Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Heat

‘Shut. Up!’ he mouthed back.

“Did you see her?” Brutus asked now.

“Yeah, we saw her,” Dooley said with his best pastor’s voice.

“Was she still… you know?”

“Yep, she was still giving mouth-to-mouth to that orange menace,” I said.

“Oh, God!” Brutus cried, and buried his head in his paws. “Why?!”

“It’s just a fling,” Dooley said. “She’ll snap out of it. She’s just temporarily blinded by passion. Once the initial zing wears off, she’ll see Diego for what he really is: a cad and a nasty piece of work. Trust me, Brutus, once she sees through him she’ll come crawling back to you.”

Now it was my turn to make eyes at Dooley. I pointed at him. “Come back to you, you mean,” I whispered.

He shook his head. “I’m in the friend zone, Max. I’ve always been in the friend zone, and I’ll always stay there as far as Harriet is concerned. And I’m fine with that. There are more important things in life than being Harriet’s boyfriend.”

“No, there are not!” Brutus wailed.

I went back to patting the big guy on the back. “There, there,” I muttered, for lack of anything better to say.

“I promise you, Brutus,” Dooley said, making a last-ditch attempt to get Brutus to back away from the precipice. “This pain will go away.”

For the first time, he looked up. He looked horrible. His eyes were all red and weepy and his nose was all runny. He wasn’t the Brutus I’d come to know and hate. Not by a long shot. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Dooley said.

He gave us both a watery smile. “You guys are the best friends.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” I said blithely. Even though I’d shaken paws with Brutus and declared ourselves buds, I still had my doubts about his intentions. But now wasn’t the time to get into all of that.

“Us cats have to stick together,” Dooley said. “Hey! I’ve got an idea! Why don’t I wrangle us up some chicken wings?”

“Can you do that?” Brutus asked between two sniffs.

Dooley tapped his brow with a knowing smile. “Power of the mind, Brutus. Power of the mind.” And then he squinched his eyes shut and thought really hard, even placing his paws on his temples to speed up the process.

Chapter 14

That night, the whole family met for dinner. Tex had gotten his famous barbecue skills out and was overseeing the proceedings with his customary flair. Mom had baked a ginormous apple pie that now stood chilling on the kitchen windowsill. Gran had wanted to invite Leo over for dinner but Mom and Dad had put their foot down. No repetition of the beach scene in their house.

Chase had arrived, as Uncle Alec’s guest, and had brought a bottle of the best—Chardonnay from the looks of it—and Odelia was happy to see him, which was a big change from before, when she used to scold her mom for inviting the burly cop. The cats were all there, except for Harriet and Diego, who were conspicuously absent. Brutus, Dooley and Max sat on the porch swing, looking on as dinner progressed, with Brutus looking like a shadow of his former self.

Odelia had no idea what was going on with him until she remembered about Diego making a pass at Harriet. Apparently the Persian’s allegiances had shifted once again, and this time it was Brutus whose heart had been stomped on.

“So what’s all this about a big murder investigation?” Dad asked as he placed a nice, fat kabob on her plate.

She added roasted baby potatoes with rosemary and garlic and dug in. “Famous chef got killed, Dad,” she said. “Niklaus Skad.”

“Oh, the Kitchen Disasters guy? I loved that show!”

Tex Poole, a bluff man with a shock of white hair, loved all cooking shows. He considered himself something of a cuisinier , though the only thing he did well was barbecue. Still, if it made him happy, that was all that mattered.

“Poor man,” said Mom, a delicate, fair-haired woman. “I thought he was a little too harsh on his candidates from time to time, but I think he meant well.”

“He was brutal,” Uncle Alec said, dumping a glob of mayonnaise on his potatoes. “It was car crash television at its best.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” said Gran, who’d been moping all this time. She was probably missing her Leo. “A lot of these so-called chefs can’t cook for crap, and Niklaus Skad didn’t mince words when he told them so. The fact that they couldn’t cope was their problem, not his.”

“I thought he was overly harsh,” said Chase, munching down on a sausage. “The way he treated restaurateurs was uncalled for and more about boosting his ratings than a genuine desire to see those restaurants he selected do better.”

She smiled at Chase. “That’s exactly what I thought, but you put it so much better.”

“I guess I have a way with words,” said Chase.

“You’ve got a way with your lips,” said Gran. “There’s a difference.”

“Mom,” said Chief Alec warningly. “Let’s keep it civilized.”

“I am keeping it civilized. I’m just like Niklaus Skad: I say it like it is.”

“Well, there’s a difference between saying it like it is and intentionally hurting people, and Skad crossed that line many times on his show,” said Alec.

“Which is probably what got him killed,” Odelia added.

“Amen to that,” her uncle said, clinking his glass of Chardonnay against hers.

“So how was the interview with Hendrik Serarols?” she asked. She’d forgotten to ask her uncle about that.

“He’s a suspect,” said her uncle.

“A very strong suspect,” Chase added.

“Who’s Hendrik Serarols?” asked Tex, flinging more kabobs on the grill.

“The chef at Fry Me for an Oyster ,” Odelia explained.

“He was the one who suffered the most abuse,” Chase said. “There’s a video online of Niklaus having a go at him.” He shook his head. “Not pretty.”

“I saw that,” said Odelia. “So did he have an alibi for last night?”

“He does, but he doesn’t want to supply it,” said her uncle.

She frowned. “He’s refusing to tell you where he was?”

“Yup. He says he was nowhere near the restaurant, but when I asked him where he was, he refused to tell me.”

“That’s odd,” said Mom.

“That’s suspicious,” Gran said. “If you ask me, he did it.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” said Alec.

Chase dabbed at his lips with his napkin. “He had motive—he had opportunity—and he’s certainly strong enough to have pulled this off. I say we have plenty of grounds for an arrest, Chief.”

“And I say my gut tells me he didn’t do it.” They all looked down at Chief Alec’s sizable gut, and he laughed. “Now don’t start with me, you people.” He patted his round belly. “A good chief needs bulk.”

“A good chief needs muscle,” Chase chided him.

“Fair enough. I have gained a few pounds. And I blame my sister’s cooking.” He glanced at Marge, who smiled indulgently.

“A good chief needs to be fed properly,” she said. “And I know that if I don’t do it, you certainly won’t.”

That was true enough. After his wife had died, Uncle Alec had let himself go for a while, snacking on fast food and anything he could get his hands on. Since then, Mom had taken him under her wing, and now he ate out here most nights.

“Great food as usual, Mrs. Poole,” said Chase appreciatively. “Doc.”

“Thanks, Chase. It’s nice to cook for someone who appreciates it,” said Mom.

“I think you should lock up this chef and force him to supply you with an alibi,” said Gran, who was starting to sound as harsh as Niklaus Skad.

Chief Alec grimaced. “I’m doing no such thing, Mother. And may I remind you that I’m the one in charge of this investigation and not you?”