Dog-Eared Delinquent (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 4)

by Molly Fitz

  I searched her face while she struggled to find her words.

  “He was close by and somehow it created a bond between you. I don’t know why you only got the one ability or why it hasn’t left you yet.”

  “Oh, but Bethany,” I said, once again crying for all I’d lost. “It has. Octo-Cat and I… We can’t talk anymore.”

  Then I realized something wonderful. “Can you fix it? Can you make things how they were again?”

  Bethany bit her lower lip and sucked a deep breath in through her nostrils. “I don’t use magic,” she said again. “But for you, I’m willing to try.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “The cruel irony is that the less one practices magic, the stronger she becomes,” Bethany explained as we settled into my home library side by side. Octo-Cat sat on my lap, but I’d asked Nan to sit this one out. As much as I loved her, I felt this moment needed to be private.

  “It’s all part of the great balance,” Bethany continued as I stared at the trees swaying in the gentle winds outside. “It helps to keep the power-hungry from becoming too powerful. Keeps the magic world hidden and safe.”

  “Moss mentioned some of this,” I said, nodding along as I recalled my time in the fishbowl.

  “As I already said outside, the fact that I’m a non-practitioner makes my magic abnormally strong,” Bethany continued. “But I’m not an expert in harnessing it. I can try to transfer some of it back to you, but it might not work.” She swallowed hard. “You could also get hurt.”

  “It’s worth the risk,” I said without hesitation, petting Octo-Cat as I spoke. “I’m ready.”

  “Our best chance at getting this to work right is to recreate the scene at the will reading as closely as possible. That’s why I brought you the jacket.” She nodded toward the blazer which sat crumpled in my lap, then picked up the reusable cloth shopping bag she’d brought inside with her.

  The moment I saw what came out of that bag, I jumped to my feet in sheer terror. “Keep that thing away from me!” I screamed as I stared at the old office coffee maker, refusing to so much as blink until it was safely put away. It had almost killed me the first time, and I didn’t doubt it could finish the job today.

  “We need to recreate what happened that day,” Bethany reminded me. “I’m sorry, but it’s the most surefire way to get this to work.”

  I shivered violently as I regarded the evil appliance. Could I do this? Could I face this deep-seated, albeit very rational, fear and live to tell the tale?

  Octo-Cat meowed and rubbed himself against my ankles. When I reached down to pet him, I found that he was purring. He gave me a sandpaper kiss, then jumped back into the window seat and rubbed his head against the coffee maker, keeping his eyes on me the whole time.

  I smiled despite my fear. “If he believes this will work, then so do I. Um, do you mind if I close my eyes first?”

  “Do whatever you need to do,” Bethany said, situating the coffee maker near the closest outlet. “I took the liberty of fraying the power cord some. Thought it might make for an easier electrocution.”

  Oh, joy.

  Octo-Cat mewled again. He believed in me, believed in us. I’d do anything to protect that even if it meant walking head-first into danger—which, apparently, it did.

  Bethany put both hands on my shoulders, and I felt a warm, pleasant sensation transfer from her to me through the blazer. “Are you ready?” she asked, pulling her hands away.

  I nodded, clenching my eyes tight as she guided me toward the coffee-making death trap. Octo-Cat stayed at my side every step of the way, and when I couldn’t find the cord with my eyes still closed, he pushed my hand in the right direction.

  There was only one thing left to do.

  With a deep breath—one I hoped wouldn’t be my last—I picked up the power cord and jammed it into the outlet. When the burst of electricity shot through my body, I collapsed and fell unconscious with a smile.

  “Angie? Angie? Are you okay?” Bethany asked, cradling my head in her lap as I came to.

  “What happened?” I asked. My mind felt… fuzzy.

  “Did it work?” she asked excitedly, disregarding my question entirely.

  Bethany helped me sit up, and I glanced around the room. We were at my house in the library I had claimed as my own special sanctuary. But why?

  Octo-Cat approached me carefully, almost as if he could catch whatever I had. “Yuck,” he said. “You still smell like that basement.”

  Tears filled my eyes and suddenly I remembered everything. “You can talk,” I said, sobbing freely.

  Bethany cheered and pumped a fist in the air.

  Octo-Cat shook his head in amazement. “Of course I can talk. I’ve always been able to talk. But now you can listen again. Oh my whiskers, I have so much to tell you.”

  “It worked,” I sobbed. “I’m magic again.”

  Bethany placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I think you’ve got it all wrong. Don’t you see? You’re not magic, but the bond you two share is.”

  “This sounds like an episode of the Care Bears,” I quipped.

  “My Little Pony would be the more recent reference,” Bethany said with a shrug. “But sure, Care Bears, yeah.”

  I gave her a tight hug despite the fact sarcasm simply dripped off her. “Thank you so much for helping us.”

  “Hey, don’t get too friendly there,” Octo-Cat warned as he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “She’s a dog, too.”

  “You’re a dog? Like Peter?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I can become a pit bull. I did it a few times in my school days to scare bullies away. Bully breed, indeed,” she said with a dry chuckle.

  “So what happens now?” I wanted to know.

  Bethany sighed and looked toward the door. “Unfortunately, I need to go.”

  “Okay, but I’ll see you at work tomorrow, right?”

  She shook her head. “I have to leave Glendale, I mean. Now that magic has been exposed, it isn’t safe.”

  I’d be sad to see Bethany leave but understood her position. “What about Peter and Moss? Are they going, too?”

  “Peter’s coming with me just as soon as I bail him out. Moss, on the other hand, will… Well, he’ll be around for a while.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “Peter turned Moss in to the cops so that he could plea out of felony charges.”

  “Figures,” I scoffed, thinking of neither man-animal fondly now that the worst was over.

  “I’m taking him to Georgia. It’s kind of like the magic capital of the world.”

  “Atlanta?”

  “No, a much smaller town called Peach Plains.”

  “Can you do me a favor before you go?”

  “I’ll help however I can, but remember, my magic isn’t very focused.”

  “Can you do that memory thing on me?” I begged her to understand. This was the only option for me now.

  Bethany stared at me in confusion. “Why would you want that?”

  I shrugged even though I’d already made up my mind and knew I wouldn’t be changing it any time soon. “I liked the world better when it made more sense. If the magic is leaving, anyway, then I think I’d rather not remember it.”

  Bethany thought about this for a second before nodding her agreement. “But you do understand that you also won’t remember why you can talk to your cat? And that if anything ever goes wrong again, you won’t know who to turn to for help?”

  I considered this, but it wasn’t enough of an argument to sway me. “We’ve become good friends. Haven’t we, Bethany?”

  Bethany smiled at me and gave me a quick hug. “Of course.”

  “Then just check in on us every so often. Make sure we’re okay.”

  “I can definitely do that,” she promised. “Now, before I try this, you’re sure you want to forget all of it?”

  “All the magic stuff, if you’d please.”

  Bethany raised one hand and made the whirling hand gesture I
’d seen both Peter and Moss use before. Soon I wouldn’t remember any of it.

  I watched her fingers dance gracefully before me. Bethany had always been so delicate and dainty. It was pretty hilarious that she could secretly turn into a pit bull. I liked knowing that, even if it wouldn’t last much longer…

  “There,” Bethany said, blinking at me curiously. “How do you feel now?”

  “A bit light-headed,” I answered, wondering why I suddenly felt so dizzy. “Can we open up the window and get some air flowing through here?”

  “Sure,” she said, kneeling down on my cushy window seat and cranking the glass open. Funny, I couldn’t even remember asking her over, let alone what we’d discussed during our visit so far.

  “Ahh, what a beautiful day it’s turned out to be,” Octo-Cat said, inhaling the sweet summer air.

  We both stuck our noses out and took deep, contented breaths. I closed my eyes and let the sun kiss my face. What a perfect day it had been. I couldn’t remember much about it, but knew I was happy—and also that I was blessed beyond measure.

  “What’s that cat doing?” someone asked from so close it startled me.

  “Do you think he’s going to eat us?” another voice wondered aloud.

  “Stop asking questions and fly away to safety,” a third said.

  I opened my eyes just in time to see a trio of gulls launch themselves off the roof.

  I desperately wanted to ask Octo-Cat if he’d heard them, too, but Bethany still stood nearby and she didn’t know our secret.

  I knew one thing for sure, though. Those birds had talked…

  And I’d understood every word they’d said.

  What’s Next?

  What’s even worse than having a snarky talking tabby as your best friend?

  When he inexplicably goes missing…

  Octo-Cat is gone, and all the evidence suggests that he was taken on purpose. With the growing number of people the two of us have put behind bars, it’s no surprise that someone’s out for revenge.

  But how will I ever manage to solve this particular crime without the help of my partner?

  The only other person who might be able to help me just relocated to Georgia. But I’m desperate enough to try anything, including exposing my secret to the whole of Blueberry Bay. Anything to bring him home safe.

  Oh, Octo-Cat. Where have you gone?

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  Sneak Peek of The Cat Caper

  My name’s Angie Russo, and I’m a cat person.

  Lately, that is the most important thing about me.

  Not that I’m a part-time paralegal and also a part-time private investigator. Not that I live in a giant East Coast manor house or that my quirky nan is one of my best friends. Not even the fact that I’ve managed to rack up seven associate degrees due to my academic indecisiveness.

  Nope.

  The most important thing about me is definitely the fact that I have a cat.

  But he’s not just any ordinary feline, mind you.

  He talks. A lot. As in hardly ever shuts up.

  And if you think your cat is demanding, just imagine what my life looks like.

  I have to feed him a particular brand of food in a particular flavor in a particular Lenox dish and at very particular times of days. He also only drinks Evian. I’ve tried to trick him in the past to save on this ridiculous expense, but—I kid you not—he knew the difference. And, boy, did I pay for that one.

  In all honesty, I can spare the expense, though. You see, my cat also has a trust fund—a big one. His previous owner was murdered, and it was by pure dumb luck that he and I ended up together. That is, if you can call almost dying at the hands of a faulty coffee maker “luck.”

  I mean, I do.

  I love my life and would change very little about it. I do plan to quit my paralegal gig soon to pursue detective work full-time. Naturally, my cat would be my partner in that operation. He watches so much Law & Order that he practically has an honorary degree in criminal justice, and he’s got claws that he isn’t afraid to use when we find ourselves in a tricky scrape.

  Other than his sometimes gratuitous violence and over-the-top television addiction, he has plenty of other unique skills that make him an indispensable partner, too. First, there’s the fact we can communicate. Obviously, no one ever suspects that the curious-looking feline across the way is actually listening in on their conversations.

  When you add Nan to the mix with her background in Broadway and knack for creating colorful characters and then bringing them to life flawlessly, we have quite the little operation.

  So, go ahead and eat your heart out, Scooby Doo.

  If you’re wondering about me and who I am outside of being a cat owner, I’ll make this real simple for you: I’m the Velma of the group. I love researching, learning, wrapping my mind around any and every puzzle that comes our way.

  I have a near photographic memory and a knack for mnemonic devices, but lately my brain has been a tad less reliable than I’d like.

  Usually, I remember everything without fail. Ever since this new guy Peter Peters started working at the law office, though, things have definitely gotten a bit fuzzy. I hated that guy almost instantly, and I’m pretty sure he has something to do with the fog that’s taken up residence in my head… But I just can’t remember why.

  Lucky for me, he’ll be leaving the state very soon. Unluckily, he’s taking his cousin Bethany, a former partner at the same firm, with him. She was a good friend, and I’ll definitely miss having her around. Still, I get the fact that she needs to be there for her family—even if this particular member of her family is the creepiest guy I have ever met in my entire life.

  Honestly, it’s probably time for me to quit, anyway. Well, just as soon as I work up the nerve to let down my secret crush by handing in my two weeks’ notice. I’ve had the hots for our senior partner, Charles Longfellow, III, ever since he moved here from California and began working his way up the ranks at our firm. He’s only a few years older than me, a legal prodigy and also someone who’s had a few lucky strokes like I have—so no judgement, please.

  I’d probably have bitten the bullet and asked him out by now, but he has a girlfriend now. By the way, I hate her and not just because she’s standing in the way of what I’m convinced could actually be true love, but because she’s mean and bitter and has never shown me an ounce of kindness in our entire acquaintanceship.

  At least she’s not a murderer, although I did suspect her of a double homicide a few months back. We solved that one, though, and got both her and her brother off the hook. We also solved the murder of a prominent senator who used to live right next door.

  And as ready as I am to hang up my sign as a full time P.I., I’d much rather be chasing white-collar criminals around town than the homicidal maniacs I’ve been dealing with as of late. Because that’s the thing about murderers, they’re dangerous with a capital D. It stands to reason that eventually one of them is going to want revenge on the crazy girl and her cat that got them arrested in the first place.

  I just hope I’m ready when karma comes calling…

  I almost ran straight into Nan when I returned home from work that sunny afternoon.

  “Look what I made for you today in my community art class!” she cried, completely unbothered by the fact I’d almost knocked her into the antique stained-glass windows that flanked either side of our front door.

  I took one giant step back and studied the sizable metal sign she held between her aged hands.

  “Pet Whisperer, P.I.” I read aloud, then grabbed the thing to take a closer look—and almost dropped it as soon as the heft transferred to my hands. “Oof, this is really heavy!”

  Nan shook her head and tutted at me. “Well, it’s not made of paper, dear.”

  “What kind of art class are you taking, an
yway?” I said as I appreciated how the various scrap metals had come together to create something new and beautiful.

  “It’s a little bit of everything—sculpture, welding, landscapes, still-lifes, nudes.” She winked at that last one, and I had no idea that meant it was her entire reason for signing up in the first place.

  “Sounds like a good time,” I said with a laugh. My nan was always finding something new and exciting to occupy her time. Apparently, this included advertising my closely kept secret to all of Blueberry Bay.

  Nan caught me studying the sign with a nervous expression and explained, “It’s for your business, dear. Seeing as I’m your assistant, I figured I’d make myself useful.”

  “But we haven’t even officially opened yet,” I argued. I loved Nan and was excited she wanted to help, but the added pressure didn’t make this big career transition any easier on me.

  “Yes, you really do need to get on with it, already,” my grandmother told me as she furrowed her brow in my direction.

  I groaned even though she was one-hundred percent right about this. “Okay, but I don’t want people to know I talk to animals, remember?” That was the other weird thing about the last couple weeks.

  My memory was a bit fuzzy, but also my mind seemed to be more open. I still didn’t know how I could talk to Octo-Cat, but lately I’d been able to hear other animals besides him, too.

  First there were the birds on the rooftop, then a curious squirrel in my garden. I’d even managed to listen in on a great, big buck I’d startled in the woods outside our manor house. My ability to understand other animals was touch and go, and also a brand new complication in my already crazy life.

  It had always been Octo-Cat and only Octo-Cat, and I really didn’t know how I felt about becoming a full-on Dr. Doolittle these days. If word spread among the animal kingdom that I could understand their needs, would they all start swarming me with their legal problems?