Ник Сайнт: Purrfect Heat

“Alexa.”

She nodded. “I hope you’ll be discreet about it. I’d hate for our friends and neighbors to find out about this. Or my sister.”

“They’ll know soon enough,” said her husband. “Everybody talks, honey. Even the cops.”

“Oh, well,” she said, adjusting her dress. “It’s not like it’s a crime to have a good time. We are married, after all.”

“And even if we weren’t, there’s no law against ordering edible lingerie.”

“Brainard!” she whispered, tittering nervously.

“The Echo,” Odelia said.

Isabella heaved a little sigh. “The Echo,” she echoed.

Yep. Definitely one of the more interesting alibis.

Chapter 3

We all stared at the newcomer, who sat casually licking his front paw.

“He’s orange, just like you,” Dooley whispered.

“I’m not orange, I’m blorange,” I whispered back.

“What’s the difference?” Brutus hissed.

“Blorange is a reddish orange with rose hues,” I said.

They both stared at me, then at Diego, then back at me. “I don’t see the difference,” Brutus said.

“Well, there is a difference,” I said haughtily. “Maybe you should have your eyes checked.”

“My eyes are fine. You’re orange, he’s orange. It’s the same color.”

“It’s not the same color!”

“No, you’re right about that,” Brutus admitted. “You’re fat, he’s thin.”

“I’m not fat!”

Diego jumped up on the couch and casually stretched himself.

“Hey, that’s my spot,” I told Dooley.

“Tell him,” Dooley said.

“Yeah, Max. You have to stand up for yourself,” Brutus agreed. “Tell him that’s your spot.”

I hesitantly looked at Diego, then decided that he didn’t look dangerous. Maybe he was even nice? I walked over, and said, “Hi, my name is Max, and I think you’re in my spot.”

He gave me a supercilious look, then placed his head on his paws and closed his eyes.

“Um… There are plenty of perfectly nice spots in this house, and you’re welcome to them all,” I said. “But this spot? Where you’re lying now? That’s, um… well, not to put too fine a point on it, but that spot is actually my spot, see?”

He opened his eyes again, and yawned. “What did you say your name was, brother?”

“Um, Max?”

He held up his paw. “Put it there.”

I stared at his paw. “Put what there?”

“Give me some skin.”

“Skin? What skin?”

“Press the flesh, dude.”

“Press… the flesh? I… is that some kind of secret code?”

He sighed, then lowered his paw again. “Oh.”

I stared at him. “Oh? What do you mean, Oh?”

“You’re one of those.”

“One of what?”

“A lame duck.”

I gave a guffaw of incredulity. “For one thing, I’m not lame. And for another, I’m a cat, not a duck!”

“Whatever, dude,” he said, going back to sleep.

This was too much. I tapped his shoulder and he opened his eyes again. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear the first time, but this is my spot. You can’t just waltz in here and take my spot. That’s just… rude!”

“Hey, the blond babe said this was my house, so the way I see it? This spot is my spot. But, like you said, there’s plenty of other spots in this place, bubba. Take your pick. And now if you could stop talking. Baby needz his ZZZs.”

And he went right back to sleep!

I turned to face the others. I saw that Dooley was looking at me sadly, while Brutus was grinning like a fox. He seemed to be enjoying himself tremendously.

“Why don’t you try singing it to him, ‘bubba,’” Brutus suggested. “Or maybe you could send him a telegram and sign it, Max, heart heart heart.”

“So what do you suggest?” I asked.

“I’d simply kick him off that couch. And if he doesn’t like it, tough luck.”

“Max doesn’t kick cats off couches,” Dooley said.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because Max doesn’t believe in violence.”

Brutus laughed. “This is just hilarious!”

“Hey, fatso,” Diego said from the couch. “Zip it, will you? I’m trying to get some shut-eye here. Thanks, bubba.”

Brutus made a strangled sound at the back of his throat. “Fatso?!” he finally managed. “Did you just call me fatso?”

“Yeah, do you see another fat cat in here?” Then he caught sight of me and grinned. “Oh, I see what you mean. Okay, what about this: Hey, black fatso. Shut it.” He nodded at me. “I’ll call you orange fatso from now on. That all right with you, bubba?”

“No, it’s not all right with me!” I cried. “I’m not orange—I’m blorange!”

Diego rolled his eyes. “Tomato, tomahtoh. Blorange fatso, then, okay?”

“I’m not fat! I have big bones! It runs in my family!”

“And I’m not fat either,” Brutus cried. “I’m muscular.” He pounded his belly. “All muscle all the way. Not an ounce of fat.”

“If it helps you sleep at night, go ahead and fool yourself,” said Diego, stifling a yawn. “Hey, you, shorty,” he said, addressing Dooley now.

Dooley pointed at himself. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah, I’m talking to you. Do you see another short cat in here? Can you tell me when lunch is served? I’m real particular about eating times.”

Dooley was too stunned to respond. He just sat there, goggling.

Diego heaved out a sigh. “Short and dumb. What a combo. Maybe you can tell me, fat blorange cat. When do they serve lunch in this dump?”

“Max!” I cried, trembling with indignity now. “My name is Max!”

“Sure. Whatever you say, dude. So?” When I stared at him, he rolled his eyes again. “Geez Louise, do I have to spell it out for you? When. Do. They. Serve. Lunch. In. This. Dump? Never mind. I’ll ask the blond bimbo when she comes back. I’ll bet she’s smarter than you bunch of chumps.”

At this point, I, Brutus and Dooley all started yelling at the newcomer simultaneously. Unfortunately, he seemed oblivious, as he was staring past us in the direction of the French windows, which were open.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Diego said, finally displacing himself and gracefully jumping down from the couch. “Where did you spring from? Heaven?”

I turned around to see who he was talking to, and saw that Harriet had entered the room. She was eyeing the newcomer curiously. “Who are you?”

Diego walked up to the white Persian and grinned. “Diego. I’m new in town. And you are…”

“Harriet.”

“Lovely name for a lovely dame.”

“So…” She gave me a confused look. “Do you live here now?”

“Yeah, Odelia adopted me. I’m here to stay, babe.”

“Odelia adopted you?” Harriet asked.

“It’s a long story. I belonged to this old babe, then she transferred me to this cop dude, and he decided to offload me so now I’m here.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” she said. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”

He sighed. “Yeah, my life has not been a bed of roses, believe you me.”

“Now that you’re here, things are going to get better,” she said.

“Now that you’re here, I know things are gonna get better,” he purred, waggling his whiskers seductively.

Oh, God. The cheesy lines just kept on coming! I was waiting for Harriet to finally catch on and put this guy in his place, but instead she was giving him the same look she used to give Brutus when he first arrived in Hampton Cove. Both Dooley and I glanced over at Brutus, who seemed to sit stunned, glued to the spot, eyes wide, his jaw on the floor.

“Sweetness!” Brutus finally managed. “My precious!”

Harriet looked up, and gave him a curt nod. “Hey, Brutus.” But instead of going over to him and smothering him with revolting kisses, like she usually did, she stayed right where she was, checking out Diego.