by Nic Saint
“Yeah, pretty glorious,” she said, wondering if he could suddenly understand her.
“The thing is, Harriet,” he said, turning serious, “I can see where you’re coming from. I’m in love with a pretty amazing person myself, and between you and me—and I hope you keep this to yourself—I hope one day to settle down with her and have lots of babies. So I understand your frustration, I really do. But you have to believe me when I tell you that Odelia doesn’t have a malicious bone in her body. Not a one. She’s the most loving, caring and sweet-natured person I know. Pure goodness through and through. She would never have done this if she didn’t believe in her heart it was the right thing to do.”
“She took away my happiness,” said Harriet sadly. “My one chance at happiness.”
“I hear you, babe,” said Chase, “but look at it from her side: she wanted to spare you a life of unhappiness. Being pregnant all the time, wearing yourself out, being followed around by all the horny bastards of the neighborhood.”
She laughed at this. “You’re funny.”
“And trust me, there’s a lot of horny bastards out here—a lot.”
“There’s only one horny bastard I care about and that’s Brutus,” she said. “But keep this to yourself, will you? I don’t want him to get too cocky.”
“And I hope you’ll forgive me for sounding cocky, but I think I’m something of an expert on all things Odelia and if she says this is what’s best for you, she’s probably right. So please please please don’t go looking for another home. It will break Odelia’s heart. She loves you guys to death, and would do anything for you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” said Harriet. “It’s just that, I had this dream, you know, and now it’s pretty much shattered, and now I don’t know what to do.”
“We could always adopt,” he said. “I don’t know how it works for cats, but we could adopt a kitten and she could come and live with us. You and Brutus could raise her and that way you’d have your own family, just like you want.”
“I guess I’d be okay with that,” she admitted. To be totally honest, she wasn’t really looking forward to being pregnant and delivering half a dozen babies. She’d seen friends of hers that hadn’t been spayed get pregnant and the novelty quickly wore off, as did the joy of having offspring in the double digits. At first it was all great fun, but then it just became a drag. And Chase was right. It wore you down, being pregnant all the time. So maybe he had a point. Maybe Odelia had done the right thing, or what she thought was right.
“So what do you say, princess?” he said, holding out a hand. “Do you want to reconsider and rejoin your family? Cause make no mistake, Odelia and Gran and Marge and Tex and me—we are your family.”
“And Max and Dooley and Brutus,” she added softly.
“Yeah, them, too.”
“You’re making progress, you goofy cop,” said Harriet, putting her paw in Chase’s big mitt.
“Let’s get you down, shall we?”
“No way,” she said with a laugh. “Let’s make them sweat for a while. Something you need to learn, buddy. You can’t give in too soon. Or else they’ll think you’re a pushover.”
He eyed her curiously. “You’re a lot smarter than they give you credit for.”
“And you’re pretty smart for a non-cat-talking cop,” she said.
It seemed they had reached an understanding, and when ten minutes later, huffing and puffing, Odelia’s head cleared the roof, and she asked, “What the hell are you two doing up here? Organizing a lemonade stand?”
“Just chatting,” said Harriet.
“He doesn’t even speak your language!” Odelia cried, panting heavily.
“He doesn’t have to. We had a heart to heart—no language required.”
“We had a great chat,” said Chase. “I have no idea what she said, but somehow I know exactly what she said, if you know what I mean.”
Odelia rolled onto the roof and onto her back. “I know exactly what you mean, both of you. And now can we please get down? Dinner is served and I’m starving!”
“Dinner!” Harriet cried, and instantly got up and walked over to Odelia. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Dinner?” asked Chase.
“Dinner,” said Odelia. “The magic word.”
“Figures,” said Chase.
Cats or humans. They were a lot more alike than most people thought.
Chapter 29
“So where were you guys?” I asked once Harriet had decided to come down off her high horse—or, in her case, the roof.
“Oh, here and there,” said Brutus vaguely.
Odelia, Chase and Gran were getting ready for dinner, and so were us cats. Only we had a lot less work preparing ourselves then they had, obviously.
“We discovered the truth about the murder,” said Dooley proudly.
“No way. You mean you know who did it?” asked Brutus.
“Yes, we do,” I said.
“So who was it?” asked Brutus.
“Verna Rectrix. We heard it from her own lips.”
“Oh, wow,” he said. Then, after a pause, “Who is Verna Rectrix?”
“She’s this amazing actress who plays one of the main characters in Big Little Secrets,” said Harriet. “I love her. She’s quirky, does yoga, and is a vegetarian—or a vegan? She has spunk and pizzazz—are you sure she did it?”
“Yeah, she said it herself. Apparently her husband told her to—or so she thought. So she killed Kimberlee and now it turns out it was all a big misunderstanding.”
“What a horrible story,” said Harriet.
“So what else did you and Chase talk about on the roof?” Brutus asked.
“This and that,” she said.
“Oh, come on,” said Brutus. “Don’t be like that, Harriet. We don’t have secrets from each other, do we?”
“We don’t have secrets from each other either, Brutus,” I reminded him.
He gave me a guilty look. “Okay, if you have to know, we visited Emerald’s room.”
“So while we were investigating a murder you two were sightseeing?” I should have known. Harriet always does whatever she likes.
“I just wanted to see how she lives,” said Harriet. “She’s such an amazing actress and I’ve always been such a fan. This is, like, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to check out this true legend’s private space, you guys.”
“And? How was it?”
“Very nice,” said Brutus.
“Yeah, she lives well,” Harriet chimed in. “Her room is probably three times as big as this one. It’s on the other side of the staircase. She has her own private bathroom, which is just amazing—and huge.”
“There’s also a gigantic bedroom with an amazingly soft bed.”
“And an entire room just to fit all of her clothes. You should see the size of it—there’s easily thousands of dresses in there, and the most gorgeous outfits. And shoes. Oh, my God so many shoes!”
“There’s also a private dining room with a window that overlooks the pool and gardens. I mean, this is something else, you guys.”
“We saw her personal stash of Coke Emerald. There’s a roomful of them, and she keeps them chilled, the AC at full blast. That woman loves Coke.”
“There was a maid there, which is how we got in. But then she saw us and started chasing us around with a broom! So we had to hide out on the balcony, which is how we got back here—hopping from balcony to balcony.”
I stared at Brutus for a moment. “Do you think that’s how Verna got into Kimberlee’s room? By climbing over the balcony? That would explain how the door was locked from the inside.”
“I’m sure Uncle Alec looked into that,” said Harriet.
“Yeah, I guess he would,” I said. But I was still going to mention it to Odelia when I got the chance. With this whole Harriet drama I hadn’t found the right opportunity to talk to Odelia about our big discovery either.
“I wonder if Coke Emeral
d tastes different from regular Coke,” said Dooley, harping on a topic I thought we’d exhausted already.
“It’s a little sweeter,” said Harriet.
“And how would you know?” I asked.
“Cause I tasted it, of course!” said Harriet. “Emerald poured some into a bowl for her doggie. So I had a lick and it tastes exactly like Coke but sweeter.”
“Yeah, sweeter,” Brutus confirmed.
“You drank from a dog bowl?” asked Dooley, shocked.
“It’s a clean dog,” said Harriet defensively. “I’ll bet Emerald’s dog is probably the most pampered, cleanest dog in the country, maybe the world.”
“The whole apartment was clean,” said Brutus. “Squeaky clean.”
“You could eat off the floor,” Harriet added. “Not that I did, though.”
“So is everything settled now?” I asked. “About the baby situation?”
“We’re going to adopt,” said Harriet, entwining her tail with Brutus’s. “Isn’t that right, sweetums?”
“Chase’s idea. And I like it,” said Brutus. “That way we’ll have our own little family and we won’t have to give away dozens of kittens to the pound.”
“Lady cats never have a dozen kittens, silly,” said Harriet.
“They don’t? I thought that was about the size of a single litter.”
“More like three, four, five... sometimes more.”
Brutus gulped, clearly happy he’d dodged a bullet. Fathering half a dozen kittens takes a lot out of a gentleman cat, and Brutus wasn’t exactly the father type. Then again, maybe he was. We’d soon find out.
“I can’t wait to select a kitten,” said Dooley now.
“It’s our kitten, Dooley,” said Harriet. “Not yours or Max’s or even Odelia’s. Ours. So we’ll be the ones to pick it out. Isn’t that right, angel bunny?”
“Exactly right, buttercup,” said Brutus, and I had the impression he was already dreading the moment he came face to face with his future offspring.
Chapter 30
As we headed down the stairs to go into dinner, we attracted a lot of attention. It probably wasn’t a common practice for one of Emerald’s guests to come loaded with furry felines as opposed to fluffy canines. Whereas Verna, Abbey, Alina and Emerald all carried their respective furballs in their arms, Harriet, Dooley, Brutus and myself walked down the stairs under our own steam—which just goes to show, once more, that cats really are the superior species when compared to the canine of the animal kingdom.
“Oh, by the way, Odelia,” I said as we traipsed down. “Dooley and I have solved the case.”
“You have?” said Odelia, sounding surprised. “That was quick.”
“Yeah, we just happened to be there when Verna Rectrix admitted guilt.” And in a few brief words I told her what we’d overheard Verna and her husband Thaw Roman discuss. I also mentioned our little chat with Kimberlee’s dog Stevie about the person who was in the room with her when she died and how they talked about Kimberlee directing something.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Odelia. “Sounds like you’re right. Verna did it.”
“Which still doesn’t explain how she did it,” said Gran. “I mean, that locked door is still a mystery to me.”
“We’ll figure it out. But this is an important breakthrough. Well done, you guys.”
“Or is it? Verna could have been referring to something else entirely.”
I decided to write off Gran’s skepticism as sour grapes because she hadn’t been the one to crack the case. As usual, it was us, the cats, who’d found the telling clue. But then wasn’t that usually the case?
“What are you guys talking about?” asked Chase.
“Max and Dooley have cracked the case,” said Odelia.
Chase lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”
“I do say.” She paused for suspense. “It was Verna.”
“Verna Rectrix?”
“Yup.”
And while Odelia gave her boyfriend an update, we’d arrived downstairs and humans and animals were separated at the entrance to the dining room: cats and dogs to the left, humans to the right. So we waved goodbye to Odelia, Gran and Chase, and followed one of Emerald’s people into an area of the kitchen that appeared to have been reserved specifically for Emerald’s pets, and those visiting pets who were lucky enough to be invited along with their masters.
“Oh, my God,” Harriet exclaimed when we entered what could only be described as pet heaven. Beautiful bowls were lined up along the wall, and a whole team of servers stood at attention, ready to cater to our every need.
“We have consulted with your owners as to your dietary needs and particular desires,” said the person in charge of this bucolic feast, a heavily mustachioed individual dressed in pristine white. “And we have selected those precious morsels we humbly hope will appeal to your delicate palates. I’ve also taken the liberty of consulting with leading nutritionists and pet food designers, and have prepared a meal that I think will be to your liking.” He cracked a tight smile and took a stiff-backed bow. “Bon appétit.”
There was indeed a bowl with my name on it, and when I walked over I discovered to my not inconsiderable surprise that it contained the yummiest, juiciest, most exquisite-looking, delicious-tasting, heavenly-smelling nuggets of food I’d ever seen, tasted or smelled in my entire life. Soon the only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of four cats and five dogs digging into their respective bowls and eating to their heart’s content. I would have complimented the chef, if I hadn’t been too busy devouring what was without a doubt the best meal of my life. And when finally I’d reached the bottom of my bowl, one of those wonderful servers stood at attention to inquire if I wanted more, and if so, how much.
“More,” I said between two bites. “Just keep it coming, please.”
The server, clearly instructed not to stint on the good stuff, complied.
I was determined to keep eating until there was nothing left. An ambitious proposition, no doubt, but one I vowed to see through to the end.
And judging from the concerted effort and absolute focus of my pet-mates, they had the exact same thing in mind.
“Oh, boy,” said Dooley as he looked up, his nose covered in yummy food, “I think we picked the wrong humans to live with, Max.”
“I’m starting to think so, too,” I said, then busied myself with devouring this second helping, which tasted slightly different than the first, only because the server had managed to surprise me once again.
“And this is only the entree,” she said as she watched me eat with a gratified smile. “There’s more to come. Lots and lots and lots more. Emerald believes in spoiling her pets rotten, you see, so this is just the beginning.”
“I love Emerald,” I said huskily. “My god how I love this woman. She is the queen, the top, the absolute pinnacle of pet care.”
And then I dug in once more. Who has time to stand around flapping their gums when they can use those same gums for eating!
In the main dining room conversations were a little stilted. After everything that had happened these ladies, Hollywood royalty as Emerald referred to them, were visibly shook by the death of one of their own, even if they hadn’t liked her all that much.
Odelia was seated next to Emerald and even the queen of the silver screen was unusually quiet.
“I thought about canceling the weekend,” she admitted as she dug into her Cajun shrimp and rice. “But that just wouldn’t be fair to the rest of us. It’s not because one selfish person decided to ruin it for us—more specifically me—that I should give in and admit defeat. Kimberlee wanted to destroy me, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her.”
“You still think she did it on purpose?” asked Odelia, not wanting to reveal Kimberlee’s death had actually been a murder—a murder she’d since solved.
“I’m starting to think so more and more. Like Alina said this afternoon, why single out this weekend and my home to commit this a
ct of cowardice? Obviously she wanted to end her life a long time ago, but to choose this specific time and place... That is simply rude. Very bad manners indeed.”
It was the first time Odelia had ever heard someone refer to suicide as bad manners and to the victim as being rude, but she refrained from comment.
To her right, Gran was tucking in with relish. All this talk of death had clearly not put her off her appetite.
“Now this is what I call some great chow,” she muttered.
“Yeah, the food is pretty amazing,” Chase agreed. “In fact I can’t think of a time I’ve had better meals—beats the best restaurants in town.”
“So are you also in the movie business?” asked Verna’s husband, leaning over to direct the question at Gran, who clearly had everyone puzzled with her suddenly turning up.
“Oh, God, no,” said Gran with a laugh. “As if. Though I’m thinking about launching a career. Seeing all these gorgeous women light up the screen, I’m inspired.”
Thaw appeared confused.
“So if you’re not an actress…”
“I’m Odelia’s grandmother. She needed my help, so here I am.”
“How fascinating,” the actor said.
“So, Emerald,” said Gran now, wiping her lips with her napkin.
“Mh?” said the screen goddess, looking up from her musings on Kimberlee’s ultimate betrayal.
“Any pointers for a newbie? I’m thinking about launching myself in the biz,” she clarified.
“Pointers? Oh, you mean acting tips.” She thought for a moment. “Always be yourself and don’t take crap from anyone. Especially directors, producers or studio heads. She directed a pointed look at Odo Hardy, her director, who was seated to her right. He graciously kept his tongue at this harangue.
“Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem for me,” said Gran. “I never take crap from anyone, and I’m always true to myself. Rules to live by, right?”
She then ogled the director for a moment. “Say, listen. Do you have a part for me in your next movie, director dude?”
Odo looked up. “Well, currently I’m working on a remake of Cleopatra. And even though a lot of the roles have been cast, we’re still looking for someone to play the role of Cleopatra’s mother. I’ve been trying to entice Helen Mirren to sign up for the part, but so far she’s proving reluctant.”
