a farmer?” asked Max.
“No, she’s not a farmer. She’s a former actress who now runs a lifestyle website. A very popular one.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s happening in this town. It’s just one murder after another. If this keeps up, no tourists are going to want to come here anymore.”
“Why did Uncle Alec say it was a nasty murder?” asked Dooley from the backseat.
“Because the woman was murdered in a gruesome way.”
She could hear Dooley gulp. Gran’s cat was a sensitive plant when it came to things like murder, and she was starting to wonder if it was such a good idea to bring him along. Max, she knew, could handle himself, and so could Brutus and Harriet. But Dooley was the baby of the cat menagerie, and sometimes got spooked by his own shadow. “Maybe you better wait in the car, Dooley,” she suggested. “While the others snoop around.”
“But I want to snoop around, too,” said Dooley. “I love snooping around.”
She smiled. That was obvious. All her cats loved snooping around, which was why she took them along in the first place. They often talked to other pets, or even pets that belonged to the victims, and had proved invaluable when ferreting out clues.
Her uncle Alec was aware of this unique talent. Chase? Not so much, though by now he was used to this quirky side of her personality. He even thought it was cute. She’d never told him she could communicate with her cats, though, and probably never would. He might not take it too well.
She thought about Chase and a warm and fuzzy feeling spread through her chest. She’d never thought she would fall for the rugged cop but she had. And by the looks of things, he liked her, too, which was a real boon. They even shared a comfortable working relationship now, which was very different from the way things were when they first met. The burly cop, a recent transplant from the NYPD, wasn’t used to nosy reporters investigating a bunch of crimes alongside him. Fortunately she’d quickly proven her worth, and now he was more than happy to allow her to tag along.
As if he’d read her mind, Max asked, “So how are things between you and Chase?”
“Yeah,” Harriet chimed in. “When are you going to get married?”
She saw how Max and Dooley shared a quick look of panic and laughed. “Hold your horses, young lady. Who said anything about me and Chase getting married?”
“It’s all over town,” said Harriet with a shrug. “All the cats are talking about it.”
“Which means all the Hampton Covians are talking about it,” Max said.
That was true enough. The Hampton Cove cat community was like a barometer of the human community. She blushed slightly. “So what are they saying, exactly?”
“Well, that the wedding will take place later this year, though it might be sooner rather than later because the first baby is already underway.” The gorgeous Persian screwed up her face. “What is a shotgun wedding, Odelia?”
Odelia’s blush deepened. “A shotgun wedding? Is that what they’re saying?”
All four cats nodded. “I think it means that everybody brings a shotgun to the wedding,” said Brutus knowingly.
“Don’t be an idiot,” said Max. “Why would anyone bring a shotgun to a wedding? That’s just dumb.”
“Who are you calling dumb, fatso? They’re obviously bringing shotguns to make sure nobody crashes the wedding. Duh.”
“Crashes the wedding?” asked Dooley. “Is that even a thing?”
“Didn’t you see that movie last week? Wedding crashers? Two guys go around crashing weddings and having a blast,” said Brutus.
“Until they fall in love and get married themselves,” said Harriet. “I thought it was the most romantic thing ever. Though I didn’t like that they portrayed Bradley Cooper as such a nasty person. I like Bradley Cooper. He’s so handsome and cute.”
“He’s not that handsome,” said Brutus. “His mouth is too big for his face.”
“It is not. His mouth is just the right size.”
“The right size for what?” scoffed Brutus. “To load a Big Mac in one bite?”
“Listen, you guys,” said Odelia, interrupting this fascinating discussion of Bradley Cooper’s face. “For one thing, Chase and I are not getting married. And for another, I’m not pregnant so there won’t be a shotgun wedding.”
“That’s too bad,” said Harriet, her face falling. “I was looking forward to being a bridesmaid.”
“That’s impossible,” said Max. “Cats can’t be bridesmaids. That’s just preposterous.”
Harriet narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying, Max? That I wouldn’t make a wonderful bridesmaid? For your information, I would be the perfect bridesmaid. I don’t even have to wear a dress. I’m beautiful just the way I am.”
Odelia smiled. “That’s true. And if I ever get married, you guys will all get to come.”
Max groaned. “Do I have to? I hate weddings. Everybody is always crying. Those things are even worse than funerals.”
“People are crying because they’re happy, Max,” said Odelia. “Those are happy tears.”
“I don’t get it,” said the blorange cat. “Why cry when you’re happy? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes, it does,” said Harriet. “You wouldn’t understand, though, Max. And that’s because you’re a Neanderthal.”
“No, I’m not,” said Max. “I’m a cat, not a Neanderthal.”
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