Молли Фитц - Kitty Confidential

I had to try.

I swallowed hard and put on the same semi-famous smile that had landed me this job in the first place. “I’m fine. I’ll probably head out early but wanted to check in first to grab my car and let you all know I’m okay.”

“Great. See you tomorrow, then. Sleep in a little if you think it will help.” Mr. Fulton patted me on the shoulder and glanced pointedly toward the door.

I knew he was just looking out for me, but I couldn’t leave without first talking to that cat, especially if there was a murderer afoot. Hopefully Mr. Fulton would thank me for my stubbornness on this matter later.

I stood my ground, twisting my hands before me. “Actually, I was wondering if the cat was still around. He seemed pretty worried, and I wanted to let him know I’m okay.”

Husband and wife exchange a worried expression.

“It’s okay, dear. We’ll tell him for you,” Diane informed me kindly.

I hated lying, but desperate times…

“It may not be okay,” I warned then jumped with both feet straight into my lie. “I did a course on Animal Psychology back at Blueberry Bay Community College, and it would help if he could see for himself that I’m fine. Otherwise, um, behavioral problems could arise due to sublimated anxiety.”

Mrs. Fulton stared at me in confused horror. “Oh, no, we don’t want that!”

Mr. Fulton chuckled. “You said it, honey. Especially since he’s staying with us for the foreseeable future. We don’t want old Octavius taking out his sublimated anxiety on our new curtains.”

And there it was. Another golden opportunity, one I was too greedy not to grab hold of.

“You know… He’s probably already quite anxious. More than likely depressed, too, what with his owner dying and his whole life being uprooted.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that.” Diane’s brow pinched with concern. “Can cats get depression?”

I almost had her.

Nodding vigorously, I dug my hooks in deeper. “Most definitely, and since they can’t exactly take anti-depressants, they really need someone who knows how to recognize the signs and treat them naturally.”

“What are you suggesting?” Mr. Fulton asked. Unfortunately, his face gave nothing away.

Shrugging, I try to act disinterested in the outcome to really sell it now. “I know I’m just a paralegal, but I did take that course and I’ve always had a way with animals, especially cats. Since you have so much going on with the family and the estate, maybe I should take him off your hands for a few days. I could keep him out of your hair and help him work through his depression, if you want.”

They looked at each other, exchanging a look I couldn’t quite discern. I supposed that type of thing came with being married for thirty-plus years.

Diane was the one who finally answered for both of them. “It would be a huge help to us, but are you sure?”

With a massive placating grin, I answered, “It would be my pleasure.”

Yes, a pleasure—and hopefully not my funeral instead.

CHAPTER FOUR

With the Fultons’ blessing, I let myself into the senior partner’s office and immediately spotted the cat. He sat right in the center of the leather desk chair like some kind of Bond villain. I half expected him to pull out a smaller, fluffier cat to stroke intimidatingly while he spoke to me.

“Took you long enough,” he mumbled, obsessively licking his paw. Despite all I had been through to get back to him, he didn’t even bother to look up at me. I’d known this cat for all of five minutes and could already tell that he was a major jerk.

If I’d only been grappling with the talking to animals problem that day, I probably would have walked away then and there. But, no, someone had been murdered—and a sweet old lady at that.

“I came as fast as I could,” I hissed, wondering how he liked that little dose of his own medicine. “It’s not like you had anywhere else to be.”

He snorted and said something about busy schedules and important routines. I didn’t exactly catch everything because he spoke incredibly fast.

Whatever the case, there I stood, conversing with a cat in a way we both mostly understood. If I was crazy, then at least I was consistent about it. Now that I’d found and confirmed my ability to talk to this cat, it was time to learn his impossibly long moniker. “What’s your name again?”

He rolled his amber eyes then rose to his feet. “Weren’t you paying attention? I’m Octavius Maxwell Ricardo Edmund Frederick Fulton.”

No wonder he talked so fast. It was the only way for him to spit out that name without risking the other person falling asleep right in the middle of it. I tested out the strange name, hoping that if I got it right he might be a little nicer to me. “Octavius Maxwell Richard…”

“Ricardo Edmund Frederick Fulton,” he corrected. “Honestly, it’s not that hard.”

He hopped off the chair and paced toward me, irritation flashing in his snake-like eyes. Somehow it was now my fault he had a ridiculous long name. Well, I refused to be bullied by a creature that I easily outweighed ten-to-one.

“My name’s Angie. Thanks for asking, by the way.”

He stopped walking and crinkled the skin above his nose. “Well, that’s boring. It’s got no ring to it at all.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I hissed, which made me wonder if I was speaking cat or if he was speaking human.

The tabby’s voice took on a kinder tone for the first time since I’d met him. He sighed, and said, “Well, we can’t all be Octavius Maxwell Ricardo Edmund Frederick Fulton, the First.”

“Wait, did you just add to your name to make it longer? No, this is not going to work. Even if I could remember your string of, like, eight names, I am not saying all of them whenever I want to get your attention.”

“Whatever.” He widened his eyes at me and yawned. What a bratty cat. Hopefully if I put him in his place he’d start treating me as an equal instead of an incompetent servant.

“Since you’re on board, I’m shortening your name to… to… umm…”

“Nice to see your mind is just as sharp as your name.” He let out a mewling laugh, which I ignored.

“Shut up, Octavius… Octagon… Octopuss… Octo-Cat! That’s it. From now on, I’ll call you Octo-Cat.” I felt so proud of myself for that cute nickname that fit him like a glove. Not even his bad attitude could bring me down now.

“Octo… Cat.” He sneered and batted at the air between us. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, your first name is Octavius, and you have like eight names total, so—”

He padded the ground and spun in a circle. “No, my first name is Octavius Maxwell Ric—”

“Enough! Do you want me to go back to Octo-Puss? Because I can.”

He began to say something, but the sound of the door creaking open stopped us both mid-conversation.

Diane’s head appeared in the doorway before the rest of her. “Everything okay in here? I thought I heard voices.”

I stood up straight and brushed off the knees of my pants, flashing my friend with an ingratiating smile to promise I wasn’t crazy. “Totally fine. I was just introducing myself and letting him know he’s going to be living with me for a few days.”

She glanced toward Octo-Cat, who chose that exact moment to plop himself on his rump and start licking his kitty bits. “You’re talking to the cat?” she asked, but it didn’t really sound like a question.

I fixed my eyes on her to show I wasn’t embarrassed, even though I mostly definitely was. “Of course. It helps them to forge an emotional bond which will be important even for the brief time we’re living together.”