Final Ride

by Nic Saint

  “I’m not overweight. I’m just… big-boned. It runs in the family.”

  “It’s for your own good,” she said. “If you don’t start dieting again, you’ll just get in trouble.”

  “I won’t get in trouble, I promise!” I cried. Anything not to have to go to Vena, who is just about the vet from hell. For some reason she loves sticking me with needles and suggesting to Odelia that she feed me kibble that tastes like cardboard. The woman is my own personal tormentor.

  “It’s not your fault,” Odelia said as she started down the stairs. “I indulge you. I keep buying those snacks that you like so much and I probably overfeed you, too.”

  “No, you don’t,” I said, desperate now. I trotted after her, my paws sounding heavy on the stairs. “I only eat the bare minimum as it is. In fact I’m always hungry.”

  She paused and listened to the pounding my paws made on the stairs. “You hear that? That’s not normal, Max. You’re not supposed to walk like that.”

  “Like what?” I asked, pausing mid-step.

  “Like an elephant trampling in the brush.”

  “I don’t sound like an elephant trampling in the brush,” I said indignantly, but made an effort to tread a little lighter. Only problem was, it’s hard to tread lightly when you’re going downhill. Gravity, you know.

  “And Vena said that when you get too big it’s bad for your heart. Fat tissue builds up around the organ and that’s not a good thing.”

  “My heart is just fine,” I promised, tapping my chest. “Healthy as an ox!”

  “And you look like one, too,” said Brutus. The black cat was right behind me, and obviously enjoying the conversation tremendously.

  “I’ve booked you an appointment, too, by the way, Brutus,” said Odelia now.

  We’d reached the bottom of the stairs and she walked into the kitchen to start up the coffeemaker. How people can drink that black sludge is beyond me, but then a lot of stuff humans do makes no sense at all. Like putting a perfectly healthy cat on a diet!

  “Me!” cried Brutus. “Why me?!”

  “Because Chase told me he doesn’t remember the last time you went. So it might as well have been never.” She frowned. “Though you are neutered, so you must have gone at least once.”

  A deep blush crept up Brutus’s features. At least I think it did. It was hard to be sure with all that dark hair covering his visage. He cut a quick look at Harriet, who pretended she hadn’t heard. “I, um—I’m sure that’s not possible,” he said now.

  “That you’re neutered or that you didn’t go to the vet in years?” Odelia asked deftly, taking a cup and saucer from the cupboard over the sink.

  Brutus appeared to be shrinking before my very eyes, a sight I enjoyed a lot, I have to say. “Both,” he said curtly, now actively avoiding Harriet’s cool gaze.

  “Don’t worry, Brutus,” said Dooley. “We’re all neutered. Max is neutered. I am neutered. Even Harriet is neutered. Isn’t that right, Harriet?”

  “None of your beeswax,” Harriet snapped.

  “Beeswaxed?” asked Dooley. “I’m pretty sure the right word is neutered.”

  “Dooley!” Harriet said with a warning glare.

  “What? What did I say?”

  “Oh, come off it, you guys,” said Odelia, crouching down. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about. If you weren’t neutered I’m sure we’d have a fresh litter every couple of months, and we can’t have that now, can we?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Harriet muttered. It was obviously still a sore point.

  “Because I can’t take care of so many cats,” Odelia said softly. “You see that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, just do the math,” said Dooley. “Three litters a year times eight kittens a litter that’s…” He frowned, looking goofy for a moment, then said, “… a heck of a lot of cats!”

  “It is,” said Odelia. “And I’d just end up having to bring them to the shelter. And I don’t need to tell you what happens to cats that end up at the animal shelter, do I?”

  “They are adopted by loving humans?” Dooley ventured.

  “They die, Dooley,” Brutus growled. “They all die.”

  Dooley uttered a cry of horror and staggered back a few paces. “No, they don’t!”

  “Oh, yes, they do. And then they’re turned into sausages and people eat them!”

  “Brutus!” Odelia said. “Don’t scare Dooley.” She gave Dooley a comforting pat on the back. “They’re not turned into sausages. But they’re not adopted, either, I’m afraid. At least not all of them. Though I’m sure a lot of them find warm and loving families.”

  “See!” Dooley cried triumphantly. “They’re all placed with their very own Odelias!”

  “Thanks,” said Odelia, rising to her feet. “Now about Vena…”

  Lucky for us the bell rang at that exact moment, and Gran came rushing in through the glass sliding door, looking like she was about to lay an egg.

  “Is he here?!” Gran croaked anxiously. “Is he here?!”

  “Is who here?” asked Odelia, moving to the front door.

  “The UPS guy, of course!”

  Gran is a white-haired little old lady, but even though she looks like sweetness incarnate, she’s quite a pistol.

  “See?” asked Dooley, turning to me. “This is what I told you.”

  “What did you tell me?” I asked. The morning had already been so traumatizing my mind had actively started to repress the memories.

  “About Gran ordering a bunch of stuff online and Marge and Tex having to pay for it.”

  Odelia had opened the door and Dooley was right: a pimply teenager in a brown uniform with ‘UPS’ on his chest stood before her, a big, bulky package in his hands. “Vesta Muffin?” he asked.

  “That’s me!” Gran squealed and darted forward, grabbed the package from the teenager’s hands and ran to the living room with it.

  Odelia signed for the package and sent the kid on his way. “What’s going on, Gran?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” said Gran, eagerly tearing open the package.

  We all gathered around, and since it’s hard to see anything from the floor, we all hopped up onto the chairs to have a good look at this mysterious package.

  Gran, licking her lips, finally succeeded in ripping away the packaging, and before us lay three shiny green eggs. Huh.

  “Gran,” said Odelia in her warning voice. It’s the voice she likes to use when me or Dooley have been up to no good, which, obviously, practically never happens.

  “What?” asked Gran innocently. “I need them. I’m dating again.”

  What a bunch of green eggs had to do with dating was beyond me, but, like I said, humans are weird. And in my personal experience no human is weirder than Gran.

  “You’re dating again?” asked Odelia. “I thought that after Leo you were done with all of that.”

  Leo was a horny old man that Gran used to run around with. We kept bumping into them in the weirdest places, practicing the weirdest positions. All very disturbing.

  “Done with dating?” asked Gran indignantly. “Oh, the horror! How can anyone be done with dating? Didn’t anyone ever tell you that sex only gets better with age?”

  “Like a fine wine,” said Dooley, though I doubted he knew what he was talking about.

  “The only thing that doesn’t improve is my hoo-hee. Which is why I need these.”

  “What is a hoo-hee?” asked Dooley innocently.

  Odelia blushed slightly. “Nothing you should concern yourself with, Dooley.”

  “You don’t know what a hoo-hee is?” asked Gran, raising an eyebrow. “What about hoo-ha? Lady bits? Fine China? Lady garden? Vajayjay?”

  Dooley shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Gran laughed. “You’re funny, Dooley. Doesn’t ring a bell. I’ll bet it doesn’t ring your bell, but it sure as heck rung Leo’s bell, and there’s plenty of Leos out there.”

  “I’ll just bet there are,” Odel
ia muttered, picking up one of the green eggs. “So how do you use these?” Then she noticed four pairs of cat eyes following her every movement and she put the egg down again. “Never mind. I’m sure I don’t want to know.”

  “And I’m sure you do,” said Gran. “If you want to entertain your fellow you need to practice the fine art of the jade egg, honey.”

  “Something to do with energy and healing, right?” asked Odelia with a frown.

  Gran threw her head back and laughed. “Of course not! It’s all about training those pelvic muscles. You want to get a good grip on your fella’s…” She cast a quick look at Dooley. “… fella. Increase the pleasure—his and yours. Trust me,” she said as she placed one of the green eggs in the palm of Odelia’s hand, “you’ll make your man very, very happy.”

  “That happy, huh?” asked Odelia as she rolled the smooth green egg in her hand.

  “Happier,” said Gran as she let the other two eggs disappear into the pockets of her dress. She gestured at the box. “Can you let this disappear, honey? Your mom and dad don’t need to know.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Odelia. “You’re not going to have this… stuff arrive here from now on, are you?”

  “Of course I am. I hate to break it to you, Odelia, but your parents are ageists. They think just because I’m old I’m all shriveled up down there.” She patted her granddaughter on the cheek. “Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact I’m pretty sure I get more nookie than those dried-up old prunes.”

  “Hey, that’s my parents you’re talking about.”

  “I know, which is why I’m so glad you’re nothing like them. You wouldn’t stand in the way of your grandmother enjoying her golden years, would you?”

  “No, but…”

  “Of course you wouldn’t.” She gave Odelia a fat wink. “Stick around, kid. You may learn a trick or two from this old dame.”

  And with these words, she practically galloped through the sliding door and disappeared into the garden, no doubt eager to start practicing those eggs on her hoo-hee, whatever a hoo-hee was.

  For a long moment, silence reigned, then Odelia said, “Right. I think I’ll just put that egg away, shall I?”

  “So what is it for, exactly?” asked Harriet.

  Odelia produced an awkward smile. “Decorative purposes?”

  Harriet narrowed her eyes at her. “A decorative egg is going to make Chase very, very happy?”

  “Yes, it will,” Odelia trudged on bravely. “Chase likes a nicely decorated… room.”

  She was backtracking towards the staircase, and we all watched her go. Then, suddenly, she turned around and popped up the stairs. We heard her rummage around in her bedroom, a drawer opening and closing. Those drawers contained a lot of funny-looking stuff. Amongst other things, they also contained a small battery-powered rocket, though I had no idea why Odelia would need a pocket rocket in her bedroom.

  Moments later, she returned, still that sheepish look on her face.

  Humans. They’re just too weird.

  Just then, the doorbell rang again.

  “More eggs?” asked Harriet acerbically.

  But when Odelia went to open the door, it was her uncle. Chief of Police Alec Lip. Like me, Chief Alec is big-boned. And, also like me, he’s a great guy. Always ready with a smile or a kind remark, which makes him real popular with the locals. He wasn’t smiling now, though, and when he opened his mouth to speak, it soon became clear why. “There’s been a murder. A really nasty one.”

  Chapter Three

  Odelia put the four cats in her old Ford pickup and followed Uncle Alec as he set the course in his police cruiser.

  “So who died?” asked Max, who’d crawled up on the passenger seat, as was his habit when there was no one else in the car. No other humans, at least.

  “A woman named Donna Bruce,” said Odelia, anxiously peering through the windshield. “She’s the one who sold Gran those green eggs.”

  “She’s a farmer?” asked Max.

  “No, she’s not a farmer. She’s a former actress who now runs a lifestyle website. A very popular one.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s happening in this town. It’s just one murder after another. If this keeps up, no tourists are going to want to come here anymore.”

  “Why did Uncle Alec say it was a nasty murder?” asked Dooley from the backseat.

  “Because the woman was murdered in a gruesome way.”

  She could hear Dooley gulp. Gran’s cat was a sensitive plant when it came to things like murder, and she was starting to wonder if it was such a good idea to bring him along. Max, she knew, could handle himself, and so could Brutus and Harriet. But Dooley was the baby of the cat menagerie, and sometimes got spooked by his own shadow. “Maybe you better wait in the car, Dooley,” she suggested. “While the others snoop around.”

  “But I want to snoop around, too,” said Dooley. “I love snooping around.”

  She smiled. That was obvious. All her cats loved snooping around, which was why she took them along in the first place. They often talked to other pets, or even pets that belonged to the victims, and had proved invaluable when ferreting out clues.

  Her uncle Alec was aware of this unique talent. Chase? Not so much, though by now he was used to this quirky side of her personality. He even thought it was cute. She’d never told him she could communicate with her cats, though, and probably never would. He might not take it too well.

  She thought about Chase and a warm and fuzzy feeling spread through her chest. She’d never thought she would fall for the rugged cop but she had. And by the looks of things, he liked her, too, which was a real boon. They even shared a comfortable working relationship now, which was very different from the way things were when they first met. The burly cop, a recent transplant from the NYPD, wasn’t used to nosy reporters investigating a bunch of crimes alongside him. Fortunately she’d quickly proven her worth, and now he was more than happy to allow her to tag along.

  As if he’d read her mind, Max asked, “So how are things between you and Chase?”

  “Yeah,” Harriet chimed in. “When are you going to get married?”

  She saw how Max and Dooley shared a quick look of panic and laughed. “Hold your horses, young lady. Who said anything about me and Chase getting married?”

  “It’s all over town,” said Harriet with a shrug. “All the cats are talking about it.”

  “Which means all the Hampton Covians are talking about it,” Max said.

  That was true enough. The Hampton Cove cat community was like a barometer of the human community. She blushed slightly. “So what are they saying, exactly?”

  “Well, that the wedding will take place later this year, though it might be sooner rather than later because the first baby is already underway.” The gorgeous Persian screwed up her face. “What is a shotgun wedding, Odelia?”

  Odelia’s blush deepened. “A shotgun wedding? Is that what they’re saying?”

  All four cats nodded. “I think it means that everybody brings a shotgun to the wedding,” said Brutus knowingly.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” said Max. “Why would anyone bring a shotgun to a wedding? That’s just dumb.”

  “Who are you calling dumb, fatso? They’re obviously bringing shotguns to make sure nobody crashes the wedding. Duh.”

  “Crashes the wedding?” asked Dooley. “Is that even a thing?”

  “Didn’t you see that movie last week? Wedding crashers? Two guys go around crashing weddings and having a blast,” said Brutus.

  “Until they fall in love and get married themselves,” said Harriet. “I thought it was the most romantic thing ever. Though I didn’t like that they portrayed Bradley Cooper as such a nasty person. I like Bradley Cooper. He’s so handsome and cute.”

  “He’s not that handsome,” said Brutus. “His mouth is too big for his face.”

  “It is not. His mouth is just the right size.”

  “The right size for what?” scoffed Bru
tus. “To load a Big Mac in one bite?”

  “Listen, you guys,” said Odelia, interrupting this fascinating discussion of Bradley Cooper’s face. “For one thing, Chase and I are not getting married. And for another, I’m not pregnant so there won’t be a shotgun wedding.”

  “That’s too bad,” said Harriet, her face falling. “I was looking forward to being a bridesmaid.”

  “That’s impossible,” said Max. “Cats can’t be bridesmaids. That’s just preposterous.”

  Harriet narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying, Max? That I wouldn’t make a wonderful bridesmaid? For your information, I would be the perfect bridesmaid. I don’t even have to wear a dress. I’m beautiful just the way I am.”

  Odelia smiled. “That’s true. And if I ever get married, you guys will all get to come.”

  Max groaned. “Do I have to? I hate weddings. Everybody is always crying. Those things are even worse than funerals.”

  “People are crying because they’re happy, Max,” said Odelia. “Those are happy tears.”

  “I don’t get it,” said the blorange cat. “Why cry when you’re happy? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Yes, it does,” said Harriet. “You wouldn’t understand, though, Max. And that’s because you’re a Neanderthal.”

  “No, I’m not,” said Max. “I’m a cat, not a Neanderthal.”

  “What’s a Neanderthal?” asked Dooley.

  “It’s a kind of old human,” said Max. “With a lot of hair and a big mouth.”

  “Like Bradley Cooper,” said Brutus.

  “Bradley Cooper is not a Neanderthal!” Harriet snapped. “Bradley Cooper is gorgeous.”

  “More gorgeous than me?” asked Brutus, stung.

  Harriet’s face softened. “Of course not, cutie pie. Nobody can be more gorgeous than you.”

  “Maybe you should have one of those shotgun weddings,” Max grumbled. “So I can bring a shotgun and shoot myself.”

  “We’re here,” said Odelia cheerfully, cutting off all this nonsense about a shotgun wedding. She just hoped those rumors hadn’t reached her mother’s ears. Nobody likes to hear about their daughter’s supposed pregnancy and forced wedding because of gossip. Then again, maybe it was a good thing. If people thought she and Chase were about to get married, she should probably take it as a compliment. Though the town’s gossip mill was obviously getting a little ahead of itself this time around.