Purrfect Obsession

But Wolf had made Con an offer he couldn’t refuse: set up a production company together, financed by the woman Wolf would go on to marry, and after some hesitation Con had agreed. They’d quickly settled into their respective roles: Con took care of the business side, with Wolf handling the creative stuff. But part of Con’s duties was also scouting new young talent to put in minor roles. This entailed trolling YouTube for fresh faces. Like Odelia.

“Hey, Odelia,” he said now, slurring his words only a tiny bit.

“I can’t imagine how tough this must be on you,” she said. Con had been the one to recruit Dany, after all.

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s the first time since I entered civilian life that I’ve lost a member of my team. Like you said, it’s tough.” He shook his head. “She was so young and full of life. A rising star. I’d already offered her a part in Wolf’s next Broadway gig. She was going places, that kid.”

“Do you have any clue who might have done this to her?”

“Not a one. I’ve been wracking my brain. Why kill the loveliest, most innocent and sweetest soul on the planet? I mean, if you’re going to kill someone, why not kill that guy?”

Odelia followed his gesture, and saw he was directing a scathing look at Don Stryker. To be honest, she harbored some harsh thoughts about the man herself, but murder?

“I don’t think we should say such things,” she said therefore.

“No, of course,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that... Of all people—why Dany?”

The fervor with which he spoke these words suddenly made Odelia suspect there was more than professional interest at play here. “You liked her, didn’t you?” she said.

He nodded, staring down into his drink. “She was a lot of fun to be around.”

“There’s a rumor going around that... Wolf and Dany were an item.”

Con didn’t look up, nor did he respond.

“And that she was blackmailing him?” she prodded.

He looked up, and she was surprised at the anger that flashed in his eyes. “She was too good for a guy like Wolf. Too sweet and too innocent. If only I’d known...” He abruptly stopped himself when he realized who he was talking to, then plastered a tight smile on his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve had too much to drink, and I’m boring you with my sad sack stories.”

“No, that’s all right. Do you think Wolf could have something to do with Dany’s death?”

He stared at her for a moment, then abruptly turned away and left her standing there.

“Well, it’s as good an answer as any, I guess,” she muttered to herself. It told her that she should probably look deeper into this affair between Wolf and Dany. She suddenly caught sight of Wolf’s assistant Kerry, who stood cuddling Wolf’s beloved Chihuahua. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and a slow smile crept up her face.

Yes. This was exactly the kind of assignment Max and Dooley would love.

Chapter 18

A tense hush had descended upon the house. Dooley and I were keeping Brutus company, even though I really didn’t want to choose sides on this one. Still, I could hardly leave the poor guy alone in this, his darkest hour. What I really wanted to do was attend cat choir and maybe sniff around the crime scene a bit more. You never know who else might have caught a glimpse of the killer. I mean, potentially a murder taking place in a park is seen by dozens of witnesses: the birds sitting in the tree overlooking the spot where the killer has chosen to plunge a knife into his hapless victim’s chest, a dog sniffing that same tree and contemplating making a small deposit, even the earthworms popping up for a bit of fresh air, or the moles taking a break from digging their holes—though the latter have notoriously bad eyesight and might not be the most reliable witnesses imaginable.

And then there were the aforementioned ducks quietly quacking away in the pond. Brutus had persuaded one duck to come forward and volunteer a formal witness statement, but perhaps there were other ducks—the quiet ones who rarely quacked—who’d seen more and could provide the telling clue. The mole on the killer’s nose. The harelip he carefully tried to hide beneath a bushy mustache. Or even the cleft chin that made him oh, so attractive to the opposite sex—a fact which will always puzzle me. Why are cleft chins so attractive to the human female? It’s a chin. With a cleft. Nothing special.

So there really was a lot of work to be done, and all I could do was sit there and babysit Brutus and nurse his wounded soul. Such a shame.

“Did you see the look on her face?” he said. “It spoke volumes.”

It did speak volumes. Volumes of verbal abuse. “It’s all those soap operas,” I repeated my favorite theory as to Harriet’s terrible temper. “If only she would watch more of the always pleasant Hallmark Channel, she might not be this unreasonable all the time.”

Brutus snapped his head up. “Harriet is not unreasonable. She’s the most reasonable feline in existence. In fact she’s put up with my horrible habits all this time, not a whisper of annoyance crossing her lips.”

I’d heard plenty of whispers of annoyance pass Harriet’s lips—in fact they weren’t whispers but more fully formed sentences, very eloquently and colorfully expressed. I wasn’t going to play devil’s advocate right now, though, so I wisely shut up. If Brutus wanted to believe Harriet was an angel sent by the heavens to walk this sacred earth, so be it.

“She used to call me all these wonderful names. Tootsie roll. Snuggle bunny. Twinkle toes. Baby boo. And now all she can say is what a cad I’ve been—and she’s right!” he wailed.

He was sitting slumped on the couch, his paws sticking out, his otherwise shiny black fur unkempt and looking dull in spots. In fact he looked like the epitome of the jilted male. Which he was. Only he’d jilted her first, if we were going to split hairs.

“Did you know that the spiny dogfish shark’s pregnancy lasts two years?” asked Dooley, who was watching the Discovery Channel, which was playing quietly in the background.

“No, I didn’t know that,” I said.

Silence reigned for a moment.

“Did you know unborn sharks sometimes eat their siblings?”

I groaned softly.

“And that sharks can have up to 35,000 teeth in their lifetime? Imagine being a shark dentist! Ha ha.”

“Ha ha,” I said without enthusiasm.

Once again, silence hung heavy in Odelia’s small salon. Except for the shark show which apparently was on.

“Did you know—”

“Dooley! Enough with the sharks already!”

Silence returned, with Dooley looking offended.

“Max?” asked Brutus at length.

“Mh?”

“Could you give Harriet a message? I know she won’t listen to me, but maybe she’ll listen to you.”

I was about to graciously say no to this idea when I figured that the sooner Harriet and Brutus reconciled, the sooner the four of us could be out there hunting for clues again.

“Fine,” I said therefore. “What do you want me to tell her?”

“Tell her...” He frowned, then directed a curious glance at me. “What do you think I should tell her?”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I exclaimed. “How should I know? She’s your girlfriend!”

“Yes, but you’ve known her all her life. You know what might swing the deal.”

I rolled my eyes. I’m not your poetic type, so I had no idea what to tell a jilted woman who’s decided to jilt her boyfriend in return.

“Tell her you’re slowly pining away in remorseful sorrow,” suddenly Dooley said.

We both stared at him. It made for a nice change from the shark trivia.

“And tell her that soon there will be nothing left but a greasy spot on the couch.”

Brutus pursed his lips. “I’m not sure I like it, but it is very powerful. Especially that part about the greasy spot. Max,” he said, making a swift decision, “go for it, buddy.”

“Oh, all right,” I said, dragging myself up from my comfortable position on the couch.

I slouched to the kitchen door, shuffled through the pet flap, slumped through the backyard, wormed myself through the hole in the hedge, shambled through Marge and Tex’s backyard, shoved myself through the second cat flap and crawled into the house and into the family room. No sign of sharks there. Instead, a rerun of Scandal was on, and the president was getting a tongue-lashing from his chief of staff. Uh-oh. This didn’t bode well.

“Harriet,” I said, arriving at the foot of the couch that held Gran, Marge, Tex and Harriet, all lined up like so many statues, eagerly following the exploits of Scandal’s not-so-monogamous president.

“What do you want?” Harriet grunted.

“Message from Brutus,” I said, hoping this would attract her attention.

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested,” she said, making her meaning perfectly clear by flashing a shiny claw.

I gulped. I may have a layer of fat to protect me from claws like that, but I’m not immune to pain. In fact I hate it.

“Oh, just hear the cat out,” said Gran.

“What is he saying?” asked Tex.

“He says he has a message from Brutus,” said Marge.

“Let’s hear it,” said Gran. “And be quick about it. Something’s about to happen with Twisty Fitzy and I don’t want to miss it.”

“We saw this episode already, Mom,” said Marge.

“I know. But I’ve forgotten. And don’t you remind me!”

“Brutus says he’s in…” Dang. Now I couldn’t remember what it was Brutus wanted me to say. So I decided to do what all good actors do: wing it!

“Well?” said Harriet, impatiently tapping that nail on the edge of the couch.

“Brutus says you’re the love of his life and every second he can’t spend with you is a second lost forever. He’s in decline, losing weight so fast soon there’ll be nothing left but a smudge on the couch.” There. It wasn’t verbatim, but I figured I’d gotten the gist of the thing nicely across.

Harriet appeared unmoved, however. “Tell him I don’t care if he dies and rots in hell,” she growled.

“Harriet,” Marge said warningly. “Language.”

“Oh, all right. Tell him I’ll be happy to dance on his smudge.”

“Harriet!” said Marge. “Brutus is still a member of this family and you’ll treat him with respect.”

“He doesn’t respect me, so why should I respect him?” she challenged.

“Prima donna,” Gran muttered.

“I heard that,” Harriet snapped. “And I resent the slur.”

“What is she talking about?” asked Tex.

“Nothing worth listening to,” said Marge.

“Oh,” said Tex, disappointed.

“Lovers’ tiff,” Gran clarified.

“This is not a lovers’ tiff!” Harriet said. “He cheated on me and if I never set eyes on that black cat again, it’ll be too soon! And you tell him I said that,” she added for my sake.

So off I went again, this time in the opposite direction. Slouching, slumping, shuffling, worming and finally wending my way home. I arrived at the house, where I was met by two eager eyes boring into mine. Brutus was actually panting. “And? And? What did she say?”

I decided to keep this whole thing PC. “I think you’re going to have to try harder, Brutus,” I said. “She wasn’t receptive to the whole concept of the, um, smudge-on-the-couch thing.”

“What do you mean, she wasn’t receptive?” asked Dooley. “That was some of my best work. Though it’s a greasy spot, not a smudge.”

“Hold your horses, Shakespeare,” I said. “I think it’s going to take more than a few well-wrought sentences to convince Harriet to clasp Brutus to her bosom once again.”

“Oh, to be pressed to my love’s bosom,” said Brutus, suddenly becoming lyrical.

“You probably didn’t do my words justice,” said Dooley. “Next time I’ll come with you.” He shook his head. “If you want something done, you have to do it yourself.”

“Next time?” I said. “There’s not going to be a next time. You asked me to be your go-between and I was. Now I’m going to take a nap and try to forget this whole business.”

“Wait!” Brutus said. “Please, Max. You have to help me. You’re the only friend I’ve got.”

“And what am I? Chopped liver?” asked Dooley. “I’m your friend, too, Brutus.”

“Of course,” said Brutus. “And I can’t thank you enough. Now, please, tell Harriet... Oh, dammit! Why can’t I think of the right words to say?”

Dooley touched his paw to his chest. “Allow moi, my friend. I’ll give you all the words.” He assumed the position of Rodin’s The Thinker for a moment, then said, “Harriet, love of my life. Treasure of my heart. Please accept my deepest, most heartfelt apologies. I’m a swine, a creep, a louse. I’m less than the dirt under your nails, worse than the most disgusting rat that slinks through the sewers of this town, filthier than the creepy crawlies that slither from underneath an overturned rock. I’m filth, I’m slime, I’m nothing, I’m—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Brutus grumbled. “I get the picture.”

Dooley pointed an imperious finger in my direction. “Messenger. Deliver my decree.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” I said. “You deliver your decree.”

“Better yet, we’ll deliver my decree together,” Dooley said. Then, addressing Brutus, added, “Don’t you worry about a thing. When in doubt, grovel, and I’m about to grovel on your behalf like no cat has ever groveled since that first cat crawled out of the woods and offered his services as a mouser to that first human in exchange for a roof over his head.”

And off we went, with Brutus’s halfhearted blessings, to heal this rift.

“Now what is it?” Harriet said, none too pleased with my swift return.

This time I was prepared to let Dooley do the talking. He didn’t disappoint.

He knelt in front of Harriet. “Oh, great and noble one. Oh, most beautiful cat in all of existence. Oh, most gorgeous creature ever to walk the face of this earth. Oh, sweet and—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said. “Get on with it.” She looked oddly pleased, though. Never underestimate the power of a compliment. Or a barrage of them.

“Brutus wants you to know he’s deeply, sincerely sorry. He also wants you to know that he knows that you know that he’s less than the dirt under your claws, less than the rats that infest the nooks and crannies of this town. Less than the muck that oozes out of the pipes when you unscrew that bulbous thingy underneath the sink to unclog the drain.”

“Yuck,” Gran muttered.

“I know all that,” said Harriet. “Now tell me something I don’t know.”

“What are they talking about?” asked Tex.

“Oh, more stuff,” said Marge vaguely. “Harriet, don’t you think it’s time you forgave that poor cat?”

“No, I don’t,” she said. “He cheated on me with Darlene and I’ll never forget and I’ll definitely never forgive.”

“He says he never sniffed Darlene’s butt,” I said, feeling it was time to set the record straight.

“Oh, please. Tell him he’s a liar. I saw him sniff her butt.”

“He was trying to tell her he wasn’t interested. That he only loves you.”

“He had his nose up her butt!”

“That was just a matter of perceptive,” said Dooley.

“Perspective,” I corrected.

“What?!” cried Harriet.

“Perspective. Like when you think an object is far away while in fact it’s right in front of you. Darlene’s butt was here, while Brutus’s nose was there, and never the twain met.”

“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes, not impressed.

“Oh, give the cat a break,” Marge said. “He almost drowned today.”

“And was almost run over,” Tex added, happy that for once he could follow.

“Yeah, he almost died twice today,” Marge said.

Judging from Harriet’s expression, almost wasn’t good enough. She’d only be happy if Brutus was run over not once but three times in a row by a succession of vehicles, until he actually was a smudge on the asphalt, and preferably she’d see Darlene suffer the same fate.

“Let’s go, Dooley,” I said finally. “This is no good. We’re wasting our time here.”

“But he loves you, Harriet,” said Dooley. “Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Harriet hesitated, but then her expression hardened. “No, it doesn’t. He hurt me, Dooley, and I’ll never be able to forgive him for that.”

And Dooley and I were both making our way back to the other house when he said, “I didn’t know love was so complicated, Max.”

“Oh, it is, buddy.”

“Good thing we never got involved in something like that.”

“Yeah, good thing,” I agreed.

“I just hope Odelia and Chase never get into that kind of trouble. If we can’t even reconcile two cats, how are we ever going to reconcile two humans?”

“Odelia and Chase are never going to get into that kind of trouble,” I said. “And you know why? Because Chase is smart. And so is Odelia. They’re both smart. And in love.”

We entered the house and I was surprised to find Odelia seated on the couch, absentmindedly stroking Brutus’s fur. She looked distraught.

“Oh, no!” I cried. “You broke up with Chase!”

Chapter 19

Odelia stared at Max. “Why would I break up with Chase?”

“Um, no reason,” he said, looking sheepish after his outburst.

“And where is Harriet?”

“Next door. She won’t talk to me,” said Brutus sadly. He then looked up at Max and Dooley, who both shook their heads.

Odelia decided to ignore her cats’ odd behavior. “You guys. I need to ask you a huge favor.”

“Anything,” said Max instantly.

“As long as it doesn’t involve groveling to Harriet,” said Dooley. “Because that doesn’t work. And believe me, we tried. Oh, boy, did we try.”

“Right,” said Odelia after a moment’s hesitation. “The thing is, I think Dany and Wolf Langdon were having an affair.” In a few words, she briefed her cat menagerie about the events that had transpired at the meeting.

“So you want us to break into the manor and take a peek at Wolf’s phone?” asked Max.

“No, I’ll take care of that part myself. What I want you to do is talk to Wolf’s pet. If Wolf and Dany were having an affair that ended badly, he’ll know about it.”

“Oh, Wolf has a pet. How nice. What kind of cat is it?” asked Max.

“It’s not a cat. It’s a Chihuahua.”

Her three cats were silent for a beat, then Max cried, “A dog?! You want us to talk to a dog?”