by Nic Saint
Purrfect Murder
The Mysteries of Max 1
Nic Saint
Puss in Print Publications
Contents
Purrfect Murder
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Excerpt from Purrfectly Deadly
Also by Nic Saint
About Nic
Purrfect Murder
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There’s something special about Max. He may look like your regular ginger flabby tabby, but unlike most tabbies, he can actually communicate with his human, reporter for the Hampton Cove Gazette Odelia Poole. Max takes a keen interest in the goings-on in their small town, by snooping around with his best friends Dooley, a not-too-bright ragamuffin, and Harriet, a gorgeous white Persian. Their regular visits to the police station, the barbershop and the doctor’s office provide them with those precious and exclusive scoops that have made Odelia the number one reporter in town.
But when suddenly the body of a bestselling writer is discovered buried in the last Long Island outhouse, and a new policeman arrives in town to solve the murder, it looks like things are about to change in Hampton Cove. Detective Chase Kingsley doesn’t take kindly to nosy reporters like Odelia snooping around his crime scene or interviewing his suspects. And to make matters worse, he’s got a cat of his own in Brutus, a buff, black bully, who, just like his owner, likes to lay down the law. Soon Brutus isn’t just restricting access to the police station, but he’s putting the moves on Harriet, breaking up the band.
Now it’s all Odelia, Max and Dooley can do to try and solve the murder, in spite of Detective Kingsley’s and Brutus’s protestations, and show the overbearing cop and his bullyragging feline how things are done in Hampton Cove. Will Odelia find the killer before Detective Kingsley does? And will Max prevent Brutus from moving in on his territory and taking over the town? Find out in Purrfect Murder, the first book in the new Mysteries of Max series.
Chapter 1
I lifted one eyelid and grunted approvingly at the sun bathing the room in its golden hue. It was eight o’clock in the morning, so high time for an extended nap, but first I needed to see my human off to work. As usual, Odelia had a hard time throwing off the blanket of sleep and facing the world. She was still in bed, even though her alarm clock had gone off, and I’d alerted her to the fact that a new day was dawning by meowing plaintively and as loud as I possibly could, pawing the wardrobe door in the process. She’d thrown a throw pillow at me, so I knew she’d gotten the message.
It wouldn’t be long now. Odelia might hate getting up in the morning, but eventually she inevitably does, so I stretched and rolled over onto my back.
I have to admit I really lucked out when I was selected by Odelia to become her pet eight years ago, when she picked me out of the litter and decided I was a keeper. Odelia is not only one of the nicest and most decent humans a cat could ever hope to get, but she’s also very generous when it comes to distributing the kibble and other goodies. She keeps my bowl filled to the rim, and frequently adds a tasty wet food surprise to the mix.
My name is Max, by the way, and as you might have guessed I’m a feline. A male feline. Some of my friends call me fat, but that is simply a vicious lie. I’m big-boned. All the tabbies in my family are. It’s genetics. And, just like my brothers and sisters, I’m blorange. A blend of orange and blond.
Today was going to be a special day. I could feel it in my bones. Yes, my big bones. But it wasn’t merely my intuition. Harriet, the white Persian belonging to Odelia’s parents who live next door, told me last night that a new cop had moved to Hampton Cove. And if she hadn’t told me I would have found out for myself, for there was a new cat on the block. A nasty brute aptly called Brutus. Black as coal, built like Tom Brady, and with evil green eyes, Brutus barged into our midnight meeting in Hampton Cove Park last night, announcing he was now in charge of all the public spaces in Hampton Cove, on account of the fact that his owner was a cop. Delusions of grandeur was what I called it, and in response Brutus demonstrated the sharpness of his claws by stripping a nice piece of bark from my favorite tree.
Not a cat you want to rumble with, in other words. And if his owner was made of the same cloth, the town of Hampton Cove was in for a rough ride.
“Hey, Max,” Odelia’s voice rang out as she descended the stairs.
“Over here,” I said, giving her a wave from my position on the couch.
She plunked herself down next to me and gave my belly a tickle. She was still dressed in pink PJs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand while she rubbed my belly with the other. In response, I purred contentedly.
Odelia is slim and trim, with shoulder-length blond hair and big eyes the color of seaweed that always sparkle with the light of intelligence. She grimaced when a ray of sunshine hit her face. “Wow, too much too soon.”
“Not really,” I said. “Sun’s been up since before seven, sleepyhead.”
“You don’t have to rub it in,” she said, getting up with a groan. “I was up late last night working on a piece about that sinkhole on Hayes Road.”
She shuffled into the kitchen and started up the coffeemaker while I tripped after her, then hopped onto one of the kitchen counter stools so we could continue our conversation. Oh, didn’t I mention it? Odelia belongs to that rare kind of human who can actually converse with cats. Not that she’s Doctor Dolittle or something, but she comes from a long line of women with a strong affinity with the feline species. As far as I understand it, her foremothers were witches, at a time when being a witch was a surefire way of getting burned at the stake. And even though that witchy streak has diminished over the generations, the women in her family can talk to cats, and do so to their heart’s content. Odelia even claims her ancestors used to turn themselves into cats and back. No idea if that’s true but it’s pretty cool.
I glanced at my bowl, and saw it was still half full, which was better than half empty, so I returned my attention to Odelia, who was pouring cornflakes into her own bowl. Yikes. How she can eat that stuff, I don’t know.
“Did you hear the latest?” I asked, draping my tail around my buttocks.
“No, what’s that?”
“There’s a new cop in town.”
This seemed to interest her, for she looked up from her cereal. “Oh?”
“Yeah, some hotshot that calls himself Chase Kingsley. Used to work for the NYPD.”
“The NYPD? So what’s he doing in Hampton Cove?”
I shrugged. Yes, cats can shrug, though it’s hard to notice with all the hair. “Beats me. All I know is that people are saying he might succeed Chief Alec.”
Odelia frowned. “That’s impossible. Uncle Alec is only…” She frowned some more. “Actually I have no idea how old he is.”
“He’s older than your mother,” I supplied.
“Yeah, but not old enough to retire, surely.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he wants to take early retirement.”
“
I’ll have to ask him,” she said, making a mental note of this.
Odelia works for the Hampton Cove Gazette as a reporter, and I give her the odd scoop now and then. Since us cats are pretty much all over the place, I’ve been able to provide her with a steady stream of breaking news over the years, ranging from that rat infestation at Dough Knot Bakery, to the milk spill at the dairy farm. Cats were all over that one, as you can imagine.
This has given Odelia’s career quite a boost, and given her the reputation of a hard-nosed reporter. Her editor often asks her where she gets her information, but she’s been diligently protecting her sources—moi. If word ever got out that her sources all have whiskers, a furry tail and a propensity for licking their own genitalia, she’d probably be front-page news herself.
“I should probably do an interview with this Chase Kingsley.”
She took a tentative sip from her coffee and perked up. It’s something I’ve never understood about humans. How they can drink that horrible brew. I’ve jumped up on this kitchen counter once or twice to have a lick at the stuff, and I can’t get over the terrible taste. I’ll take a piece of chicken liver every time.
“You should. I hear he’s one of those hunkishly handsome guys.”
She looked up at this. “Hunkishly handsome?”
“And single, if the word on the street is to be believed. At least that’s what Harriet told me.” I shook my head disgustedly. “Probably one of those playboy types who goes around hitting on every woman in sight.”
“I’ll bet he’s not,” said Odelia, taking the next seat.
“Oh, yes, he is. If Harriet is mooning over Chase Kingsley you can rest assured he’s the playboy type. She’s always falling for that kind of guy.”
“She can’t fall for that kind of guy,” said Odelia, making a funny face. “Harriet is a cat, Max. Cats don’t fall for humans. It’s simply not possible.”
“Oh, yes, they do. Cats fall for humans all the time, only not for the same reason humans fall for other humans. When we fall for one of you it’s because you provide us with a great home, great food and great cuddles.”
“And why does Harriet think this Chase Kingsley provides all of that?”
“Because he’s got a cat of his own. A nasty brute called Brutus. I met him last night and he’s a real piece of work. And if his owner is anything like him, we’ve got another thing coming in this town. Do you know what he told me?”
She took a swig from her coffee. “What?”
I lowered my voice. “He only eats meat. No kibble. Can you believe it?”
She laughed. “Sounds to me like you’re jealous, Max.”
“Hey, I’m the least jealous cat in this town.”
“Why does eating meat make Brutus a bad cat?”
“Because… who gives their cat only raw meat? It’s simply not done!”
She nodded. “Who’s got the money, right?”
“Exactly. You certainly don’t.” If this came across as a barb, I didn’t mean it. I totally get how Odelia can’t afford to feed me filet mignon every day. Not on a reporter’s salary.
But if I expected her to be offended, I was mistaken. Instead, a keen look had appeared in her eyes. “Do you think this Chase Kingsley is rich?”
“I doubt it. A cop? Rich? Highly unlikely.”
“Maybe he comes from money?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so, honey. If he did, either Brutus or Harriet would have told me. The guy’s a genuine blabbermouth, and so is Harriet, as you well know.”
“Know what?” asked a voice from the door.
Chapter 2
Oh, crap. That’s the problem with cats. They tread so softly you never hear them coming until they’re already upon you.
“Hey, Harriet,” I said when the white Persian strode into the kitchen. As usual, she was looking haughty, her nose in the air. I swear she thinks she’s the Queen of Sheba or something. Or the Queen of Hampton Cove, at least.
“We were just saying how well-informed you always are,” said Odelia.
Nice save. “Yeah, how you always seem to know everything about everybody,” I added sweetly.
She smiled at this. You might be surprised that cats can smile, but they can. Again, it’s the hair. It obscures many of our facial tics. “It’s true,” she said complacently. “I do know everything about everybody all of the time.”
“Max was just telling me about this new cop in town,” said Odelia.
“Chase Kingsley,” she said, nodding. “He’s a dreamboat.”
“Oh, God,” I groaned. “Here we go again.”
“No, he is,” she insisted. “He’s just about the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I’ve laid eyes on my fair share of men over the years.”
Listening to Harriet, you would almost think she’s a human herself, which is a phenomenon quite common amongst cats. They spend so much time with humans they get confused. It’s called cross-species confusion. It’s a thing. It really is. At least I think it is. “If he’s as handsome as Brutus, I can tell you you’re blind, Harriet,” I said now. “That guy isn’t handsome. He’s scary.”
“There’s nothing scary about Brutus,” she said huffily. “He’s one fine cat.”
“He’s a bully, that’s what he is, and I don’t like him one bit. Barging in here as if he owns the place.” Then suddenly it dawned on me what Harriet had said. I narrowed my eyes at her. “How would you know what Chase Kingsley looks like? Did you see him?”
“I sure did.” Her face took on a beatific quality. “He looks lovely when he sleeps. Like an incredibly buff angel.”
Odelia barked an incredulous laugh. “You watched him sleep?”
“Of course. I walked Brutus home last night and he invited me in. Who was I to say no? Especially when it gave me the chance to get a glimpse of the new cop in town. And I have to say Chase Kingsley is everything Brutus said he was and more.” She emitted a giggle. “He sleeps in his boxers. No PJs.”
If I could have, I would have covered my ears with my paws. “Please, Harriet. Don’t make me puke.”
“He sleeps in his boxers?” asked Odelia.
Harriet gave her tail a studious lick. “Boxers… and nothing more. Très cute.”
I held up my paw. “Enough already. Brutus is a bully and I’m pretty sure so is his master. Or have you forgotten that pets and their owners often share distinctive traits?”
“Oh, please. Odelia’s blond and you’re orange.”
“Blorange. I’m blorange, which is almost the same thing as blond.”
“I’m sure that’s not even a real color.”
“It is a color,” I assured her. “It’s strawberry blond, with gold rose hues.”
“You’re such a freak,” Harriet sighed, shaking her snowy white fur.
“Hey, don’t use the word freak in my house,” warned Odelia. “That’s not nice. Now tell me more about this new cop. Where does he live?”
“He’s staying at Chief Alec’s for the moment. Until he can find his own place.”
Odelia’s eyes were positively glittering with interest. So I gave her a warning scowl. “Don’t listen to Harriet. The guy is a bully. Waltzing into town as if he owns the place. Leaving his repulsive pee all over the place.”
Odelia frowned. “Leaving his pee? You mean Chase Kingsley is a public urinator? That’s not right for a cop. Or anyone else for that matter.”
“Not Kingsley, Brutus. Though I wouldn’t put it past Kingsley either.”
“How would you know? You haven’t even met the guy,” Harriet challenged.
“I just know these things. I’m a great judge of character.”
“You’re simply jealous because both Brutus and Chase are alpha males and you’re not.”
“They’re bullies,” I pointed out. “There’s a distinction.”
She turned to Odelia. “You should snap him up now, Odelia, if you want to have a shot at him. He’s bound to become very popular very soon.”
<
br /> This appeared to be one bridge too far for Odelia, though. “I have no intention whatsoever to snap anyone up,” she said, her smile vanishing. “The only reason I’m asking is because I’ll need to write a piece about the guy.”
“I’m sure Chief Alec will drop by the newspaper today to introduce him,” Harriet said, then lowered her gaze. “So you better make sure you’re dressed to the nines, honey. Remember what they say about first impressions.”
“Odelia doesn’t have to dress up to make a great first impression,” I said. “And what’s more, I don’t see why she has to make a great first impression in the first place. It’s not as if she’s even remotely interested in the man, is she?” I gave Odelia a pointed look, but she chose to ignore me. Never a good sign.
“I can always make an extra effort,” she said instead, dragging her fingers through her long blond mane and shaking it out until it fanned out across her shoulders. Uh-oh.
“Why would you want to dress up for that idiot?” I asked, alarmed.
She laughed. “You’re overreacting, Max. I just want to make sure I look presentable for our first meeting. I’ll probably spend a considerable amount of time with the man, working closely together as I have with Uncle Alec.”
That was true enough. As a reporter, she often sat together with the chief to thresh out the details of some case he was working on.
She now rose from the chair and drained the final dregs from her cup, then transferred it to the sink and gave it a good rinse. “Think I’ll go and get ready, you guys.” She winked at Harriet. “Don’t want to be late for work.”
Harriet purred approvingly. The moment Odelia had disappeared upstairs, Harriet gave me a supercilious look. “See? She likes him already. That’s women’s intuition for you.”
“Oh, boy,” I muttered. I had a bad feeling about this. Odelia hooking up with this cop? No way. Imagine they hit it off. Next thing they’d be moving in together, which meant I’d have to share my space with Brutus. Not only my space, but my food, too. And my extra special place at the foot of the bed!
