Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Heat

“So we discovered a clue,” I said.

“And I discovered that I’m about to die,” Dooley said morosely.

She stared from me to Dooley, clearly not sure where to begin, so I decided to help her out. “Montserrat, the cat that belongs to Erin Coka, told us her friend Fred saw a black Tesla parked in the alley behind the restaurant last night. And she’s sure it doesn’t belong to the owners of the place or anyone who works there.”

“I’m wasting away,” Dooley announced.

“So whoever killed Niklaus Skad drives an obsidian black Tesla,” I said. “Don’t thank us, thank Montserrat. And Fred.”

“It must be cancer,” Dooley continued. “What else could it be?”

“Um…” Odelia said. “First of all, thanks for the Tesla thing? Secondly, why do you think you’re dying, Dooley?”

“It’s Montserrat’s fault,” I told her. “She may be great at ferreting out crucial information like the killer’s ride, but she sucks at social niceties. Like, she told me I was fat? And then she went and said Dooley must be sick he’s so thin. I mean, who does that, right?”

“Montserrat is right. I am freakishly thin,” Dooley said.

“She didn’t say you were freakishly thin,” I said. “She said you looked like a stray and that your human probably doesn’t feed you enough. There’s a difference.”

“How is that different? She thought I was dying.”

“She didn’t think he was dying,” I told Odelia. “just that he’s thin.”

Odelia looked worried now. “Doesn’t Gran feed you enough?”

“Actually Gran doesn’t feed me anything,” Dooley said.

“Omigod, she doesn’t?”

“No, your mom feeds me. Gran forgets, so Marge took over years ago. She feeds Harriet and me, though Harriet gets special treatment, on account of her fur. She gets something that’s guaranteed to put the shine in a Persian’s fur.”

“So why is it this…”

“Montserrat,” I said helpfully.

“This Montserrat thinks you’re too thin?”

“Because she’s flaky,” I said.

“Because she sees a lot of strays, and she said I look like one.”

“You don’t look like a stray, Dooley,” Odelia said softly, picking up Dooley and depositing him right next to me. “You look like a very healthy, very happy cat.”

“You think so?” he asked hesitantly.

“Sure. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. You’re just thin, but that’s body type for you. Just like Max here is full-figured.”

“I prefer the term big-boned,” I said. “I have big bones. It’s in my genes.”

“Maybe I could go see a doctor?” Dooley asked. “I do feel a little weak.”

“Sure,” Odelia said, ignoring my groans of exasperation. “Why don’t we go see Vena? That way you can relax. And we better take you, too, Max.”

I gulped. “Me? Go see Vena? Why? I mean, why? Why Vena? Why?”

“Because when we went to see her last year she said you were too big for your size, and she wanted to put you on a diet, remember?”

I remembered. What a horrible suggestion! I’m not too big. It’s my bones. “But I followed the diet,” I reminded her. “I did everything she told me to.”

“Yes, and she also said we should come back in a year so she could check.”

“But… I don’t want to go. I’m fine. I followed the diet. I—I’m good.”

“We’re going,” she said firmly. “End of discussion.”

I gave Dooley an angry look. “This is all your fault,” I grumbled. “If you hadn’t gone all hypochondriac on us this would never have happened.”

“Max, be nice to Dooley. If he thinks there’s something wrong with him, we better have him looked at. And you, mister, were never going to escape Vena.”

“I wasn’t?”

“Of course not. She has you scheduled for next month. But since we’re taking Dooley anyway, she can take a look at you, too.”

I just knew what she was going to say. She was going to say I hadn’t lost enough weight and she was going to put me on that rotten diet again. Eating nothing but diet kibble for six months. No special treats. No chicken liver. No yummy surprises. “Just so you know, that diet stuff tastes like cardboard,” I said.

“Well, you better hope that you lost enough weight, then,” said Odelia.

No sympathy. No sympathy whatsoever. Humans are cruel. Just plain cruel.

“Oh, and we’re taking Diego, too. He has to get his shots and he has to be neutered.”

I shared a happy look with Dooley. Humans. Aren’t they the best?

Odelia tapped her space bar and a video started playing on her screen.

“This is some raw footage from Kitchen Disasters . Niklaus used to upload snippets for his upcoming show to his website. Now watch this.”

I watched this, and so did Dooley. All I saw was this Niklaus guy yelling and screaming at a chubby guy with a chef hat. The chef just kept on decorating a plate, looking thoroughly uncomfortable, his face a very unhealthy pasty white, until Niklaus snatched the plate out of his hands and dumped its contents into a trash can. The chef looked absolutely horrified after that, as if someone had taken his baby and thrown it away.

Odelia pressed the space bar again. “That was Hendrik Serarols being chewed out by Niklaus. Fun stuff, huh?”

“Pretty brutal,” I said.

“Yeah, that Niklaus guy was not very nice,” Dooley commented.

“No, he sure wasn’t,” Odelia said, swiveling in her office chair.

She picked up the phone. When it connected, she said, “Chase, any word on the Echo alibi?”

She pressed a button on her phone, and suddenly we could hear Chase’s voice. “To get the information from Amazon would take weeks, and require a warrant—maybe even a court order. Luckily the Stowes were so kind to let me listen in on their account. Did you know you can play back your own audio recordings and delete them if you want?”

“No, I did not know that. So was it as bad as I think it was?”

“A lot of moaning and giggling. Turns out they asked Alexa to give them instructions.”

“Instructions on what?”

He laughed. “What do you think, Poole? How to clean the sink? They asked Alexa to read them the entire Kama Sutra . They got to chapter five last night. And they ordered a bunch of saucy stuff on Amazon as well.”

I could see that Odelia was blushing slightly, and I wondered what this Kama thing was. I nudged Dooley, but he was still looking depressed. No amount of giggling and moaning could cheer him up.

“So their alibi checked out, huh?”

“Pretty much. First time I had to listen in on a couple’s recordings with the couple present. Brainard looked pretty proud of himself. Isabella? Not so much. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere but there. Still, it got them off the hook, so I’m guessing they’re fine.”

“So that’s one suspect you can scratch from your list.”

“Unfortunately, yes. What have you got so far?”

“I talked to Mrs. Niklaus Skad. Also known as Cybil Truscott.”

And while Odelia regaled Chase with the story of her meeting with Mrs. Truscott, I jumped from the desk, and so did Dooley. Frankly I’d heard enough. The investigation was still nowhere, and what was even worse: I was going to have to face Vena Aleman again, my worst nightmare. Not that the veterinarian is a bad person. She’s not. But she has this penchant for needles. It seems that each time Odelia takes me to see her she has to stick a needle in me. I hate it. They say it’s for my own good, but I doubt it. I secretly suspect her of being a sadist. And a sadist with a medical degree is a very bad thing. Especially for us cats, who are pretty much defenseless.

“So are you happy with yourself now, Dooley?” I asked as we left the Happy Bays Gazette office and ambled down the street. “Now you’ve got us both going to Vena again. And you know what happens when we go to Vena. We get stuck with needles. Needles in the butt, needles in the neck, needles in the tummy. You name it, she sticks it.”