Hairless Harassment (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 3)

by Molly Fitz

  “I don’t,” Mom said, raising her glass. When Nan and I both turned to her aghast, she said, “What? It makes for good news.”

  “I’m with her,” Octo-Cat said from his spot beside me. “I’ve never had this much fun in all my lives.”

  We finished supper and mom went home. I realized too late that Cal hadn’t gotten the chance to deliver Nan’s bed but she seemed nonplussed by this.

  “I like sleeping in the window seat,” she said. “It’s like an adventure.”

  I rolled my eyes but headed to bed all the same.

  Octo-Cat followed a few paces behind me. “Angela?” he asked. “Are we okay?”

  We both got into my bed, and I stroked his back. “Of course we’re okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

  He hung his head and moved out of my reach. “I should have tried harder. I should have helped more with the Sphynxes.”

  “Yes, you should have,” I agreed, unwilling to waver on this one specific truth. “But we can’t change the past. Only try to do better tomorrow.”

  Octo-Cat purred and rolled onto his back. “You may pet my belly now,” he informed me.

  I hesitated with my fingers hanging about an inch from his furry underside. “Do you promise not to bite me?”

  “I promise not to bite you ever again,” he said. Well, that was an empty promise, if I’d ever heard one. No matter how euphoric and in love with me he felt now, tomorrow would come and I’d no doubt find myself on his bad side once more. I didn’t doubt his intentions, though.

  For tonight, I decided to relax a little and let myself enjoy his unexpected kindness. I petted him for a while longer, until my phone buzzed beside us.

  “Just a sec,” I said, shifting the call to speaker. “Hello?”

  “It’s Charles,” my friend said, out of breath.

  A huge smile stretched across my face. “I know.”

  “I’ll leave you to your boyfriend,” Octo-Cat announced, trotting out of my room and off into some other part of the house. I was happy Charles couldn’t understand him, especially since he was still very much in a relationship with Breanne Calhoun and I still didn’t know what would come of my new crush on her twin brother, Cal.

  “I heard what happened with Thompson,” he said. His voice cracked, and it sounded as if he might be crying. “The police came by to question me tonight. They thought since I was his partner I might have been involved.”

  “They know you weren’t, right?” I ground out, absolutely unwilling to let Charles take the fall for this. He was only involved in the first place because I asked for his help.

  “It’s my fault he came after you.” His voice cracked again. “If anything had happened to you, Angie—”

  “Stop. Nothing happened. I’m fine. What about you? Did the police clear you yet?”

  “Not officially, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.”

  “I’m still trying to figure out why Thompson would have killed his friend.” I began chewing on my thumbnails again. Luckily, Charles couldn’t see my disgusting habit and Mom wasn’t here to swat me over it.

  “I don’t think he meant to,” Charles answered. “My guess is he just wanted to hurt her enough to get her to step down early so he could take her place.”

  “But why?”

  “Hopefully he’ll confess whatever his motives were, but I’m willing to guess he and Harlow disagreed when it came to the proposed pipeline. They both loved the environment, but Thompson may have been more willing to bend his ethics for the right price.”

  “That’s awful,” I spat, then wiped my mouth with the back side of my arm.

  “Yeah, it is,” Charles agreed. “But you promise you’re okay?”

  “I promise,” I assured him. “Hey, I hear congrats are in order. You bought Nan’s house.”

  He laughed. “Oh, that. Yeah, I have fond memories of our time working the Calhoun case there together.”

  “Good night, Charles,” I said with a huge smile on my face. Maybe I still had a chance with Charles after all.

  “You done?” Octo-Cat asked, standing just outside the open door.

  “Yeah. Do I get more cuddles now?” I asked, patting the bed beside me.

  He glowered at me. “Angela, not in front of company!” He stepped aside to reveal Jacques and Jillianne who also stood waiting in the hall. They couldn’t understand me like Octo-Cat could, but apparently that was beside the point.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled and sat up in bed. “C’mon in.”

  All three cats entered and found comfy spots on top of my comforter.

  I waited for Octo-Cat to explain what was going on, and after a short awkward silence, he did. “I know you still have questions about what happened, so I went and found these two and brought them here for you.”

  “But you hate the Sphynxes,” I whispered, covering my mouth just in case they could somehow read my lips.

  Octo-Cat shrugged. “They’re annoying, but also kind of cool. Did you see the way they knocked that guy right off the roof? It was awesome.”

  I laughed and reached forward to touch the small Sphynx, Jacques. His bare skin was surprisingly soft—not slippery and cold like I expected.

  Jillianne came forward to request pets, too, but Octo-Cat hopped onto my lap and meowed a warning. “Paws off my human!” he shouted.

  I just laughed again. I loved when Octo-Cat took pride in our relationship. Since he had no problem insulting me freely, I knew his compliments also came straight from the heart.

  “Okay,” he said once they’d both retreated to the end of the bed. “What do you want to know?”

  “You mentioned a red dot when you—I mean, when I fell. Did they see a red dot, too?”

  The cats exchanged meows back and forth, and for once I just sat back and enjoyed the spectacle. A few minutes later, Octo-Cat had his report. “Yes, a shiny red dot. The laser pointer.”

  “If you know it’s a laser pointer, then why do you chase it?” I asked him.

  He turned toward the Sphynxes, but I interrupted. “No, I’m asking you that.”

  “It’s not a decision we make to chase the shiny red dot,” he told me gravely. “Some things just are. Like how the sun rises, the rooster crows, the cat also chases the shiny red dot.”

  “Who’s talking in riddles now?” I asked with a smirk. “That was incredibly poetic.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Do you want me to help you or not?”

  “Yes, please.” I gave him an apologetic pat on the head. “Would you please ask why they always sat in that cold corner?”

  “Oh, I already know that, too,” Octo-Cat said. “They were punishing themselves.”

  “Punishing themselves?” I asked, feeling so sorry for those poor hairless kitties.

  He nodded. “Cats love warmth, and these guys need it any more than the rest of us. They felt so bad about killing their human, they decided to punish themselves for it.”

  “Do they know it’s not their fault?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure. I tried explaining it to them, but they’re still pretty upset.”

  “Aww, poor things,” I cooed, shifting myself to the end of the bed so I could pet them again.

  “Angela, we are not keeping them,” Octo-Cat warned.

  “That’s okay,” I said with a smile, giving him another soothing pet. “I already have the perfect cat, and besides, I think I already know the perfect person to take them in.”

  Chapter Twenty

  It’s been a couple weeks since Nan, Octo-Cat, and I moved into our new home, and now it really does feel like home. The best part—well, other than us all being together, of course—is the new home library Cal made just for me. I moved my desk in there and now spend hours, reading, researching, or just browsing social media. I try to stay better informed about current events now that current events almost got me killed.

  Mom couldn’t be prouder.

  My former boss, Mr. Thompson, pled guilty to manslaughter. As Charl
es had suspected, he never meant to kill the late senator Lou Harlow—just rough her up a bit. He confessed to tampering with the stairs and slipping something into her drink at the charity fundraiser that night. And, yes, he’d used her own cats against her. By means of shiny red dot, Jacques and Jillianne ended up becoming a deadly murder weapon. Thompson had meant for the entire thing to look like an accident, but he hadn’t counted on me and my team of super sleuths getting involved.

  He claims he hadn’t tried to kill me, either—only give me a fright—but I was not buying it. He didn’t need to convince me, though. He didn’t really need to convince anyone, because he’d already been disbarred and would never ever get the chance to serve in the Senate. Now it was merely a question of how much jail time he would get. I hoped it would be a lot.

  Jacques and Jillianne finally seem to have forgiven themselves, and though they missed their former owner dearly, they now have a really good cat dad. It wasn’t Matt who adopted them both, but rather Charles Longfellow, III. I knew he’d been lonely ever since Yo-Yo the Yorkie moved out and, seeing as he was putting down roots, two kitty roommates seemed the perfect way to make a house a home.

  He didn’t even find them creepy. I guess being from California meant he could handle a lot of weird things without so much as batting an eye.

  The senator’s son, Matt, decided to stay in Blueberry Bay, too. He said he wanted to continue his mother’s legacy and is currently battling his ex for summer custody of their two kids. He hopes to give them the kind of dreamy, ocean-side childhood he had growing up. He makes a nice neighbor now that I’m not afraid of him anymore, although he does plan on selling and moving into some place smaller so he has more money to contribute to the Lou Harlow Scholarship Fund.

  The late senator left her mark on Washington, too. While Matt was sorting through her things, he found a mostly finished proposal for a new wind turbine farm, right here in the great state of Maine. She hadn’t gotten the chance to present it to her Senate committee yet, but Matt is making sure it gets into the right hands.

  So, everything’s getting wrapped up nicely. Not exactly with a bow, but… you take what you can get.

  Now we just had one major matter left to handle, and that would happen today. My new doorbell chimed, playing a cute old-timey jingle that Nan picked out from the huge list of options.

  “Coming!” I cried racing down the stairs and flinging open the door.

  Mom looked nervous, but I wasn’t. I gave her a tight squeeze and then led her up to my new library.

  She gasped at the big reveal. “Oh, Angie. It’s a dream.”

  I motioned for her to take a seat at the window. I’d already opened it wide to let the balmy spring air circulate through the room. This room was no longer a prison, but rather a sanctuary.

  “It is,” I agreed with a blissful sigh. “But that’s not why I invited you here today.”

  “Oh?” Mom folded her hands in her lap and waited.

  “There’s someone I want you to meet. Octo-Cat!” I hollered, and seconds later my kitty partner in crime came running to join us.

  Mom laughed. “I already know Octo-Cat,” she said, reaching out to stroke his soft, striped head.

  I smiled and shook my head. “Not like I do. Do you want to talk to him?”

  Her brows pinched together, and her eyes darted from me to Octo-Cat and back again. “How?”

  “Through me.” I put my hand on top of hers, and her eyes lit up with true mirth.

  “Really?”

  “Really.” I squeezed her hands and let go.

  Mom couldn’t hide her excitement even if she’d tried. “I have so many questions! How does it work? Can you understand other animals, too? Can he understand me? How does the coffee maker factor into all of this?”

  I laughed again. Mom’s face fell, but I wrapped an arm around her to show her that it was okay.

  “Those are all good questions,” I said. “Let’s take them one at a time.”

  What’s Next?

  Apparently I’ve been slacking on the job as a paralegal, even though the firm doesn’t know that I’m secretly working as the area’s premier Pet Whisperer P.I. to solve our toughest cases behind the scenes. Now they’ve hired an intern to “help” me manage my workload…

  But what the partners don’t realize is that they’ve let a nefarious criminal into our offices. Trust me—Octo-Cat can smell this guy’s stink from a mile away.

  The worst part? I’m pretty sure he can talk to animals, too… and he most definitely isn’t using his talents to solve crimes and defend the innocent.

  I’ve always wondered how that zap from an old coffeemaker landed me with supernatural abilities. Now it’s time to find out once and for all. Otherwise I fear I may wind up losing them—and my trusty talking feline sidekick—for good.

  Pre-order to save! DOG-EARED DELINQUENT is just 99 cents until it releases on June 27.

  Get your copy here!

  Sneak Peek of Dog-Eared Delinquent

  Hi, I’m Angie Russo, and my life is way harder than you’d expect for someone who lives in an old East Coast mansion. Well, it’s not really my house—more like my cat’s. After all, it’s his trust fund that pays the bills.

  It may seem like I’ve won the lottery, but think again. Times are tricky when you have a talking cat bossing you around day in and day out.

  Yeah, I said it.

  My cat can talk.

  As in, we communicate, have conversations, understand each other. I’m not sure how or why our strange connection works, only that it does. And as much as I wished I knew more, sometimes you just have to accept things at face value. It all happened so fast, too. I went to work unable to talk to animals, got zapped by a faulty coffee maker, got knocked unconscious, and when I woke up again—bada bing, bada boom!—now I’m talking kitty.

  I’ve decided to think of it as a stroke of fate, because it really does feel like Octo-Cat and I were meant to find each other. In the past six months alone, we’ve worked together to solve three separate murder investigations. I guess that’s why I’m considering my mom’s advice and officially looking into starting a business. She’s dubbed me Pet Whisperer P.I.—not because I want anyone else to know about my strange abilities, but because we needed some kind of excuse for me to take Octo-Cat around on my sleuthing calls.

  After all, I wouldn’t be much of a Sherlock without my Watson. Okay, I’m probably the Watson in our relationship. If you’ve ever been owned by a cat, then you should understand.

  Regardless, I’ll be the first to admit that my whole life changed for the better once Octo-Cat became a part of it. Before then, I was just drifting from one thing to the next. I’d already racked up seven associate degrees due to my unwillingness to commit to any one major long enough to secure a bachelor’s.

  I guess you could say nothing ever felt quite like the perfect fit, but I kept trying anyway. I knew that somewhere out there my dream job was waiting… even if I didn’t quite know what it was yet.

  You see, greatness kind of runs in my family, and for the longest time I’d worried that particular trait had skipped right past with me without a second thought.

  My nan had followed her dreams to become a Broadway star back in her glory days, and my mom was the most respected news anchor in all of Blueberry Bay. My dad lived his dream, too, by doing the sports report on the same channel that featured Mom.

  Now at last, after so much yearning, so much searching, wishing, and praying, I’ve found the career path that fits me like a glove—and that’s private investigating. So what if I’m not getting paid for it yet? I probably could if I threw everything I had at getting my P.I. business up and off the ground.

  But I’m scared of letting down the good people of Longfellow, Peters, & Associates. Oh, that’s right. My favorite frenemy Bethany is the newest partner, and I am so proud of her. Between her and Charles, I know the firm is in the best possible hands, but quitting to pursue self-employment?


  That’s downright terrifying.

  True, I’m only part-time at the moment, but the twenty hours per week I put in are really well spent. I know I’m making a difference, and yet…

  Aargh. I’ve never had this much trouble quitting a job before. Why can’t I just hand in my two weeks’ notice and say, “See ya around!?”

  Maybe part of me still longs for the chance to see where Charles and I could take our relationship, provided he’s willing to ditch his annoying realtor girlfriend. Or maybe I don’t want to leave Bethany behind when we’ve worked so hard to overcome our differences.

  It’s also likely that I’m afraid of spending all day and all night at home with my crabby tabby for company. Nan lives with us now, too, but Octo-Cat reserves all his whining just for me. I mean, I guess it makes sense seeing as I’m the one who understands him.

  At the end of the day, life sometimes requires hard decisions.

  Historically, I’m not so great at making them.

  If I just give it a few more weeks, maybe the right answer will fall into my lap. Yeah, I like that idea.

  Until that happens, though, I’ll just continue to wait and pray I get the courage to ask for what I really need. First, I’ll have to make sure it’s actually what I want, and then…

  Watch out, world! I’m Angie Russo, and I’m coming for you.

  “I come bearing muffins!” I cried as I bounded into the firm ten minutes late that morning. I still had a hard time calculating my new commute, but I hoped that Nan’s homemade baked goods would more than make up for my tardiness.

  “Ahem,” somebody cleared his throat from the desk near the door. My desk.

  I whipped around so fast, I fumbled my beautiful basket of muffins and dropped them straight onto the floor. All of Nan’s hard work was ruined in an instant. It was a good thing she enjoyed baking so much and probably already had another fresh batch ready and waiting at home.

  “Let me help you,” the stranger said, rushing over to offer assistance I most definitely didn’t need. I watched him from the corner of my eye, still refusing to acknowledge this interloper’s presence. From what I could discern, he was tall and gangly, with white blond hair and thick, emo glasses.