Purrfect Rivalry, page 1
part #6 of The Mysteries of Max Series
Purrfect Rivalry
The Mysteries of Max 6
Nic Saint
Puss in Print Publications
Contents
Purrfect Rivalry
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
Epilogue
Excerpt from Witchy Wishes (Neighborhood Witch Committee 3)
About Nic
Also by Nic Saint
Purrfect Rivalry
Sign up for our no-spam newsletter and be the first to know when a new Nic Saint book comes out.
Sign Up
When someone takes a shot at well-renowned pop star Charlie Dieber and kills one of his bodyguards instead, Odelia Poole, self-confessed Bedieber and big-time fan, is quick to offer her assistance to help find the shooter. Teaming up with Detective Chase Kingsley, she enters the world of the Dieber, and soon discovers not everything is as it seems.
Odelia’s cat menagerie, meanwhile, is in a state of shock when longtime rival Diego returns to Hampton Cove, and immediately starts stirring up trouble. Diego has one goal in mind: take over Max’s place in Odelia’s home and heart and get Max, Dooley and Brutus sent to the pound. The only one who can help them is Clarice, their feral friend. She got rid of Diego once, and they hope she will do it again. Unfortunately Clarice has been adopted. By Charlie Dieber.
Will Diego become Odelia’s new go-to feline sleuth or will Max strike back? Will they be able to stop the killer before he kills the world’s number-one pop star? And will Grandma move to Washington and go into politics? Find out in Purrfect Rivalry, a cozy cat mystery like no other.
Chapter 1
I woke up from a sudden chill and discovered I’d fallen asleep on the kitchen floor again. In spite of my protective layer of belly muscle insulating me against the cold, I was freezing. The first thing that occurred to me was the startling observation that the reason for my vigil—the protection of my bowl of food—had been for naught: the bowl was empty!
I quickly trotted over and gasped. To my horror, all three of my bowls had been emptied overnight: the one containing my extra-crunchy vitamin-enhanced prime-brand kibble, the one with my extra-yummy Cat Snax, and even the one with my purified fresh water, which Odelia makes sure is filled to the brim every evening before she retires to bed.
I groaned in dismay. I knew whodunit, of course. It was the whole reason I’d started my nocturnal kitchen vigil. To protect my food supply. And now my stash had been raided. Just like it had been raided the night before, and the night before and the night before that!
Gah. This was getting ridiculous.
Chilled to the bone—a condition exacerbated by the kitchen door being ajar, another irksome habit of the food thief—I decided to warm myself in Odelia’s bed. I padded out of the kitchen into the living room and then up the stairs. The sun was already making a valiant attempt to hoist itself over the horizon and would soon be casting the world in its golden hue. Time for Odelia to wake up, and for me to enjoy the best part of the day: my daily snuggle with my human, my nose pressed into her armpit while I purred up a storm and she cuddled me and made me happy to be alive.
This morning, as Odelia gently returned to the land of wakefulness, I made up my mind to have a heart-to-heart talk with her about the state of affairs at the house, and tell her straight out about my long list of grievances. She needed to get rid of the vile serpent she’d nursed at her unsuspecting bosom for far too long.
Odelia is a sweetheart. Too sweet for her own good. It was time to point a damning finger at the horrible pest who’d invaded our lives and allow things to go back to normal.
I trudged up the stairs and with some effort arrived at the top. Crossing the landing, I set paw for her room, then glanced up at the bed. Odelia sleeps in one of those boxspring contraptions, and navigating the jump onto the bed has lately proven something of a challenge. Since Odelia put me on a diet things have improved, and I now made the jump without a hitch, and more or less gracefully landed on all fours on the foot of the bed.
My human was still sleeping peacefully, her even breathing indicating she didn’t have a care in the world. My heart warmed and a smile slid up my furry face. Odelia might be misguided, she’s the kindest and most decent human I know, and I actually looked forward to pressing my wet and cold nose to her side and basking in the warmth of her embrace.
And I was just about to join her when I discovered to my extreme horror and dismay that a smallish orange cat had beaten me to the punch and had wriggled himself into Odelia’s arms, enjoying an embrace that was rightfully mine! Diego! He’d taken my spot!
Even as I was gawking at the spectacle, my mouth opening and closing a few times in helpless fury, the foul usurper opened his eyes and gave me an insolent stare with those slate gray eyes of his, as if to say: whatcha gonna do about it, buddy?
And then he produced the most triumphant grin any cat has ever produced since cats have found it in their generous hearts to give humans the benefit of their company.
“Hey, doofus. Finally decided to wake up, huh? I thought for sure you passed out.”
“I wasn’t passed out. I was sleeping,” I indignantly told the orange menace.
“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, bud,” Diego said, and then closed his eyes again, nestling deeper into Odelia’s embrace.
Her long blond tresses were spread out across the pillow, and Diego, without a doubt the foulest cat who’s ever lived, eagerly dug his face into her hair, just the way I like to do, and breathed in her delicious human scent, a wicked smile spreading across his features.
“Hey,” I hissed, reluctant to wake Odelia up. “That’s my spot! You stole my spot!”
Diego smirked. “And now it’s mine. Got a problem with that, fatso?”
My teeth came together with a click. “For your information, I’m not fat. I’m big-boned. It runs in my family. And yes, I do have a problem with that. Just like I have a problem with the fact that you ate all of my food! And that you left the door open again last night!”
“My food, you mean. And why wouldn’t I eat it? Odelia put it out for me.”
“It’s my food and you know it! She puts out separate bowls for you and for me and you ate everything—my food and yours!”
“You know what, Max? I think it’s time you and I laid down some ground rules. I mean, if we’re going to be living together and all we need to set some boundaries.”
I liked the sound of that. “Okay. First rule: don’t touch my food. Second rule: don’t use my litter box. Third rule: don’t snuggle up to Odelia in the morning. That’s my job and she hates it when other cats take over from me. I’ve got that extra-special snuggle she likes which, along with my extra-special purrs, puts her in a good mood for the rest of the day.”
“I like your rules, Max. They seem more than fair. Which is why I’m only going to make a few slight emendations. First rule: your food is now my food. Second rule: your litter box is now my litter box. Third rule: Odelia prefers my brand of snuggles so your morning cuddle time is now my morning cuddle time.” He gave me a wink. “Thanks for listening.”
At this, clearly feeling he’d said what he had to say without inclination to elaborate, he closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into Odelia’s armpit, purring up a storm.
To my not inconsiderate consternation, Odelia actually started stroking his fur!
Diego opened one eye as if to say, ‘See? My extra-special snuggles hit the spot.’
I would have hit a spot on his head had I been less of a gentlecat. Instead, I gave Odelia a soft nudge, then, when she still refused to wake up, resorted to my trademark kneading technique: placing both front paws on her stomach and pretending it was a piece of dough that needed to be persuaded into perfect consistency and shape. And when that still didn’t give me the result I was looking for, I added some claw for that extra oomph you want.
Odelia opened first one seaweed-green eye and then the other, and finally a smile spread across her features. “Max. Diego. So nice to see you guys getting along so well.”
I would have lodged a formal protest had she not invited me into the crook of her right arm, even while Diego occupied the crook of her left, and soon I was purring away.
Diego might have tried to take my place in Odelia’s heart, just like he’d taken my place in her home and my litter box, but it was obvious that my human still cared about me, and soon my frigid bones were warmed up again, and so was my wounded heart.
Chapter 2
Having woken up with not one but two cats in her arms, Odelia Poole started the new day with a smile and the distinct impression she was truly blessed.
She’d been slightly anxious when Diego entered their lives again—it’s always a tough proposition for a cat to accept the introduction of a second cat into his home—but she now felt that Max was adjusting wonderfully. Soon he and Diego would be best buddies, exchanging high-fives and chasing mice together—or whatever it was that buddy cats did.
She displaced both felines, drawing a disappointed mewling sound from Max, and slid from between the covers. She placed both feet into her bunny slippers and shuffled over to the window and threw the curtains wide, allowing the sun to stream into the bedroom.
Gazing out across her modest domain—the small patch of backyard that she called her own—she reveled for a moment in the pleasant sound of birdsong and saw that a tiny sparrow was sitting in the top of a beech tree and was singing at the top of its tiny lungs.
“A private serenade,” she murmured, enchanted. “Much obliged, good sir or lady.”
She rubbed her eyes, then stretched and yawned cavernously. Shuffling out of her room, only half awake, she picked her way along the stairs. Before she’d imbibed a decent amount of caffeine, she usually felt as if she’d much rather still be in bed, even though her mind had decided she should kickstart her day. As the intrepid—and only—reporter for the Hampton Cove Gazette she had things to do, people to meet and articles to write.
She started the coffeemaker and rummaged around in the fridge and kitchen cupboards for something edible when she became aware of a marked chill in the air.
Searching around for the source of the cold front that had rolled in, she saw that the kitchen door was ajar. She urgently needed to install a pet door, so Max and Diego wouldn’t keep pushing open the door in the middle of the night. There had been a spate of break-ins lately, and holding an open house day in and day out perhaps wasn’t such a good idea.
Not that she had a lot of valuables to steal—or other stuff sneak thieves would be remotely interested in. One simply cannot amass a wealth of material possessions on a reporter’s salary. But still. No sense in giving them easy access to her home and hearth.
She made a mental note to talk to her dad. Then, discovering she was out of cereal, milk and yogurt, decided not to postpone the urgent missive but deliver it in person.
So she slipped her feet into the galoshes she kept by the kitchen door, cinched her pink terry cloth robe tighter around her slight frame, and stepped out into the backyard.
Since her parents lived next door, and a convenient opening in the hedge that divided the respective backyards provided easy access, she arrived at her final destination in seven seconds flat, without breaking a sweat, cup of coffee in hand, taking occasional sips.
The hits of caffeine drove the sleep from her body, and by the time she was opening her parents’ screen door and stepping into their kitchen, she was more or less human again.
“Hey, sweetie,” said her mother, who was pouring herself a cup of coffee. “You’re early.”
“Ran out of breakfast essentials,” she intimated, and started foraging the fridge. Juice, milk, yogurt… Check, check and check. She took a bowl from the cupboard over the sink, dragged down the oversized box of Corn Flakes, and started her own breakfast prep.
Her mother, who was the spitting image of Odelia, albeit with a touch of gray streaking her own blond hair, called out, “Tex, honey! Breakfast is ready!”
Taking a seat at the kitchen counter, Odelia quickly dug in, alternating between scooping up her cereal, now soaked in milk and drowned in fruit yogurt with half a banana, and sipping from her coffee, to which her mother now added creamer and a spoon of sugar.
“How are things going at the paper?” asked her mom, taking a seat at the counter.
“Great. I still have that article to finish about the new school play and the upcoming senior citizen dance—and I’m still hoping to get lucky and land that exclusive one-on-one with the one and only Charlie Dieber!”
“Ooh. Aren’t you the lucky one?”
“Yeah. So far Dan struck out with Charlie’s management, but I’m hoping they change their minds. Keeping my fingers crossed!”
Mom crossed her fingers and so did Odelia. They were both equally big Dieber fans.
Odelia’s father, who’d entered the kitchen, asked, “Dieber. Isn’t he that actor—”
“Singer, Dad.”
“Right. I knew that.”
Tex Poole was a large man, with a shock of white hair and an engaging smile. He was digging around the cupboards, opening door after door, until Mom said, “Food’s on the table, hon.”
He glanced down at the bowl of oatmeal porridge Mom had placed on the counter and grimaced. “It’s at times like these that I sincerely regret attending medical school. Why couldn’t I have become a plumber, and be blissfully unaware of the importance of diet?”
Mom waved a hand. “Even plumbers have to watch their cholesterol levels. No more saturated fats for you. Those levels need to come down and they need to come down before you go and have a stroke or some other horrible incident I don’t even want to think about.”
“Yeah, Dad,” said Odelia. “Even plumbers need to look after their pipes.”
“Ha ha. I never knew I raised a comedian for a daughter.” He plunked down, staring at the distasteful-looking sludge, spoon raised but not making any indication to start eating it.
“Here, have some of my yogurt,” Odelia said, feeling sorry for her dad, who’d been forced to put himself on a diet after discovering his cholesterol levels were off the charts.
He gratefully added some yogurt to his porridge, took a deep breath and dug in. “I know this stuff is healthy—but why does it have to taste so bad?”
“You’ll get used to it,” Mom said.
“Oh, Dad, if you have time, could you install a pet door over at my place?”
“I’ll do it today,” said her father, visibly quivering when the first spoon of oatmeal hit his esophagus and the gloop proceeded to slide down his gullet and into his stomach.
“Wasn’t it today that Charlie Dieber was on Morning Sunshine?” asked Mom.
“Oh! Right! Better turn on the TV,” she instructed her mother.
Mom obligingly switched on the TV set, but the story featured on the televised radio show was an item about freshly hatched chicks, and Odelia quickly lost interest.
“Looks like we just missed it,” said Mom.
Just then, Odelia’s grandmother waltzed into the kitchen, holding her new iPhone to her ear, and nodding seriously. “Yes, Your Holiness. But there are children dying in Angujistan every day, and we need to get a handle on the situation before things get out of hand.”
Odelia exchanged a puzzled look with her mother, who merely rolled her eyes.
“Yes, Pope Francis,” said Gran as she took a seat at the counter and gestured at her empty cup that read, ‘Greatest Grandma in the World.’ Odelia poured coffee into the cup while Gran continued her curious conversation. “Yeah, I agree we can do more, Your Holiness. Have you thought about getting in touch with the United Nations or UNICEF? I would advise you to get on the horn with Ban Ki-moon pronto, Francis. Just tell him what I just told you.” Her wrinkled face creased into a wide smile. “No, you’re welcome, Your Holiness. Us Catholics have to stick together. Yes, just doing my part for world peace.”
She disconnected, placed her iPhone on the table and took a sip of coffee. Only then did she notice that the rest of her family were intently staring at her.
“What?” she asked. “Never heard a woman chat with the Pope before?”
“You were actually chatting with the pope just now?” asked Odelia. “The pope?”
“The one in Rome?” asked Dad, gratefully using this interruption as an excuse to put down his spoon.
