Молли Фитц - Kitty Confidential

Rather than parking out front, I pulled around to the far side of the house to at least partially conceal my visit. As soon as I opened the car door, Octo-Cat hopped out onto the ground and walked in a crooked line toward the porch.

“Wait!” I called after him, taking another opportunity to survey the estate. “Are we really just going to walk right in?”

“Of course we are. This is my home.”

“Yeah, but isn’t it locked?” Despite all my various degrees and random knowledge, I’d never taken the time to learn locksmithing. Perhaps I could add it to my list for later, although that wouldn’t help us much now.

“Pssh. Only for humans. Watch.” Octo-Cat ran up the porch steps and stood before a little doggie door that was almost perfectly hidden within the stone face of the house. As he waited, the slab slid open, admitting him inside and leaving no doubt that Octo-Cat’s front door cost more than my entire month’s—maybe even year’s—rent.

I jogged up to join him, then lowered myself to my hands and knees to peer inside. The stone doorway shut right in my face but re-opened a few seconds later.

Octo-Cat trotted back outside with a smile curling across his short snout. “It’s good to be home.”

“Well, don’t get used to it. We’re only here to look for clues.”

“What are you waiting for, then? Come inside.” He slipped back in through his private entrance, and this time I was close enough to see a little light flash on his collar before the door slid open. Fancy.

Octo-Cat turned around to glare at me. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Just one small problem.” I reached my hand in after him. “I don’t fit.”

He shook his head slowly and raised a paw to his face in exasperation. “Then grab the key that’s under the shiny rock. Hurry up already!”

I groaned as I lifted myself back to my feet and searched the porch and nearby flowerbeds for the shiny rock he’d mentioned. Even having only met Octo-Cat earlier that day, I already knew better than to ask for help or further clarification. Honestly, you haven’t lived until you’ve been condescended to by a cat—although I don’t recommend the experience if you can avoid it.

As for me, I had no choice in the matter. At least not until I either solved the murder or proved no foul play had occurred, either of which I considered an equally likely outcome.

Octo-Cat jogged back out and tapped my calf with his paw. He made no effort to conceal his claws when doing so. “You’re looking in the wrong place,” he informed me with a bored expression.

I glared down at him and checked my leg for any fresh pricks of blood.

My kitty companion spun in a circle then hopped off the porch and began pawing at the corner where the house met the steps. There sat the first in a series of foot path lights, none of which had been illuminated despite the descending dusk.

I trotted back down the steps after him and pulled that first light right out of the ground. Sure enough, a small silver key lay buried in the earth beneath. “Good hiding spot,” I said as I bent down to pluck the key from its grave.

“Ethel was just as smart as she was kind,” Octo-Cat said with a reverence he didn’t normally possess. “She really was the best human. Too bad you never got the chance to meet her.”

I was just about to tell him how sweet I found that sentiment, when he added, “You really could have learned so much.”

“All right,” I said with a grunt, turning to face the stairs once again. “Let’s get on with this investigation already.”

The key slid into the lock perfectly, and a moment later I stood inside the regal entryway with no clue where to begin. Letting out a low whistle, I whispered, “This place is huge.”

Octo-Cat sighed. “Yeah, it’s perfect. Isn’t it?”

We stood in respectful silence as I took in all the expensive furnishings and decor. Even the light fixtures looked like they had been lifted from a seventeenth century castle. If I hadn’t already felt guilty about breaking into a dead woman’s home, then I definitely felt bad about snooping around amidst all these priceless possessions.

The tabby took off decisively toward the right, and I followed. A short while later we wound up in the kitchen.

I eyed the beautiful white oak cabinetry appreciatively. Everything about this place proved larger than life. The giant island in the middle of the space was about the same size as a king bed, and the stainless-steel fridge appeared to be at least twice the size of my tiny rental’s.

“Oh, good thinking,” I murmured, unable to tear my eyes away from what had just become my own personal kitchen goals. “Since the food was prepared here, we should look for any proof of poisoning we can find.”

At last I shifted my attention back to Octo-Cat. At least he didn’t mind me moving slowly if it was to admire his former home.

In fact, he looked quite pleased with himself now. “Mmm-hmm. The Evian’s in here.”

I followed his gaze to the pantry where, sure enough, dozens of bottles of his preferred drinking water were stacked on the lowest shelf. “Do we really need to do this first?”

“Yes, now hurry. I’m parched.” He lowered himself to the ground and waited.

I rolled my eyes but followed Octo-Cat’s orders all the same. After I poured him the specified amount in the specified dish, I went back to the pantry and grabbed several bottles of water and a couple dozen cans of Fancy Feast to help get us through our time together. At least now I wouldn’t have to spend a small fortune on Octo-Cat’s shopping needs.

He lapped appreciatively from the dish and then licked the outside of his mouth for good measure. “That hit the spot. Thanks.”

I resisted the urge to tap my foot impatiently, which seemed the human equivalent of all his tail flicking. “Now that you’re refreshed and rehydrated, perhaps you can show me around and help me see what you saw the night of the murder.”

“Yes, okay.” He crossed the kitchen at a slow, loping run, then jumped onto the counter.

I followed as he guided me toward the sink, which had been filled to the brim with dirty dishes.

“This is gross, but I’ll do it for Ethel,” he informed me before closing his eyes and sticking his nose into the middle of the mess.

He rooted around for a bit, then murmured, “It’s this one.”

I craned my neck but couldn’t see what he meant. “Which one?”

“I’m pointing at it with my nose,” came his muffled reply. “Please hurry, it’s not the most pleasant smell.”

One after the other, I pulled dirty plates from the sink. Each had a varying degree of salmon skin, rice grains, or butter glommed onto the surface, but I’d dealt with far worse than a couple day old dishes. The activity didn’t bother me nearly as much as it did Octo-Cat.

“There. That’s the one,” he cried, slowly backing out of the sink and immediately licking his paw. “Smell it.”

I did as he said but could only discern the faint smell of spoiled fish.

Octo-Cat rubbed his paw on top of his head, then brought it back down for more licks. “Now sniff another, and you’ll see what I mean,” he instructed.

I did as he said, making sure to take a good long whiff of each, but as far as I could tell they were no different. “What am I supposed to be smelling other than the fish?”

“Remember I told you about the funny smell?” He waited for me to nod, then revealed, “Only Ethel’s plate had it.”

“And this was her plate?” I asked, holding up the first for him to sniff again.

His face contorted in disgust. “Definitely.”

“I don’t know what I can do here. I can’t smell the difference, and I wouldn’t even know how to begin getting a forensics team on this.”