by Nic Saint
“That’s because he was all alone out there, with nobody to eat. But Max and Brutus have each other.” He paused. “I wonder who’ll eat who. My money’s on Brutus. He’s bigger and tougher.”
“Max is bigger,” said Harriet.
“Yeah, but that’s all flab. Brutus is all muscle.”
“Nobody is eating anybody,” Odelia said.
“She’s right,” said Harriet, sounding worried now. “They’ve got bark. Wouldn’t they eat bark before eating each other? They’ve got plenty of bark.”
“Would you eat bark when you could gobble up a perfectly succulent cat like Max? I don’t think so,” said Dooley. He sighed. “I’m afraid the only thing you’ll find up there are a skeleton and a cat that looks like Tom Hanks.”
“Oh, no,” Harriet cried, and streaked over to Odelia. “You have to save them! You have to go out there right now and save them!”
“Relax. A couple of hours stuck in a tree won’t hurt them.” She hoisted up her jeans and slipped a sweater over her head. “In fact it might do them some good. Those two have done nothing but fight.” Maybe being cooped up together in the same treetop might knock some sense into them. Or not.
“Men are so stupid,” said Harriet, now practically in tears.
“Not all men,” said Dooley. “I wouldn’t climb a tree to impress Princess.”
“Bet you’d climb a tree to impress Harriet, though,” Odelia said, dragging her fingers through her hair. She knew Dooley had always had a soft spot for Harriet. Maybe now was his chance to score.
Dooley scraped his paw across the floor. “Maybe.”
“Oh, Dooley,” said Harriet. “You would do that for me?”
He looked up, hope dawning. “Of course I would. In a heartbeat.”
She pressed a paw to her heart. “I take back what I said about you being responsible for Brutus and Max’s being stuck. You’re a true friend, Dooley.”
“Friend?” asked Dooley, sounding a little disappointed.
She nodded, a smile on her face. “One of my very best friends.”
Odelia grinned and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. As she left the room and headed down the stairs she was already dialing 911.
She arrived at the park the same time Chase did. Firemen were extending a ladder from the fire truck to the top of the tree. In spite of the early hour, Hampton Covians were flocking to, snapping pictures with their smartphones. Which reminded her… She took out her own phone and snapped a few shots. “For the Gazette,” she told Chase. And Facebook.
All around, cats were staring up at the tree, enjoying the show.
A fireman climbed the ladder and disappeared into the foliage. Max and Brutus had sure picked a great tree to climb. From where she stood she couldn’t see the top, even though firefighters had hit the floodlights and bathed the park in an eerie light.
Chase gave her a nudge. “So your cat and my cat, huh? Sitting in a tree.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think they’re kissing, Chase.”
“You might be surprised,” he said with a shrug.
“They’re both males, remember?”
He frowned. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yah. Pretty sure.”
“I’ll take your word for it. How did you find out about this anyway?”
“Um… One of the neighbors heard them screeching and called me.”
He shook his head. “You’d think they’d have more sense.”
You’d think anyone would have more sense than to climb a tree to impress a girl. She got a sudden flash of Chase climbing a tree to impress her. He’d probably look like Alexander Skarsgård in that Tarzan movie.
He gave her an odd look. “Why are you staring at my shirt, Poole?”
She quickly looked away. The man was ripped. Even through his shirt she could see his bulging chest muscles. He was dressed in a white T-shirt, a black leather bomber jacket, and a pair of skinny jeans hugging narrow hips. “So… how’s the investigation going? Any word from the coroner?”
“Nope. But we’re expecting his report today.”
“Can I come?”
He grinned. “Sure. You can come whenever you want, Poole.”
She felt a blush creep up her cheeks and directed her eyes firmly at the tree. The fireman was descending the ladder, clutching two cats in his arms. They both looked pretty sheepish. Especially since the gaggle of cats was happy to comment. And they weren't yelling their support. The consensus was that Brutus and Max were a couple of show-offs and got exactly what they deserved. Yep. Cats were pretty much like people.
“They look okay,” said Chase.
“Yeah, it could have been worse. They could have eaten each other.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Cannibalism? Really?”
She shrugged. “Max gets pretty peckish after midnight.”
“I’d like to see him try. Brutus would slay him.”
She was sure he would. Which was why she was so surprised to see the two cats clutching at each other for support. It seemed that those few hours spent up there had brought them both to their senses.
“Look at that,” Chase said. “Two little buddies.”
The fireman finally reached the ground, and handed both cats to Odelia. She took them eagerly and pressed them in her arms. They clung to her for dear life. All around her there were oohs and aahs, and a loud applause for the fireman who’d risked life and limb to pluck two dumb cats out of a tree.
“They were up in the highest branch,” he said, taking off his helmet and scratching his scalp. “Hugging each other. It was the damnedest thing.”
“I told you,” said Chase. “They’re buddies.”
She tried to hand Brutus over to Chase. He refused to let go.
“Look at that, Poole. He likes you.”
She gave Chase a frown. “You’re not secretly a cat hater, are you?”
“Me? I love cats. Well, maybe not love them, but I don’t hate them.”
“Brutus is not Chase’s cat,” Max explained. “He belonged to Chase’s mother, but she had to go live someplace where they don’t like cats so he ended up with Chase. He never even hugs him, Odelia. He doesn’t care.”
“I’m all right,” said Brutus. “Chase feeds me meat.”
“Yeah, but you can’t live on meat alone,” said Max.
Chase laughed. “For a minute there I thought they were talking to you.”
Her frown deepened. “How many times a day do you cuddle your cat?”
He looked at her as if she’d sprouted wings. “Cuddle my cat? Um…”
Her lips tightened. She hated cat haters. “Adopting a cat is accepting a sacred responsibility, Chase. Cats need to be loved and lavished with TLC.”
He stared at her. “TLC. Okay. And what’s that got to do with me?”
“Brutus spends more time at my place than yours. Which tells me you’re not taking particularly good care of him.”
“Me? Not taking care of him? I love the little bugger.” He gingerly patted Brutus. “Besides, cats are solitary creatures. They don’t need TLC.”
She raised an eyebrow. Both cats were still clinging to her like crazy and weren’t letting go. “Do they look like solitary creatures to you?”
“Yeah, but that’s because they just went through this ordeal. I’m sure they’ll be fine once you put them down. In fact it wouldn’t surprise me if they went scooting up the nearest tree the moment you do.”
She shook her head. “You have to start taking better care of your cat.”
“Look, he’s not even my cat, all right? He belongs to my mom. In fact I’ve never had a cat in my life. I had a goldfish once, but that didn’t end well.”
“Well, now that you have a cat, you better learn how to take care of him.”
He gave her a goofy look. “Maybe you can teach me?”
She blinked. “Teach you?”
“Sure. You’re crazy cat lady, right? Teach me what you know.”
She
handed Brutus to him and he held him up so he was dangling. Cat and human stared at each other, sizing each other up. Neither looked happy. “Oh, for Christ’s sakes,” she muttered, and showed him how to hold a cat, with his left arm providing support for Brutus’s backside and his right hand holding him steady. “Now just caress him. Cats love to be stroked.”
With his big hand he patted the cat’s head, practically squishing him.
“Not like that. Gently.”
He stroked along Brutus’s head. The cat had one eye closed and looked like he was ready to escape. “Like this?”
“Yeah, that’s better.”
Brutus seemed surprised. He turned to her. “Gee, thanks, Odelia.”
She gave him a wink. “We’ll make a crazy cat man out of you yet, Detective.”
He grimaced. “Anything to keep this little sucker from waking me up at five in the morning.”
Her eyes went wide. “Five? I thought it was after seven.”
He scooted up Brutus’s butt and checked his watch. “Nope. Five thirty.”
She gave Dooley a hard stare. He shrugged sheepishly. “I was worried about Max.”
“Thanks, buddy,” said Max.
“It’s so funny,” said Chase, still stroking Brutus’s head. “It’s as if they’re talking.”
“Of course they’re talking. Cats are intelligent creatures. They talk.”
“I’ll be damned.” Brutus had closed his eyes, and was softly purring. Chase gave her a look of surprise. “Do you hear that? I think he likes me.”
She grinned. “Congratulations. That’s the sound of a happy cat.”
Yep. She’d turn this tough NYPD detective into a cat lover yet.
Chapter 17
After tossing and turning for half an hour, Odelia finally gave up trying to get back to sleep. She dragged herself out of bed for the second time that morning, and headed into the bathroom. The moment she caught sight of her face, she yelped. Gah! Was this what she’d looked like that morning in the park? She looked like a contestant on one of those survival shows. The ones where they have to eat bugs and wash themselves in a stream. She quickly did the shower and getting dressed thing and headed down for breakfast.
Max, Harriet and Dooley followed her. They were uncharacteristically quiet. Max was still recovering from his tree adventure. Harriet was in mourning over the end of her affair with Brutus. And Dooley looked like he was trying to come up with a way to win over Harriet. Now that Brutus was out of the picture he thought he had a shot. Poor, misguided creature.
“I have to run, you guys,” she said after munching down on a piece of toast smothered with butter and jam. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, all right? Like climb trees and get stuck. I’m looking at you, Max.”
“Can we tag along?” Harriet asked. “I need something to distract me.”
“Sure. You can help me write a killer article about Dion. And about Max’s adventure.” She gave him a wink. “You can give me the inside view.”
“Please don’t,” Max groaned. “I feel like such a sucker for getting stuck.”
“Cheer up. Cats don’t read newspapers so they won’t make fun of you.”
“They don’t read the paper but they look at the pictures. When they see me, clutching Brutus and that fireman, they’ll never let me live it down.”
“Well, it’s news. So I have to write about it. If I don’t, Dan will.”
“Oh, all right,” he grumbled. “I’ll give you my exclusive story.”
She poured the contents of her coffee pot into the stainless steel travel mug her mom had bought her for her birthday and headed out. She opened the door to her old Ford pickup and her feline brood hopped up onto the backseat and made themselves comfortable. She’d put their favorite blanket back there and always had a plastic bowl and a few pouches of cat food lying around in case they got hungry. She flung her purse on the passenger seat, placed her coffee mug on the dash, and peeled away from the curb.
First stop: the police station. Charging Dion was a formality, so it should be over pretty quick. Next stop: the Gazette. Make Dan a happy editor by finally writing the definitive article on the Shana Kenspeckle murder.
She parked in the designated spot in front of the police station and hopped out, the three cats right behind her. While they went in search of the latest tidbit from the gossip mill in town, she waltzed into the station house.
As usual, Dolores was at her desk in the vestibule, ready to welcome the latest complaints from the citizenry, ranging from parking tickets, lost wallets and kids playing ding dong dash. She gave Dolores a finger wave and sailed right on past the display case showcasing Uncle Alec’s fishing trophies. She entered his office at the end of the hall without knocking, and saw that Chase was already seated in front of her uncle. Both men looked pretty despondent.
“Good morning,” she said cheerily, and placed her coffee mug on the Chief’s desk. “Someone die?” she asked when she didn’t get a response.
Her uncle flung a report in her direction and she snatched it up. It was the coroner’s report. She quickly flipped through it, until she reached the section about the murder weapon. There was a lot of text and medical jargon and her eyes glazed over. “Just give me the short version.”
“Dion Dread didn’t do it,” her uncle said.
Her jaw dropped. She looked at Chase but he nodded somberly.
“No way,” she finally managed.
“Way,” her uncle rasped. “Abe studied the wound and said he’d never seen anything like it, except maybe at the butcher shop. He said that whoever killed Shana chopped off her head in a single stroke. Which leads him to believe that the killer most likely works in the meat industry.”
“Or the Mafia,” Chase muttered.
“So? Maybe Dion Dread used to temp at a butcher shop?”
“I checked. He didn’t. What’s worse, Abe is convinced the killer is right-handed.” He eyed her intently. “Dion is a southpaw.”
“Maybe he switched hands? To throw us off the scent?”
Her uncle shook his head. “According to Abe that’s an impossibility. The blow was administered with such precision and skill that there’s no question. The killer was right-handed, and he or she knew what they were doing. Which rules out Mr. Dread. I cut him loose half an hour ago.” He placed his hands on the desk, palms down. “I’m afraid you’re up to bat again, team. Shana Kenspeckle’s killer is still out there. Maybe planning his next kill.”
Chase gave a shake of the head. “Always the optimist, aren’t you, Chief?”
The chief shrugged. “Just facing the facts, buddy.”
Chase cut his eyes to Odelia. “Ready for another day at the Kenspeckles, Poole?”
She nodded automatically. “Well, heck. I really thought we had our guy.”
“Well, we didn’t, so he’s off the hook.”
“Can’t you arrest him for something else?”
Uncle Alec grinned. “Cheating on your wife is not a punishable offense, Odelia. At least not in this country. And neither is being a conceited ass.”
Chase got up. “We’ll interview the film crew. They might know something. Besides.” He gestured to the window. “It’s a beautiful day. Who doesn’t want to spend it with America’s first family?”
She groaned, and Uncle Alec gave her a commiserating look. “Better get moving, honey. Camille Kenspeckle is on her way over here. She’s convinced it’s terrorists that killed her daughter, and she wants the FBI involved.”
She nodded and got to her feet. “We’ll solve this case,” she said, trying to project more confidence than she was feeling right then.
“By the way, how is Max?” Uncle Alec asked. “Not too traumatized after that tree incident this morning?” He had a twinkle in his eye. Her uncle was one of the few people who knew all Poole women could talk to their cats.
“Max is fine,” she said. “A little shaken but fine.”
“Brutus is fine, too, Chief,” said Chase. “Tha
nks for asking.”
The Chief leaned back in his chair. “Oh, but I know Brutus is fine. That cat is built like a tank. It’s Max I’m worried about. He’s such a snowflake.”
“Ha ha ha,” she said, and followed Chase out of the office.
“You know, Brutus has been purring up a storm all morning,” Chase said as they walked down the hall. “I’ve been doing what you told me to and I’ve never seen him so happy. Who knew cats could be so clingy?”
“Yeah, well, cats are like humans, Chase. They need a lot of affection.”
They reached the front door and he opened it for her, placing his hand on the small of her back. She cocked an eyebrow. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He gave her an innocent look. “What you taught me. Giving affection?”
“I’m not a feline, Chase.”
“You still need affection.”
“Not from you, I don’t.”
He grinned. “Look who’s being catty.”
Chapter 18
The three of us were strolling along Main Street and I have to confess I was feeling out of sorts. This whole tree experience had rattled me. Until this morning Brutus and I had been sworn enemies, but up there, locked away from the world, we’d developed some kind of bond. The same thing happens to people shipwrecked on some desert island. I think it’s called Stockholm syndrome. Though as far as I know Stockholm isn’t an island. Oh, well.
We arrived at Wilbur Vickery’s store, and took a seat on the pavement right outside, where Wilbur keeps his fruit and veg display. The General Store attracts a lot of cats, and Wilbur’s cat Kingman is a real chatty tabby. So it’s a great place to find out what’s going on in town. I have to admit my heart wasn’t in it today, and neither were Dooley’s or Harriet’s for that matter.
We’d just found ourselves a great spot in the shade, when Brutus ambled up. I looked at him. He looked at me. We looked away. This was awkward.
“So, what are you guys doing here?” he asked.
“Just hanging out,” I said. “Collecting some gossip for Odelia’s articles.”
He shook his head. “You know? The weirdest thing happened this morning.”
