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Ник Сайнт: Purrfect Crime

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Ник Сайнт Purrfect Crime

Purrfect Crime: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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When former actress and lifestyle guru Donna Bruce is found murdered in her sauna cabin, stung to death by bees, Odelia and Chase are on the case. Meanwhile Odelia’s tabby Max has his own issues to deal with. The vet has decided the flabby tabby is too flabby and has put Max on a strict diet. Feeling weak and out of sorts, the blorange cat has a hard time coming up with original ideas to solve the crime his human is grappling with. And then there’s the fact that Odelia has decided that this time Harriet, her mother’s white Persian, is in charge of the case, leading the feline sleuths even further astray. Harriet’s idea of investigating a crime is surfing the web and sifting through Internet gossip, and since Odelia doesn’t seem to be making any headway in the case it’s up to Max and Dooley to save the day and find that telling clue that will lead them to Donna’s killer. Will Max be able to stick to his diet? Will Gran be able to control her online shopping habits? And will Odelia and Chase finally go on their first date? Find out in Purrfect Crime, the fifth installment in the funny cozy cat mystery series The Mysteries of Max.

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“The kids?” asked Odelia.

“Yeah.” Uncle Alec frowned at his notebook. “Sweetums and Honeychild. Good thing they weren’t here when it happened.”

“Oh, those poor babies,” said Odelia.

“Big babies,” said Uncle Alec. “Sweetums and Honeychild are six.” He shook his head. “Who gives their kid a name like that?”

“Donna Bruce,” said Chase, staring down at the victim. He glanced up at the chief. “So am I in charge of this thing, Chief?”

“Yes, you are,” said Chief Alec. “Along with Odelia—in an entirely unofficial capacity, of course.”

Chase gave her a grin. “Looks like the gang is back together, babe.”

She returned his smile. “Yay.”


Chapter 4


“Do you really think Odelia is getting married?” asked Dooley.

I shook my head. “No way. Odelia doesn’t lie. If she was getting married she would have told us. In fact I’m pretty sure we’d be the first to know.”

“But why is everybody saying she’s having this shotgun wedding?”

“People talk, Dooley. You know that and I know that. That’s what they do.”

He thought about this for a moment. “You know, you might be right, Max.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m always right. You should know that by now.”

We were walking around the back of the house. I don’t know what we were hoping to find, but at least something that would shed some light on what had happened here. And if we were really lucky, maybe even an eyewitness account of the murder with a nice description of the murderer. Humans might think they’re pretty smart by avoiding the attention of other humans when they’re out murdering each other, but they never give a second thought to the pets they encounter along the way.

Behind us, Harriet and Brutus were still engaged in their lover’s quarrel.

“I don’t see why you have to go and fall for this Bradley Cooper guy,” Brutus was saying. “Not only does he have the face of a Neanderthal but he’s human! Cats don’t fall for humans. That’s not natural, Harriet. And it’s humiliating for me as your boyfriend.”

“I just like his face,” said Harriet. “Is that so bad? He has a fascinating face.”

“A human face,” Brutus pointed out. “You can’t like a human face, sweet pea.”

“I can, too. You can’t tell me what I can and can’t like, Brutus. I’m a free cat.”

“Oh, is that why you were kissing Max the other day? Huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, God. Not again! I wasn’t kissing Max. I already told you what happened.”

“Yeah, you stubbed your toe and you tripped and fell and ended up hitting Max’s lips with yours. I know what you told me. I’m just telling you I’m not buying it. Who trips and hits another cat’s lips? That’s just crazy! Besides, why did you keep on kissing him for a full minute after that?”

She heaved an exasperated groan. “Like I said this morning, I thought he was you, sugar lump. Until I discovered he wasn’t and then I stopped.”

Brutus shook his head. “I don’t know, bunny duck. I just don’t know.”

“Oh, buttercup,” she said, taking his head in her paws. “You know I only love you. My very own cuddly daddy.”

At this, Brutus seemed to relent, his scowl melting away like butter on the griddle. “Oh, my snookums,” he purred. “Sweetie cakes.”

“Chocolate bunny.”

“Smoochie poo.”

And then, inevitably, there was smooching. A lot of smooching.

Dooley moaned. “Why do they have to do that right under our noses?!”

“Because they only have eyes for each other, Dooley,” I said. “Wait until you’re in love.”

“I’m never falling in love again,” said Dooley bitterly. “Love is a curse.”

We managed to put some distance between ourselves and the loved-up couple, and a good thing, too. Brutus has this competitive streak. Whenever there is a murder to solve, he wants to solve it first, and he doesn’t care what he has to do to ‘win.’

We’d arrived in the backyard and I raised an eyebrow in admiration. The yard was perfectly maintained, the grass as smooth as a pool table. An actual pool had been installed, with an actual pool house and a nice row of chaise lounges placed right next to it. It all looked very inviting, or it would have if Dooley and I were human. As it was I didn’t care about pools. Not that I’m scared of pools. I just don’t like that they’re full of water. Water is wet.

And that’s when I saw them: two poodles, one brown, one beige, were lying on top of the chaise lounges, their eyes closed, enjoying some R&R.

“I think we might have our first witnesses,” I told Dooley, gesturing with my head to the two mutts.

“Dogs?” asked Dooley. “Why does it always have to be dogs? Why can’t rich people keep cats instead?”

“Because they think dogs are great for keeping the burglars away.”

“Cats keep burglars away,” Dooley argued. “In fact we’re better equipped for the task. We can see in the dark. Dogs can’t. And we have sharp claws. Dogs have those silly excuses for claws.”

“Dogs can bite,” I reminded him. “And they bark.”

“I meow! Have you heard my meow? I meow up a storm.”

“Not exactly the same, Dooley.”

The dogs had spotted us and had curled their upper lips up in a snarl, making that annoying threatening noise at the back of their throats. As if that was supposed to impress us. Puh-lease.

“Hey there, guys,” I said, walking up to the duo. “How’s it hanging?”

“And who are you?” asked the brown poodle, none too friendly.

“My name is Max,” I said by way of introduction. “You may have heard of me. I’m an ace feline detective. And I’m here to solve the murder.”

“Murder? What murder?” asked the beige one.

“The murder of your human? Don’t tell me no one told you.”

“Our human wasn’t murdered,” said the brown one. “She’s just sleeping. In the sauna. Isn’t that right, Rex?”

“That’s right, Rollo. She’s just taking a little nap in the sauna. I just saw her.”

“And I saw her, too.”

“She’s not sleeping,” said Dooley, venturing up with some trepidation. “She’s dead.”

Rex and Rollo shared a look of amusement, then burst out laughing. “No, she’s not,” said Rex. “You silly cat. You’re funny. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that humans have to sleep just like we do?”

“Yeah, and when they sleep they look dead but they aren’t,” Rollo added.

“Look, I’ve had a human since forever,” I said. “So you don’t have to teach me the difference between a dead human and a sleeping human. I know the difference. One is breathing and the other ain’t. And for your information, your human isn’t sleeping—she’s dead.”

“Cats,” said Rex, shaking his head. “They’re a real hoot.”

“Yeah. Think they know it all.”

They placed their chins on their front paws again and stared at us, quickly losing interest.

“So tell me why there are so many cops around?” I said, not giving up.

Rex shrugged. “Donna likes to invite people.”

“Yeah, Donna’s a real people person. Always hosting parties.”

“For the police?” I asked.

“Sure,” said Rollo. “Why not? Police are human, too. They like to party.”

“Only they’re not partying now, are they?” I asked, exasperated. “They’re examining the dead body of your human, trying to figure out who made her that way.”

Rex and Rollo shared another knowing look, then shook their heads with a smirk. “Cats,” Rollo repeated. “You gotta love them.”

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