Purrfect Crime (The Mysteries of Max Book 5) Read online

  Purrfect Crime

  The Mysteries of Max 5

  Nic Saint

  Puss in Print Publications

  Contents

  Purrfect Crime

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Ghost of Girlband Past (Ghosts of London 5)

  About Nic

  Also by Nic Saint

  Purrfect Crime

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  When former actress and lifestyle guru Donna Bruce is found murdered in her sauna cabin, stung to death by bees, Odelia and Chase are on the case. Meanwhile Odelia’s tabby Max has his own issues to deal with. The vet has decided the flabby tabby is too flabby and has put Max on a strict diet. Feeling weak and out of sorts, the blorange cat has a hard time coming up with original ideas to solve the crime his human is grappling with. And then there’s the fact that Odelia has decided that this time Harriet, her mother’s white Persian, is in charge of the case, leading the feline sleuths even further astray.

  Harriet’s idea of investigating a crime is surfing the web and sifting through Internet gossip, and since Odelia doesn’t seem to be making any headway in the case it’s up to Max and Dooley to save the day and find that telling clue that will lead them to Donna’s killer. Will Max be able to stick to his diet? Will Gran be able to control her online shopping habits? And will Odelia and Chase finally go on their first date? Find out in Purrfect Crime, the fifth installment in the funny cozy cat mystery series The Mysteries of Max.

  Prologue

  Donna Bruce was a woman profoundly in love with herself. From personal experience she knew there was no other person as amazing as she was. She was smart, successful, beautiful, and, above all, she was kind to humans, children and dogs, which cannot be said about everyone. She was a giver, not a taker. In fact she gave so much she often wondered if people appreciated her enough.

  Her kids, for instance, could probably love her more for all the sacrifices she had made. For one thing, they’d pretty much ruined her figure. After the twins were born, something strange but not very wonderful had happened to her hips. They’d never looked the same again. And when she saw what breastfeeding did to her boobs, she’d vowed never to fall into that horrible trap again.

  She now carefully tucked her golden tresses beneath the pink shower cap, wrapped the white towel embroidered with her company’s crest—a nicely rendered tiara—around her perfectly toned and tanned body, and stepped into the sauna cabin. She had the cabin installed only six months ago as a special treat to herself when donna.vip, the lifestyle website she’d launched a decade ago, had topped 200 million in revenue.

  She languidly stretched out on the authentic Finnish wood bench, took a sip from her flute of Moët & Chandon Dom Perignon, and closed her eyes. She’d just done a conference call with her CEO and now it was time to relax. Later today she had a session with her private fitness coach scheduled, and to top it all off she was going to treat herself to a healing massage as well. Time to get pampered!

  And she’d just reached that slightly drowsy state she enjoyed so much when a soft clanking sound attracted her attention. She opened her eyes and saw through the slight haze that filled the cabin that there was someone moving about outside.

  She frowned, wondering who it could be. Her housekeeper Jackie wasn’t coming in until ten, and the rest of the staff knew better than to intrude on her alone time. It was hard to make out the person’s face, as the one small window was all steamed up. With a grunt of annoyance she got up and wiped her hand across the glass to look out. And that’s when she noticed something very disturbing: the person was wearing a mask of some kind. One of those silly Halloween masks.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she called out.

  But the intruder just stood there, unmoving, staring at her through the black mask that covered his or her entire face.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “Answer me at once!”

  When the person didn’t respond, she shook her head and took a firm grip on the wood door handle, giving it a good yank. The door didn’t budge. She tried again, knowing that these sauna doors could be sticky, but to no avail. And that’s when she saw that someone—presumably the masked person outside—had stuck a long object through the door’s handle, blocking it. It was her long handle loofah, the one she’d intended to take into the sauna with her.

  “Hey! This isn’t funny!” she cried, tapping the pane furiously. “Open this door right now!”

  And that’s when the masked figure reacted for the first time by raising a hand and pointing a finger at her, cocking their thumb and making a shooting gesture. And in that exact moment, she became aware of an odd sound that seemed to come from somewhere above her head. A buzzing sound. She looked up in alarm, and when she saw the first dozen bees streaming into the sauna cabin, she uttered a cry of shock and fear.

  She rapped the window again, more frantic this time. “Let me out! Why are you doing this to me?! Just let me out of here!”

  More bees fluttered into the cramped space and soon started filling it. There must have been hundreds, or maybe even thousands! And as they descended upon her, she felt the first stings. She started swatting them away with her towel, but there were too many of them, and for some reason they seemed drawn to her, whipped into a frenzy by some unknown cause. And as she stumbled and fell, desperately flapping her hands in a bid to get rid of the pesky insects, she soon succumbed. Her final thought, before she lost consciousness was, “Why me?!”

  Chapter 1

  Having spent most of the night outside, looking up at the stars and commenting to Dooley on their curious shape, attending a meeting of cat choir in the nearby Hampton Cove Park, and generally contemplating the state of the world and my place in it, I was ready to perform my daily duty and make sure my human Odelia Poole got a bright and early start on her day. I do this by jumping up onto her bed, plodding across Odelia’s sleeping form, and finally kneading her arm until she wakes up and gives me a cuddle. This has been our morning ritual since just about forever.

  When I finally reached the top of the stairs, slightly winded, a pleasant sound emanating from the bedroom filled me with a warm and fuzzy feeling of benevolence: Odelia was softly snoring, indicating she was in urgent need of a wake-up catcall. So I padded over, and jumped up onto the foot of the bed. At least, that was my intention, only for some reason I must have misjudged the distance, for instead of landing on all fours on the bed, I landed on my butt on the bedside rug.

  I shook my head, happy that no one saw me in this awkward position. With a slight shrug of the shoulders, I decided to try again. This time the result was even worse. I never even cleared the bed frame, let alone the mattress or the comforter. Like an Olympic pole vaulter who discovers he’s lost the abi
lity, I suddenly found myself facing a new and horrifying reality: I couldn’t jump anymore!

  “Hey, Max,” a familiar voice sounded behind me. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing, Dooley?” I grumbled. “I’m trying to jump into bed!”

  He paused, then asked, “So why are you still on the floor?”

  “Because…” I stared up at the bed, which all of a sudden had turned into an insurmountable obstacle for some reason. “Actually I don’t know what’s going on. The bed just seems higher now.”

  “A sudden weakness,” Dooley decided knowingly. “It happens to me all the time.”

  “Well, it doesn’t happen to me,” I said, scratching my head. Yes, cats scratch their heads. We just make sure we retract our claws, otherwise it would be a fine mess.

  “You probably need food. Did you have breakfast? When I don’t have my breakfast I feel weak. Do you feel weak?”

  I gave him my best scowl. “I feel fine. And for your information, yes, I did have my breakfast. The best kibble money can buy and a nice chunk of chicken and liver paté.”

  “Wow, what happened?”

  “What do you mean, what happened?”

  “I thought Odelia only got you the cheap stuff? Why did she go out and splurge all of a sudden?”

  “I guess she felt I deserved it. I have been helping her solve murder case after murder case lately.”

  “Me too, but I didn’t get any special treats.”

  “You have to file your complaint with Gran, Dooley. She is your human, after all.”

  Dooley’s Ragamuffin face sagged. “Gran has been too busy to notice me lately.”

  “Too busy? Why, what’s she been up to?”

  “Beats me. She’s been receiving packages in the mail. A lot of them. In fact Marge and Tex are pretty much fed up with her. Seems like they’re the ones who have to pay for all those packages.”

  Perhaps now would be a good time to make some introductions, especially for the people who haven’t been following my adventures closely. My name is Max, as you have probably deduced, and I’m something of a private cat sleuth. Since Odelia is a reporter and always in need of fresh and juicy stories, I’m only too happy to supply them. My frequent collaborator on these outings is Dooley, my best friend and neighbor. Dooley’s human is Vesta Muffin, Odelia’s grandmother who lives next door. Dooley is my wingcat. My partner in crime. Between you and me, Dooley is not exactly the brightest bulb in the bulb shop, so it’s a good thing he’s got me. I’m smart enough for the both of us.

  “Why don’t I give you a paw up?” Dooley asked now.

  “I don’t know…” I muttered. I glanced behind Dooley, making sure he was alone. If we were going to do this, I didn’t want there to be any witnesses.

  Dooley followed my gaze. “What are you looking at?” Then he got it. “Oh, if you’re looking for Harriet, she was fast asleep in Brutus’s paws. Those two must have had a rough night.”

  My face clouded. Being reminded of Brutus usually has a souring effect on my mood. You see, Brutus is what us cats call an intruder. He came waltzing into our lives a couple of weeks ago and has refused to leave ever since. He belongs to Chase Kingsley, a cop Odelia has taken a liking to, but seems to spend an awful lot of time next door, cozying up to Harriet, Odelia’s mom’s white Persian.

  I made up my mind. “Let’s do this,” I grunted. If we didn’t, Odelia might wake up of her own accord, and I’d miss my window of opportunity to put in some much-needed snuggle time.

  Dooley padded up to me and plunked down on his haunches. “How do you want to do this?”

  “Simple. I jump and you give me a boost.”

  “You mean, like, on the count of three or something?”

  “Or something.” I got ready, poised at the foot of the bed and said, “One—two—”

  “Wait,” Dooley said. “Are we doing this on three or after three?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do I boost you on three, or right after?”

  “Why would you boost me right after? The count of three usually means the count of three, Dooley.”

  “So, one, two, three and boost? Or one, two, three, pause, and then boost?”

  “One, two, three, boost,” I said, starting to lose my patience. “Now, are we doing this or not?”

  He thought about this for a moment, a puzzled look on his face. “Do you want to do this?”

  “Of course I want to do this! Preferably before we die of old age.”

  Dooley’s eyes went wide. “Die of old age? Do you think we’re dying, Max?!”

  “No, we’re not dying! I just want to put in some snuggle time, is that so hard to understand?”

  “Oh, right,” he said, understanding dawning. “I thought you said we were dying.”

  For some reason Dooley has been obsessing about dying lately. Usually I can talk him out of it, but then he sees something on TV and the whole thing starts all over again.

  “Are you ready?”

  Dooley nodded. “I’m ready, Max.”

  “One—two—”

  “Wait!”

  I groaned. “What is it now?”

  “Where do I boost you?”

  “Up the bed! Where else?”

  “No, I mean, do I boost your butt or your hind paws or what? I’m new to this boosting business,” he explained apologetically.

  “It’s not exactly an Olympic discipline, Dooley. There are no rules. You can boost me wherever you want.” On second thought… “Though stay away from my butt.”

  “Right. Stay away from your butt. So where…”

  “Anywhere but my butt! Now one—two—”

  “Max!”

  “What?!”

  “What if I boost you too hard and you end up flying across the bed and down the other side?”

  I fixed him with a hard look. “Trust me, Dooley, the chances of that happening are slim to none. I mean, look at us. I’m like the Dwayne Johnson of cats and you’re more like Andrew Garfield in Hacksaw Ridge, all scrawny and mangy. You’ll be lucky if you can boost me a couple inches, which is all I need,” I hastened to add.

  “Do you think I’m too mangy?” asked Dooley with a frown.

  “Not too mangy. You’re just thin is all. A very healthy thin.”

  “Not a sickly thin? Like an I’m-about-to-die thin?”

  Oh, God. I did not need this aggravation. “Absolutely not. More like a my-name-is-Gwyneth-Paltrow-and-I’m-willowy-and-gorgeous kind of thin.”

  “I thought you said I looked like Andrew Garfield?”

  “In a very Gwyneth Paltrow-y way.”

  This seemed to please him, as he gave me a grateful smile. “Why, thanks, Max. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Great. Now about that boost?”

  “Oh! Right! I forgot all about that.”

  “Focus, Dooley. Now, are you ready?”

  “Ready,” he said, his face a study in concentration.

  “One—two—three—”

  “Boost!” he cried and placed both paws on my butt, giving me a mighty shove.

  And… we had liftoff! Only it didn’t last very long, nor did it carry me where I was aiming to go. Instead, I plunked right back down again, landing on top of Dooley, who ended up squeezed beneath my sizable buns.

  There was a momentary pause, while we both figured out what went wrong, then Dooley croaked, “Can you please lift your butt, Max? You’re choking me!”

  Applause broke out behind us, and a loud cackling sound, and when I looked up, I saw we’d been joined by Harriet and Brutus. The latter was applauding, a Draco Malfoy-type sneer on his mug, and Harriet was doing the cackling, apparently finding the whole scene hilarious.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked with an angry look at the newly arrived.

  “You!” Brutus cried. “You’re so fat you can’t even jump on the bed!”

  “I’m not fat! I’m just… experiencing some issues w
ith my takeoff.”

  “Issues with your takeoff! You’re not an airplane, Max. You’re a cat. A cat too fat to fly!” Harriet dissolved into giggles while Brutus was laughing so hard his belly shook.

  “Max!” Dooley breathed. “You’re… choking… me…”

  I released Dooley by lifting my butt, then resumed my scowling. “I’m not fat—I’m big-boned. There’s a difference. And Odelia probably bought a new bed, that’s all. I never had any trouble jumping into the old bed, which was still here yesterday morning. Isn’t that right Dooley?”

  But Dooley was still catching his breath, taking big gulps of it.

  “That’s the exact same bed as always,” said Brutus. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Girlfriend stealer.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Here we go again.”

  Brutus had walked up to me and poked my chest with his paw. “You kissed my girlfriend, Max. I saw you so don’t try to deny it.”

  “I didn’t kiss anyone! She kissed me!”

  “That’s what you say.”

  “Because that’s what happened!”

  He leaned in and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I thought we had an understanding, Max. I thought you and I were friends. And then you went and did a thing like that.” He pursed his lips. “You’re despicable. There’s no other word for it.”

  “I didn’t kiss her,” I hissed. “She kissed me. I’m not even interested in Harriet!”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Harriet asked with a laugh.