Purrfect Model, page 6
And much to Vesta’s astonishment, her own son-in-law stepped to the fore!
“Tex, what are you doing here!” Marge cried.
Tex, whose face had taken on the color of a ripe plum, swallowed once or twice, and said, with as much dignity as he could muster, “I’m here to model.”
“But…”
“Please take your position on the stage, Mr. Poole,” said Chanda, pointing to the small dais in front of the class. “And drop the robe.”
Tex hesitated, but then finally dropped the robe, revealing a puny hairless chest and a snazzy-looking pair of pink boxers with tiny blue stethoscopes.
The art teacher regarded the boxers with a sort of astonished surmise, and gestured for Tex to drop that final garment as well. But Tex, stubbornly refusing, draped himself across the divan that had been set up, and struck a pose.
Chanda, shaking his head at this lack of artistic finesse, decided to leave the doctor be, and said, “Ladies and gentleman. Pick up your pencils and… go!”
Vesta locked eyes with the good doctor for a moment, and the man’s color deepened even more, if that was possible. Then he looked away, the blush of shame that had mantled his cheeks quickly spreading along his neck and chest, until he looked the victim of some dangerous disease.
Good thing they were obliged to draw in black and white, Vesta thought, or the result of today’s class would have been a study in scarlet.
CHAPTER 12
Art class had finished by the time we got home from our trip into town, and something very disturbing must have happened, for Marge and Tex weren’t on speaking terms. Marge had stormed into the house, followed by a disconsolate-looking Tex, though judging from Gran’s smiling face whatever drama had befallen our family, it couldn’t be all bad, for she was grinning from ear to ear.
“What’s going on?” asked Odelia when Gran breezed in for a little chat.
“You’ll never guess,” said the old lady.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” asked Odelia. “I just saw Mom’s face and it spelled storm.”
“She should be proud. Your dad has launched himself in a new and promising career.”
“What career?” asked Odelia, clearly as puzzled as the rest of us.
“He’s a male model now.”
And as she spoke these words, she burst into a torrent of laughter.
Odelia wasn’t laughing, and neither was Chase. “A male what?” he asked.
“A male model. The regular model was a no-show, and so the teacher introduced a replacement. Imagine our surprise when it turned out to be Tex!”
“But why?”
“How should I know what goes on in that man’s head?” She shook her own head. “I’ve always said that these medical men have too much brain in those heads of theirs, and sooner or later something has to give. Looks like your dad has finally gone over the edge and is now in cloud cuckoo land.”
And with these words, she abruptly left, clearly eager to have a first-row seat to the drama that was unfolding next door.
“My dad, a model,” said Odelia, still shocked.
“I don’t believe it,” said Chase. “Your gran must have misunderstood.”
“Yeah, obviously. Why would my dad suddenly want to be a model?”
But since no more explanations seemed forthcoming, we decided it was time to leave for cat choir. After all, the affairs of humans are all very fascinating, but at some point they have to take a back seat to the affairs of cats, our first priority.
And so the four of us headed out, traipsing along the sidewalk, wondering what had induced Odelia’s dad to change careers all of a sudden.
“He probably needs the extra money,” said Harriet. “Life is getting more and more expensive, as we all know, and Tex must have decided to take a second job.”
“I don’t think being a male model pays the big bucks,” I said.
“No, but it does,” said Harriet. “Everyone knows that a model has to start somewhere, and probably Tex is trying to break into the big leagues by taking it one step at a time.” A sort of dreamy look had stolen over her face. “Soon he’ll be walking the catwalk in Paris, London, Milan and New York for Fashion Week. I’m sure he’ll be one of the most-sought after male models of our time, and then, who knows, maybe he could even break into the movie business and become an actor.”
“Tex is too old to be a model or an actor,” said Brutus.
“No, he’s not. The industry needs models of all ages,” said Harriet. “And besides, I think Tex still looks pretty good for his age, don’t you?”
Brutus chose to wisely keep his tongue.
I didn’t think Tex had the right look or the right age to launch himself as a top model either, but then I wasn’t really interested in that side of the man’s career.
At least, I wasn’t until Dooley made a remark that set me thinking.
“If Tex drops his job as a doctor, who’s going to pay the bills?” he asked. “And if no one is paying the bills, who’s going to buy us food and litter?”
“Oh, dear,” I said. Dooley was right, of course. Since it’s very hard for cats to hold down a job, we depend on our humans to keep us in the style to which we’ve become accustomed. “I hope Tex isn’t foolish enough to drop his job as a doctor.”
“Haven’t you listened to a word I said?” said Harriet. “Tex is going to hit the big time, I’m sure of it. Before you know it he’ll be on the cover of Vogue. And let me tell you, those models make more money than a measly small-town doctor.”
Somehow I didn’t think this was so, and even if it was, the chances of Tex becoming a top model and being on the cover of Vogue were slim to none.
“Isn’t Vogue for women only?” Brutus ventured.
“I’m sure they’ll make an exception for an exceptional talent,” Harriet said.
And as the discussion raged on, suddenly I thought I heard something behind us. When I glanced back, I distinctly saw movement. Someone or something furtively ducking into the bushes lining the sidewalk, moving out of sight.
Odd, I thought. But when I tried to bring this to the attention of my friends, they were too busy discussing Tex’s future prospects—or lack thereof—to bother.
And as we finally reached the park, I had this strong sense of foreboding, and when I glanced back once more, I clearly saw a flash. And this time I was more certain than ever: it was the light of a streetlamp reflecting on a smartphone.
Someone was filming us!
CHAPTER 13
“Honey, what were you thinking!”
“I was thinking about you, with that naked model artist guy,” said Tex miserably as he carefully folded his pants and draped them over the back of a chair.
They were in their bedroom, where no prying eyes or inquisitive voices could interrupt them. Marge was washing her face with a special lotion preparatory to applying the even more special—and costly—cream she’d recently bought on Scarlett Canyon’s instigation. A cream designed to keep her looking young forever, if the commercials were to be believed. And even though by all rights she should be mad at her husband, thinking back to the moment he’d been lying there, in those ridiculous pink boxers, once again brought a smile to her face.
“At least you could have worn a decent pair of boxers,” she now said.
“I had no idea I was actually going to have to be a model!” Tex cried, sitting down on the bed, bouncing down once, then bouncing up again, too wired to sit still for even one second. “All I wanted was to talk to your teacher. Tell him to switch from live model drawing to still lifes. But the moment I arrived he seemed to think I was volunteering as a model, and before I knew what was going on, he had me in a dressing gown and mounting that stage!”
“I thought you’d managed for the other guy not to show up.”
“I had nothing to do with that. And Chekhov didn’t seem to know either.”
Marge laughed her tinkling laugh. “You should have told Chanda you’re a doctor, not a model.”
“I did tell him. More than once. But I don’t think he heard.”
“He was probably glad to have someone—anyone to model for us.”
“I can’t believe he actually made me go through with that,” Tex grumbled.
“And I can’t believe you agreed to go through with it,” said Marge. She smiled at her hubby of twenty-five years. “Though I have to say you still have what it takes, honey. You were a big hit.”
“I don’t care. This was the first and last time I’m doing something like this.”
“Are you sure? You could turn this into a career. Quit medicine and go into modeling full-time.”
“Never!” he cried, aghast at her suggestion.
“So you’re just going to let this other guy model in the nude for your wife again?” she asked. A spasm of unease galvanized his lanky frame and he grimaced. “Are you sure you won’t get jealous again and storm in there to drag me out?”
“Now you’re just teasing me,” he complained.
“Of course I’m teasing you! Though I have to say I appreciate you standing up to protect my virtue, honey.”
“When Ida told me the story about this guy I had to do something,” he said with a shrug, then eyed her curiously. “So you thought I looked all right out there?”
“You looked absolutely fine,” she said, and meant it, too.
He might not have the chiseled chest and sculpted musculature of the other guy, but Tex still looked pretty good for his age. He’d obviously been taking good care of himself. And besides, he looked like a real person, whereas the other guy looked like something out of a magazine, photoshopped and unreal.
“Just promise me next time you’ll change your boxers,” she repeated.
“There will be no next time,” he grumbled.
“So you say,” she said, and gave him a light pat on those boxers—the same ones he’d worn in class. Somehow she had a feeling those boxers would be the talk of the town tomorrow. She got up, ready to turn in. “Let’s go to bed, mh?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Want me to do some private modeling for you?”
“Oh, yes, please, Doctor Poole,” she said virtuously.
Half an hour later a knock sounded at the door.
“Is everything all right in there?” the voice of her mother sounded behind the door. “You two haven’t killed each other, have you?”
She smiled at her husband, who gave her a wolfish grin in return.
“No, we’re fine,” she yelled back. “In fact we’re better than fine!”
Who knew that some light male modeling would prove such a boon for their love life? Something to mention to Odelia. She could write about it for the women’s section of the Gazette tomorrow. Without naming names, of course.
But then Tex got his second wind, and she forgot all about their daughter.
Ma must have been listening, for she could hear her mumble, “Get a room.”
CHAPTER 14
The next morning we were all present and accounted for in Uncle Alec’s office. And when I say all, I mean myself, Dooley, Chase and Odelia, and of course the big man himself.
The latter had a few things to discuss with our intrepid detectives, namely the unfortunate demise of one Dylon Pipe, burglar by profession, but apparently not a very good one, or else he wouldn’t have toppled to his death outside the apartment building he was burgling.
“No coroner’s report yet,” the Chief said as he glared at me, as if I’d personally prevented the coroner from doing his job. “Abe told me he’s got a backlog of bodies to process, so it might be a couple of days before he gets round to our friendly neighborhood burglar. But so far it looks like an accidental death.”
“Any news on that necklace?” asked Odelia. “Only Laia called me this morning, all atwitter about her necklace. Apparently it’s worth a great deal of money.”
“How much is a great deal?” asked Uncle Alec.
“Let’s just say it could buy you a house… or ten,” said Odelia.
The Chief’s eyebrows shot up. “Ten houses? And they kept that thing at the loft?”
“She only just got it as a present from her mom and dad,” Odelia explained, “so they hadn’t decided where to keep it yet.”
“In a safe at the bank would be my best bet,” said Chase.
“Well, I’m sure they will put it there now, once they get it back.” She shot her uncle a meaningful look, but the latter merely shook his head.
“I’m sorry, but Abe says Mr. Pipe didn’t have the necklace on him. In fact nothing of value was found on the body, I’m afraid.”
“But how is that possible?” asked Odelia.
“Maybe it fell out of his pocket and someone picked it up?” Chase suggested.
“It’s possible,” Uncle Alec conceded. “At any rate, I’ve got a couple of uniforms doing a house-to-house to see if anyone saw anything suspicious last night.”
“Could be that one of the neighbors saw the guy take a tumble and picked up the necklace,” said Chase. “Or a passerby, figuring it was their lucky night.”
“We’ll know more when I get the report from the neighborhood canvass,” said Odelia’s uncle. “Though from what I hear that neighborhood isn’t extremely cooperative. Seems they’re up in arms against these street works. Something about the cobblestones. They even formed an anti-cobblestone committee.”
“What do they have against cobblestone?” asked Chase, genuinely curious.
“Something to do with it being bad for their cars,” said the Chief. “And making too much noise when someone drives through the street.”
“It’s true that a cobblestone street makes a lot more noise than an asphalted one,” said Odelia. “I once wrote an article about it for the paper, with an expert measuring the decibels produced by the two types. There’s a marked difference.”
“I thought the whole point of a cobblestone street was to reduce traffic, and lower the speed,” said Chase, “since driving across those stones makes drivers automatically slow down.”
“Yeah, well, they’re dead set against it,” said the Chief. “In other news,” he said, changing the topic from one he clearly wasn’t all that interested in, “did you know that Dylon Pipe and his victim knew each other?” He directed this question at his niece, whom he considered an expert on all things Jay Green through her recent association with the guy.
“Jay and Dylon knew each other?” asked Odelia, sounding surprised.
“Yeah, they were in school together. They’re the same age, in fact, and still move in the same circles. The art world,” he added for Chase’s sake.
“Dylon was also an artist?” asked Odelia.
“He was. And a popular model at the art school. Evening classes.” He leaned back with a grin on his broad face. “And guess who’s one of the students in his class?”
“Mom and Gran,” said Odelia.
Uncle Alec frowned. “Sounds like you know more about it than me.”
“Oh, and Scarlett has been going, too,” said Odelia. “And Charlene, of course.”
Her uncle’s frown deepened. “Charlene and Dylon Pipe? She didn’t tell me.”
“It’s just drawing, Uncle Alec. Nothing more.”
“Mh,” he said, clearly not convinced that nothing untoward was going on. “Anyway, he’s dead now,” he added, miraculously cheering up a great deal. “And when he failed to show up for his class last night, the teacher came up with a last-minute replacement. A man we all know and love.” And with a sort of flourish, he turned his computer screen, where the picture of a naked man was featured.
Though when I looked closer, I saw that the man was actually wearing a pair of pink boxers to cover his modesty. It was Odelia’s dad, of course.
“I heard the story, but I hadn’t seen the pictures,” said Chase. He suppressed a grin, darting curious glances at his wife, whose face had turned beet-red.
“I did not have to see that,” said our human. “I so did not have to see that.”
“Same here,” said the Chief. “But unfortunately I had no choice in the matter. This picture is circulating on all social media this morning. In fact it’s the talk of the town. And the precinct, of course.” He growled, “And because this is my brother-in-law making a total ass of himself, they all figure I should be the first one to see any new pictures or memes as they appear online.”
“Someone took a lot of pictures,” said Chase, snickering freely now as his boss scrolled through some more images of what must have been a historic session.
Odelia averted her gaze. “My eyes,” she said plaintively. “They’re burning!”
CHAPTER 15
Odelia was back at her office. The meeting with her uncle hadn’t gone as she had anticipated. For one thing, she still couldn’t give Laia Twine good news about her necklace, poor girl. And now they even had to learn the shocking news that the man who had stolen their necklace was actually a friend of Jay’s, the poor guy.
Dylon Pipe must really have been down on his luck, to go and burgle his friend’s place. He must have discovered that Jay was dating a rich young woman, and must have figured he wanted some of that for himself.
She was pretty sure the necklace would eventually be found, though. Maybe it had slipped underneath a car parked nearby, or fallen into a crack or even slipped through a sewer grate when Dylon hit the ground. She had every faith in her uncle’s people, who were doing their utmost to find the young burglar’s loot.
She glanced over to her cats, sound asleep in a corner of her office, and smiled. They, too, had had to brave the sight of her dad in those ridiculous boxers, but apparently they had endured the experience with admirable fortitude, as had she.
No girl likes to see her daddy, who will always be something of a personal hero to her, making a fool of himself like that. And she’d just picked up the phone to call her mom when a man walked into her office who she’d never seen before.
