The Mysteries of Max: Books 31-33

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The Mysteries of Max: Books 31-33 Page 31

by Nic Saint


  It had been such a stroke of luck for her to run into…

  Suddenly the doorbell chimed and she frowned. Her girls looked up and she said, “Probably the mailman.”

  “The mailman, yes!” said Jaime.

  “Did he bring me a present?” asked Marje.

  “Yeah, I’ll bet he did,” she said with a smile. She loved her girls so much. She’d do anything for them—and she had. In fact she’d worked the impossible. Not exactly legal, or acceptable, but sometimes a mother had to do what a mother had to do.

  She walked over to the door, and was surprised when she put her eye to the peephole. For a moment, she hesitated, but then slid the bolt back and opened the door.

  “I thought we’d arranged everything,” she said as she looked into her visitor’s face.

  “Not quite,” was the prompt reply.

  “We have to hurry, Odelia!” I said.

  “But how can you be so sure?” Odelia asked.

  “Trust me—I am one hundred percent sure. If you don’t get there fast you’ll have another dead body on your hands.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Odelia, as she directed Chase to hurry along. He’d turned on the flashy blue light and was sounding his siren, too, in an attempt to stop the drama from unfolding before we got there.

  “Is it the stork, Max?” asked Dooley. “Did something happen with the stork?”

  “The stork is fine, Dooley,” I said. “Don’t worry about the stork.”

  “So who’s in danger then?”

  “We’re here,” said Chase, and made the car unceremoniously jump the curb.

  We followed Odelia out of the car, and she said, “Maybe you guys better hang back. Things might get a little dangerous from here on out.”

  “Okay, fine,” I said, and watched Odelia and Chase hurry up to the door of the apartment building. It wasn’t much of a dwelling, more like one of those slightly run-down places that probably shouldn’t be allowed to still accept tenants.

  The moment Chase and Odelia disappeared inside, I told Dooley, “Let’s go.”

  “But I thought we were supposed to hang back?”

  “When have you ever known us to allow our human to enter the lion’s den without us being there to keep an eye on her, Dooley?”

  “Um… never?”

  “Exactly. So let’s not let her down now. Whether she likes it or not, we’re her guardian angels.”

  “I thought we were feline angels?”

  “That, too.”

  So we hurried inside, and started up the stairs.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I think I remember Odelia telling Chase it was the third floor.”

  We pretty much zoomed up those stairs. Don’t let my slightly chunky appearance fool you. I can be pretty fast when I need to be. In fact we arrived there even before Chase and Odelia did. Probably the elevator was as ancient and run down as the entire building. As luck would have it, the door to the apartment was ajar, so we rushed right in. In the living room two little girls were playing, and from the adjoining room I heard choking sounds, so we moved right on through, and found Marvin Harrison, his hands around Francine Ritter’s throat, busily choking the life out of her.

  So Dooley and I did what we do best in such circumstances: I launched myself at the man’s neck, while Dooley dug his claws into his left hand, and his teeth into his right.

  Marvin screamed like a banshee, and immediately let go of his victim. For the next few moments he whirled around like a drunken sailor, one cat attached to his neck, and the other attached to his hands. When finally we were forced to let go, Chase was there, gun in hand, and quickly made the man lie flat on his belly, hands out, to make the arrest.

  Francine, meanwhile, was being comforted by Odelia. The poor woman’s throat was red and swollen, but it looked like she’d be all right.

  And Dooley and myself? Thanks for asking! I’m happy to announce that we were just fine. I’d been swung into a corner of the room, making a hard landing, but had escaped with my life, and Dooley had landed on the bed and was now calmly licking his claws, removing all evidence of the foul killer we’d just taken down in a concerted effort.

  “He tried to kill me,” said Francine hoarsely. “The bastard tried to kill me!”

  “I know,” said Odelia. “Try not to talk, honey.”

  “Marvin Harrison,” said Chase as he placed handcuffs on the guy’s hands, “I’m arresting you for the attempted murder of—”

  “That’s not Marvin,” I told Odelia. “That’s Franklin. And Chase should probably arrest him for the murder of his brother Marvin, too, and the murder of those other two men.”

  Odelia gaped at Marvin/Franklin. “Franklin?” she asked.

  The guy turned to her, and flashed a nasty grin. “So you finally figured it out, huh?”

  Odelia turned to me, then to Francine. “But…”

  “Yeah, that’s Franklin, all right,” said Francine. “I recognized him immediately. He might have fooled all the others, but he didn’t fool his own wife—I know my husband.”

  “Oh, shut up—you ruined everything!” Franklin yelled as Chase escorted him out of the room, then past his kids, and out of the apartment.

  “I don’t understand,” said Odelia. “I thought that was Marvin.”

  “He must have taken his place,” said Francine, gingerly touching her throat. “Don’t ask me why, though knowing Franklin it must have something to do with money.”

  “We better get you to a doctor to have that looked at,” said Odelia.

  “My girls,” said Francine. “I don’t want them to see me like this.” She threw Odelia a pleading look, and Odelia quickly searched around, found a scarf, and helped Francine tie that around her neck.

  Then we all left the bedroom, and Francine announced to her girls, “We’re going on a little trip, girls. Do you want to come?”

  They both cheered and said, “Yeah!”

  Then they caught sight of us, and turned their attention to the two ‘pussy cats.’

  I must admit that being fondled by a three-year-old did not become me. They poked us, and they prodded us, and pulled our ears, all the drive down to the doctor’s office!

  When finally we arrived at our destination, and Odelia helped Francine out of the car, followed by her two girls, Dooley turned to me and said in a shaky voice, “Max, maybe when that stork finally arrives, we’ll simply pretend like we didn’t see it?”

  I smiled at my friend. “Had enough already, have you?”

  He nodded emphatically. “They pulled my ears, they pulled my tail, they poked my belly, they even tried to poke my eyes, wanting to know if they were real! Max, I don’t want babies. Ever!”

  “That’s fine, Dooley. Neither does Odelia—at least for the time being.” I glanced down the street, and said, “And now let’s solve this other little matter, shall we?”

  “What other little matter?”

  “The big rift.”

  Chapter 33

  Shanille was walking down the street, on her way to the General Store to talk to Kingman and ask him to join her effort to oust Harriet from the group once and for all, when suddenly she was accosted by Max and Dooley.

  “Hey, you guys,” she said. “Fancy meeting you here.” She grinned, indicating this was one of her little jokes. Unfortunately Max wasn’t smiling, and neither was Dooley, for that matter.

  “Shanille, we need to talk,” said Max.

  “Just what I was thinking. We need to have a nice long talk about Harriet.”

  “Of course,” said Max, gracious as ever. “And we will. But first I would like to talk to you about the new cat choir Dooley and I are starting.”

  “The new cat choir?” she asked, much surprised.

  Max nodded. “Frankly Dooley and I have had it with these fights between you and Harriet, so we’ve decided to start our own cat choir, and I’m sorry to tell you that you are not invited, Shanille. And neither,” he added when she opened her mouth
so speak, “is Harriet, for that matter.”

  “This will be a choir without you and without Harriet,” Dooley said, making matters perfectly clear.

  “But… you can’t do that!” said Shanille.

  “We can and we will,” said Max. “And I’ll have to be honest with you, Shanille, we’ve been talking to a lot of the other cats about this, and they’re all very excited about this new project. In fact every single cat we’ve talked to so far has agreed to come on board.”

  “They’re all fed up with all the fighting,” Dooley said.

  “Yeah, this will be non-fighting cat choir. A cat choir where all the members join up strictly to have a good time, to sing together, have fun together, and to shoot the breeze. To gossip and to crack jokes and enjoy the kind of warm friendship that we all like.”

  “And you’re not invited,” Dooley repeated, “and neither is Harriet. Right, Max?”

  “Absolutely. So far we’re looking at, oh, eighty-five to ninety percent of the cats?”

  “You’ve already talked to ninety percent of my members?”

  “Something like that. And all of them—”

  “That’s one hundred percent,” Dooley added.

  “All of them have signed up. So it looks like very soon now there will be three cat choirs: the one run by me and Dooley, the one run by you, which will have only one single member, and the one run by Harriet which also will have but a single member.”

  “Too bad, but that’s just the way it is,” said Dooley.

  “But that’s not fair!” said Shanille. “I want to have a cat choir where cats get together to have a good time, and sing and have fun together!”

  “Well, I guess you had your chance and you blew it,” said Max with a shrug.

  “But Max, please—you can’t do this!”

  “I’m afraid we just did,” said Dooley.

  “But… can’t I join your cat choir, Max? Please?”

  Max looked at Dooley, and Dooley looked at Max, then Max said, “I’m afraid we can’t do that, Shanille. Because if we let you in, we also have to let Harriet in, and you know what that means.”

  “There will be fighting,” said Dooley. “That’s what Max means.”

  “I won’t fight, I promise. It’s Harriet who’s the trouble. She’s the one who’s always fighting. Undermining my authority and picking fights.”

  “See?” said Max to Dooley. “This is why I told you not to allow Shanille in.”

  “You told me this would happen,” said Dooley, nodding sagely.

  “Exactly. So no, Shanille, we won’t let you in. I’m very sorry.”

  “But…” She thought hard. “But what if I make up with Harriet? What if I talk to Harriet and the two of us make up and promise to be friends? Would that work?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Max dubiously.

  “I’m not sure either,” said Dooley. “Would it?”

  “You’d have to make up with Harriet first,” said Max. “And you’d have to convince us that you mean it.”

  “I will—I promise you I will!”

  “Do you believe her, Dooley?” asked Max.

  “I want to believe her,” said Dooley.

  “Look, talk things over with Harriet, all right? And better sit out cat choir tonight. And when you feel like you’re ready, you and Harriet better convince us that you mean business. Or else it’s bye-bye with cat choir for you. Is that understood?”

  She nodded fifty times in quick succession. “Absolutely.”

  “I think she understood, Max,” said Dooley.

  Max smiled. “I think so too, Dooley.”

  Shanille walked off, and thought hard about what Max and Dooley had told her. She didn’t want to leave cat choir. Cat choir was her life. If they kicked her out… And so she went in search of Harriet. She needed to patch things up with her—pronto!

  Harriet had been planning and plotting, plotting and planning, with Brutus in her wake. Her mate wasn’t as excited about the prospect of her running cat choir as she was, but that couldn’t be helped. Part of joining the ranks of upper management was that one was supposed to be able to motivate the lower echelon, and so she’d been working on motivating Brutus, but so far her pep talks hadn’t had a lot of effect on the black cat.

  “When I’m in charge of cat choir I’ll basically run this town,” said Harriet as they walked along the sidewalk in the direction of the General Store to convince Kingman to join her side. “And you know what that means, Brutus.”

  “No, I don’t know what that means,” said her life partner.

  “It means all the perks are ours!”

  “What perks?”

  “The perks—you know.”

  “No, frankly I don’t know. And frankly I think antagonizing Shanille also means antagonizing half this town’s cat population.”

  “Only if I don’t succeed in convincing the majority to vote for me,” she said.

  “What if fifty-one percent does vote for you? Then forty-nine percent will still be against you. There will be two cat choirs. One run by you and one run by Shanille. And it’s going to make life in this town a living hell for us, can’t you see that?”

  No, she didn’t see that. What she did see was that she had to beat Shanille. The choir conductor had annoyed her one time too many and she had to go. No matter the consequences.

  Suddenly, out of the blue, Max and Dooley materialized in front of them, blocking their passage.

  “Hey, guys,” she said. “I was just looking for you. You are going to vote for me tonight, aren’t you? You know how important this is.”

  “I’m afraid we have some bad news for you, Harriet,” said Max.

  “Bad news for you, good news for us,” said Dooley.

  “What bad news?” asked Harriet, looking from Max to Dooley.

  “We’re starting our own cat choir,” said Max.

  “And you’re not invited,” said Dooley.

  “What?!” she laughed. “What are you talking about?”

  “We’ve decided that we’ve had enough of all the bickering, and we’re starting our own bicker-free cat choir,” said Max. “And you’re not in it, and neither is Shanille.”

  “But…” She blinked and glanced to Brutus for support. He just stood there, a slight smile on his lips, the traitor! “You can’t do this!”

  “Funny. That’s exactly what Shanille said,” said Max.

  “Yeah, she said just the same thing,” Dooley added.

  “You talked to Shanille already?”

  “She wasn’t happy,” said Dooley.

  “You know that she actually said she’d talk to you and try to reconcile?” asked Max.

  “Shanille wants to talk to me and reconcile?”

  “She begged us to be included in our new cat choir,” Max explained, “and we told her the only way that was ever going to happen was if she promised that you and she would get along from now on.”

  “Shanille and me getting along?”

  “Yeah, crazy, right? We all know you and Shanille will never get along. And so one hundred percent of the cats we’ve talked to so far—”

  “Which represent ninety percent of the Hampton Cove cat population,” said Dooley.

  “—have agreed to join our new cat choir, on the condition that you and Shanille are not allowed in as members. So there you have it. From now on there will be three cat choirs in town: ours, yours, and Shanille’s.”

  “But you guys!”

  Brutus now started laughing for real. “I love it,” he grunted.

  “Brutus, shut up!”

  “Sugar plum, you know I love you, but I’m sick and tired of all the bickering, too. If you and Shanille can’t get along, maybe you should start your own cat choir, with only the two of you as members. That way you can bicker and fight as much as you want, and you won’t stop the rest of us from having a good time.”

  “But…” She looked from Max to Dooley to Brutus. “But but but…”

  “O
h, there’s Shanille now,” said Max. “Well, I guess we’ll just leave you to it. But remember: the only way you can join our new cat choir is if you promise to behave.”

  “But Max!”

  But Max was off, followed by Dooley and… Brutus!

  And then it was just Shanille and her.

  Both cats stared at each other for a moment in awkward silence, sizing each other up, then Shanille said, “I guess they told you about their new cat choir?”

  “Yeah, they just did.”

  “And the fact that either we get along or we’re both out?”

  “Yeah, can you believe that? I mean, you are cat choir, Shanille. Cat choir is nothing without you.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. Cat choir is bigger than either of us, Harriet. Cat choir isn’t me, or you, or any of us. Cat choir is the whole community—all the cats of Hampton Cove. And frankly if they really decide to kick us out…”

  And for the first time ever, Harriet saw that Shanille actually had tears in her eyes!

  “Oh, sweetie,” she said. “Don’t be sad. We’ll just go to Max and talk to him together.”

  “I know Max, Harriet. He isn’t kidding. I can tell.”

  Yeah, frankly she’d had that impression herself. Max usually was such a laidback individual, but when things got rough he could be really tough. There had been a note of steel in his voice when he’d explained the rules of new cat choir to her, and he’d meant what he said: either they patched things up, or no more cat choir for either of them.

  “Look, I think maybe we let things get a little out of hand,” she said finally.

  “You think?” Shanille scoffed.

  “But you can be so annoying, Shanille!”

  “Oh, as if you’re not annoying, Harriet!”

  They both glowered at each other for a few beats, then burst out laughing.

  “What are we doing?!” Harriet cried.

  “We’re idiots, both of us!”

  “I’m the biggest idiot of all, though.”

  “No, I’m the biggest idiot.”

  “No, Shanille—I’m the biggest idiot!”

  “Okay, fine. You win. You’re the biggest idiot, and I’m the second-biggest idiot.”

 

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