Purrfectly Clueless

by Nic Saint

  Purrfectly Clueless

  The Mysteries of Max 12

  Nic Saint

  Puss in Print Publications

  Contents

  Purrfectly Clueless

  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

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Excerpt from A Game of Dons (The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse 10)

  About Nic

  Also by Nic Saint

  Purrfectly Clueless

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  When Odelia is invited to spend the weekend as a guest of Emerald Rohne, without a doubt the best actress of her generation, she’s over the moon. There’s only one problem: Emerald is allergic to cats, so Odelia is forced to leave her menagerie at home, something Max and the others are not happy about. And then the fun-filled weekend getaway takes a turn for the morbid when one of Emerald’s celebrity guests ends up dead in a suspected suicide.

  Gran doesn’t believe the woman killed herself, and decides to take matters into her own hands by inviting both herself and the cats to Emerald’s Hamptons home to conduct her own investigation. Meanwhile Max has bigger fish to fry when he discovers a devastating secret from the past—one that makes him question Odelia’s fitness as a cat owner…

  Chapter 1

  I watched on with a modicum of weariness and exasperation as my human packed her weekend bag. Usually when Odelia goes on a trip she cordially invites me and Dooley along with her, and sometimes even Harriet and Brutus. Now, she was going away for the weekend and I wasn’t invited!

  Odelia was in no frame of mind to discuss what was obviously a grave oversight on her part. She was frowning so furiously I thought those grooves lining her brow would become permanently etched into her fair skin.

  “Lemme see,” she muttered. “Toiletries, check, phone charger, check, laptop and charger, check…” She heaved a deep sigh and her eyes flicked to her wardrobe. “Chase!” she suddenly cried. “Chase—where are you?!”

  “What’s wrong, babe?” Chase asked, as he came running.

  She flapped her arms like a chicken. “I have nothing to wear!”

  Chase heaved a sigh of relief. “I thought you were in trouble.”

  “I am in trouble! I’m going to spend the weekend with the most gorgeous, most successful, most iconic actresses of our time and I’ve got nothing to wear!”

  Chase moved over to the closet and gave it a critical look. He let his hand trail along the outfits. “You’ve got plenty of stuff, honey. Any of these will do.”

  She gave him a scathing look, the kind that says: of course you would say a dumb thing like that. You’re a guy!

  “I need my mom,” she said, and Chase left the room, realizing he didn’t fit that particular description. Moments later, Odelia opened the bedroom window and hollered, “Mom! I need you in here! Now!”

  It was a testament to her nervous condition that she would resort to shouting at her mother like that. Usually Odelia is the most mild-mannered human any cat could ever hope to be adopted by. Today she was giving every indication of being on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

  Like Chase, I decided to return downstairs. Things were looking pretty grim, and I needed my best buddy to confide in and commiserate with.

  Dooley watched me descend the stairs with a hopeful look on his face. But when he caught my expression that hope was quickly squashed like a bug.

  “No dice?” he asked, just to be sure.

  “No dice,” I confirmed. “She’s not taking us and that’s her final word.” And even if I wanted to try and convince her, I knew from long association with Odelia that now wasn’t the time. “She’s having trouble packing,” I explained as I took position next to Dooley on the couch. “Doesn’t know what to wear.”

  “Oh,” he said, immediately understanding.

  “Yeah.”

  “So that’s that, then.”

  “That’s that,” I agreed.

  We both stretched out on the couch and stared before us, musing about what could have been.

  Marge came in through the sliding glass door and directed an anxious look at us. I said, “Nothing to wear,” and Marge immediately understood, for she nodded once, plastered a look of determination on her face and proceeded up the stairs.

  Odelia has always been a nervous packer, and now, with her star-studded weekend coming up, things were even worse than usual. For a reporter this is a highly unusual situation, you might say, but then Odelia is not one of your globe-trotting reporters who practically live in their suitcases. She doesn’t traverse the Sahel in a beat-up Jeep with only a toothbrush and her wits. She doesn’t look to interview rebels in the jungles of war-torn Angola. She’s a small-time reporter for a small-town rag called the Hampton Cove Gazette, so she hardly does any traveling at all. This weekend was an exception, therefore, and I could see why this would exacerbate the situation to the point she needed her mother to help negotiate the packing of her weekender case.

  Next to us, Chase had also taken a seat, and now the three of us were waiting, like expectant parents awaiting news from the maternity ward, or the Catholic flock in Saint Peter’s Square for white smoke from the papal chimney.

  “I still think she should have invited us,” said Dooley.

  “What’s done is done, Dooley,” I said, though I couldn’t agree more.

  “But why? Why doesn’t she want to take us?”

  “Because Emerald Rhone is allergic to cats.”

  Emerald Rhone, the most famous actress of our time, was allergic to cats. It was hard to believe and yet it was true. The moment I heard it, I experienced a slight diminution of my love and timeless admiration for the screen legend.

  “I still find it hard to believe Odelia would be invited to spend the weekend with Emerald Rhone,” said Dooley. “Does she even know her?”

  “I doubt it. As far as I know Odelia’s boss wangled the invitation.”

  Dan Goory, editor of the Hampton Cove Gazette and Odelia’s boss, prides himself on being the most well-connected man in the Hamptons. His address book is a veritable Who’s Who of the rich and famous, and among those luminaries, apparently, is the one and only Emerald, the greatest living actress.

  “I can’t believe Emerald is allergic to cats,” said Dooley.

  “I can’t believe it either and yet it is so,” I said.

  We both mused on this most unthinkable thing for a while.

  “Now I don’t even like her anymore,” said Dooley finally. “And I wish I hadn’t watched her lousy show.”

  The show he was referring to was Big Little Secrets, which had been a huge ratings hit and had apparently been watched by everyone and their cat. Now that the final episode had aired, the star cast of the show were meeti
ng for the weekend at Emerald’s Hamptons home, on the outskirts of Hampton Cove. All five stars were going to be there: Kimberlee Cruz, Verna Rectrix, Abbey Moret, Alina Isman and of course Emerald herself. And Odelia and Chase.

  Normally Dan Goory would have gone, as an old friend of Emerald’s, but since he had a prior engagement—he was doing a golf tournament in Scotland—he’d decided to send Odelia as his celebrity emissary instead.

  Chase suddenly glanced over in our direction. I gulped a little. I know that Chase, Odelia’s cop boyfriend, doesn’t speak our language, but sometimes I wonder. The man is part of the family, after all, and you never know if Odelia’s gift of talking to her cats can be transferred by close association.

  “So what do you guys think?” asked Chase now.

  “Think about what?” I asked cautiously.

  “Is she going to come out of this thing with her sanity intact or should we call off the whole thing?”

  “Oh, Marge will fix her right up,” said Dooley. “She always does.”

  Chase gave us a bemused look and chuckled lightly. “You guys are so funny. Do you know that before I met you I never even considered cats as intelligent creatures? I always thought that honor was reserved for dogs.”

  Both me and Dooley bridled. “Dogs!” I said, stiffening. “Please don’t compare us with that foul and horrid breed, Chase. I mean, please!”

  “Yeah, dogs are no match for cats,” Dooley added.

  “No comparison,” I agreed. “Like, at all.”

  Chase had narrowed his eyes at us. “Sometimes I wish I could understand what you’re saying. It almost strikes me as meaningful.” Then he shook his head. “What am I doing? Talking to a bunch of cats. I must be losing it.”

  He was losing it, if he was comparing us to dogs. But I decided not to press the point. Chase was obviously under a great deal of stress. He was, after all, Odelia’s plus-one for this shindig, and probably just as nervous as she was.

  Then again, he didn’t look nervous. In fact he looked as cool as a cucumber. A little bored, even. As if he wasn’t particularly looking forward to visiting acting royalty as much as Odelia was.

  He finally heaved a deep sigh and checked his watch. “If she keeps this up we’re going to be late.”

  Dooley eyed me meaningfully.

  “No, Dooley,” I said. “We’re not going to ask Chase to take us along. For one thing, he doesn’t understand what we’re saying, and for another, he’s a self-declared dog person, and everyone knows dog persons aren’t exactly advocates for the rights of cats to join their humans wherever they go.”

  “Please, Max,” he said. “The least we can do is try.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, all right.” So I tapped Chase lightly on the arm.

  He looked up. “Mh?”

  “Chase,” I said, enunciating clearly and deliberately.

  “What is it, buddy?” he said, frowning.

  This was good news. Maybe he could understand me after all? “Could you please tell Odelia she needs to bring us along on this weekend trip?”

  “Yes, please, Chase,” said Dooley, giving the burly cop his best puss-in-boots look.

  Chase eyed us both curiously for a moment, then laughed. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you guys want to tag along this weekend, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes, please!” said Dooley eagerly.

  He laughed again. “Fine,” he said finally. “I’ll take it up with Odelia.” He then got up and started pacing the living room floor. “What’s taking her so long? She could have packed for a year by now, let alone a weekend.”

  Dooley and I shared a happy look. Chase was taking up our case.

  Which meant we were going on a little trip after all!

  Chapter 2

  Odelia had navigated the streets leading out of town deeply lost in thought. It was only when she passed the sign welcoming people to Hampton Cove, the friendliest place in the Hamptons, that she finally realized Chase was talking. She’d been driving on auto-pilot for the past couple of minutes and now looked up. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

  “I think your cats wanted to tag along,” he said, much to her surprise.

  “My cats?” She cut him a quick sideways glance. “Did they... tell you that?”

  It wasn’t possible. Only the women in her family had the gift of being able to talk to cats. Not even her uncle Alec could understand them.

  “Yeah, they were putting on a real show while you were upstairs with your mother. Meowing or mewling or mewing or whatever the hell it is that they do.” He shook his head. “I gotta tell you, babe. Sometimes those cats of yours could almost pass for humans the way they go on. And the way they look at you! Staring with something akin to actual intelligence in those big eyes.”

  “Well, cats are highly sensitive and intelligent creatures.”

  “That, they are. Especially yours.” He settled back, stretching out his long legs. “Now are you finally going to relax and enjoy this trip? Ever since Dan asked you to replace him you’ve been more nervous than a high schooler for their first dance at the prom!”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “But this is a big deal. I don’t want to let Dan down.”

  “You’re not going to let him down. Just be yourself out there, and everything will be fine.”

  “You think?”

  “Sure. Hey, movie stars are regular people, too, and they’re going to be very much themselves this weekend, just a little get-together of friends.”

  “Yeah—yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said, even though she had the distinct impression he was wrong. Stars like Emerald Rhone or Alina Isman were never truly themselves when out in public, and that’s what this shindig was, after all: a public affair. Otherwise why was she invited? If this was friends and family only, would Emerald have invited Dan? No, this was a public event, and Odelia was going to be subjected to the same scrutiny as the rest of them, which meant she needed to look her absolute and stunning best.

  “Besides,” Chase went on, “it’s not as if we’re going to be the center of attention. We’ll just be flies on the wall—the guests no one pays attention to.”

  She nodded, and willed herself to relax her death grip on the steering wheel. Usually Dan handled these high-profile get-togethers. They were important networking opportunities. But more and more he was pushing Odelia to take over for him—introducing her into the world of celebrities.

  “With so many famous stars there, we’re going to blend right in,” Chase said. “And isn’t that the whole point? For you to have access to these people and still be able to write your articles? You’re not the star, babe—you just have to mingle with the stars so you can write about them.”

  She was nodding in agreement. “And that’s my strength as a reporter. Not to stand out too much, while at the same time earning the real stars’ trust.”

  “Hey, those stars don’t appreciate it if some reporter steals the limelight. So frankly speaking the plainer and less flashy we both look, the better.”

  She laughed. He was right. Stars hate to be upstaged. She darted a quick look at him. He was looking his usual handsome self. Dressed in tan slacks, aquamarine button-down and penny loafers, he could have featured in a Ralph Lauren ad for menswear. She’d opted for a simple floral-pattern summer dress and still felt underdressed for the occasion. But he was right. They weren’t the stars, and they shouldn’t try to look like stars, either.

  “So about Max and Dooley,” she said. “You know I couldn’t take them. Dan was very specific about that. No cats allowed.”

  “I’m sure Emerald would have made an exception. They’re housebroken.”

  “It’s not that. Emerald is allergic to cats.”

  “And yet she’s always photographed lugging that little mutt around.”

  “That’s different. A person can be allergic to cats and not to dogs.”

  “Hey—your cats, your rules, babe.”

  “And even if Emerald wasn’t
allergic, it just wouldn’t be practical. If I take Max and Dooley, I’d have to take Brutus and Harriet, too, and their bowls and litter boxes, and it would just turn into a whole production and for what? Just so they can spend the weekend at Emerald’s? No, they’ll be fine with Mom.”

  She was feeling a little guilty about leaving her cats behind. They were rarely separated for even one night, and now she was going away for a whole weekend. But it was a little impractical, and she could hardly impose on Emerald, who was one of the world’s biggest stars. It was a miracle they’d been invited in the first place, so showing up with four cats, their litter boxes, bowls, bags of cat food, favorite blankets, pillows and toys would be nuts.

  They’d be fine at her mother’s place, who’d make sure they were fed and taken care of. Besides, she was sure the cast of Big Little Secrets would all bring their own pets—all dogs—and create trouble for Max and the others.

  She wouldn’t want Max and the others facing off with a pack of wild Maltipoos, Yorkshire Terriers, Chihuahuas, Shih Tzus or Brussels Griffons!

  Chapter 3

  That night, the four of us were lying on the couch Marge reserved for us in the family room, while she and her husband Tex and her mother Vesta were watching a movie. It had been Gran’s turn to choose the movie, and she had picked one of her favorite ones: Pearl Harbor, now playing on the flatscreen.