Purrfectly Royal (The Mysteries of Max Book 13) Read online

  Purrfectly Royal

  The Mysteries of Max 13

  Nic Saint

  Puss in Print Publications

  Contents

  Purrfectly Royal

  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

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

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

  About Nic

  Also by Nic Saint

  Purrfectly Royal

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  When Tessa Torrance, newly minted royal and wife of Prince Dante, becomes the target of a suspected assassination attempt, her mother’s first instinct is to ask Tessa’s old friend Odelia Poole to track down the would-be assailant. Odelia, Chase and Odelia’s grandmother are flown over to England and move into Newtmore Cottage with Tess and Dante. They soon find themselves in over their heads when the hits keep on coming and things get very hairy indeed.

  Good thing Odelia’s cats have traveled along with her to the Land of Hope and Glory, in a bid to lend support to Tessa’s English bulldog Fluffy. All the cats can think of, though, is meeting those most famous pets of all: the Queen’s corgis. But when Gran gets it into her nut that she wants to be Queen of America, things quickly spiral out of control.

  Will Odelia and Chase be able to save the Duchess of Essex from certain death? Will Gran become America’s first Queen? And if that’s the case, who will be First Cat? Find out in Purrfectly Royal, Max’s most regal adventure yet.

  Prologue

  Tessa Torrance was giving instructions to the two kids manning the face painting stand. It was still early, and not many people had shown up yet for the annual Royal Newtmore Summer Show, but tickets had sold like crazy, and the day promised to be sunny and fun-filled.

  The lithe, raven-haired wife of Prince Dante let her proud gaze drift along the different stalls. She was in charge of the children’s activities, and they were plenty: an urban farm, a big bouncy castle, animal balloons, a puppet show, a unicorn dance party and lots and lots more.

  Tessa felt proud of her team of kids who’d worked tirelessly to set everything up. The festivities took over the Newtmore Estate and were always a big draw with the public. A jazz band was warming up nearby, and Master Chocolatier Tait Herder, well-known for his TV show Chocoholics Unite, was setting up shop in the shade of a birch tree.

  The proceeds this year were going to the charity foundation Tessa and Dante had recently set up, and the event was very close to their hearts. She was ecstatic, therefore, when ticket sales had exceeded their expectations.

  She searched around for her hubby. There were still days when she could hardly believe her luck and had to pinch herself when she woke up. She’d been a struggling actress in a middling TV show that wasn’t all that popular and now here she was: an actual duchess with a global platform, which allowed her to do so much good, with her soulmate as her life partner.

  Her phone jangled and she took it out of the back pocket of her black Capri pants. “Yeah, Karlotta, how is she?”

  They’d left Silvy in the able care of their nanny Karlotta, a German au-pair who loved their sweet baby girl almost as much as she and Dante did.

  “Oh, she is perfectly fine, but I think she misses you, Ma’am,” said the girl with typical breathy exasperation.

  “What do you mean? Is she crying?”

  “Not crying. Giving me strange looks. As if I’m a dragon and she wants to slay me!”

  Tessa laughed. Silvy was prone to bouts of moodiness, and sometimes looked exactly like the au-pair described.

  “Don’t worry about that. That’s just her way of saying she’s not happy about something. I’ll bet she’s hungry. Have you fed her?”

  “I was just about to, Ma’am,” said the nanny. “But maybe first you should talk to her? She usually settles down when she hears your voice.”

  “Put her on,” said Tessa with an indulgent smile. “Hey, baby,” she said when she heard Silvy’s snuffling sounds. “Mommy will be home soon.”

  The snuffling intensified in volume, then the baby sneezed, as if to say: ‘Why did you leave me alone with this horrible German woman?’

  “I’ll try to pop in soon,” she said. She always felt guilty about leaving Silvy in the care of Karlotta, but this event was so very important to her and Dante.

  “That’s fine, Ma’am,” said Karlotta. “I will feed her now, shall I?”

  “Yes, please do. Oh, and Karlotta?”

  “Yes, Ma’am?”

  “Could you please, please, please just call me Tessa?”

  “Of course, Ma’am,” said the girl, then promptly disconnected.

  “Oh, blimey,” said Tessa with a smile, then put her phone away.

  She looked up when Dante came running up to her, waving his arms.

  Oh, how sweet. Two years into their marriage and they were still crazy in love. She waved back. She noticed his face had taken on an even darker tinge of scarlet than usual. A redhead, Dante was prone to ruddiness, something which she thought was awfully cute. She’d never dated a red-haired man before, and now she felt it was one of Dante’s most appealing features.

  When he shouted something, and gesticulated wildly, her smile fell.

  Then, suddenly, she realized he was pointing to something above her.

  She looked up, just in time to see something hurtling down towards her.

  In a split second, she threw herself to the side, and moments later the projectile, for that was what it was, crashed to the ground. It was a giant ball of stone, three feet wide, and would have crushed her if she hadn’t jumped.

  Dante was upon her, and cried, “Are you all right, Tessa? Tessa!”

  “I—I’m fine,” she said, dazed and confused. “Wha—what happened?”

  “The stone—it came loose. I saw it happening just as I looked up.”

  They both stared at the massive object, then at the top of the wall of Newtmore House where it had fallen from.

  “Dante,” she said, a tremor in her voice. “You—you just saved my life.”

  Chapter 1

  It had been a rough night so far, cat choir a disastrous experience. Shanille, our conductor, had the gall to tell me, and in front of the whole group, too, if you please, that I sang so much out of tune that either I took private lessons to improve my singing, or she was going to kick me out of cat choir altogether.

  Apparently—and this is only hearsay so take it with a grain of kibble—two members had complained. They were cats standing in my immediate vicinity, claiming that I sang so loud and so pitchy they had trouble singing in tune themselves, and as a consequence the performance of all the tenors suffered.

  Harriet, of course, thought the whole thing hilarious,
and had laughed heartily. She, a prominent member of the sopranos, didn’t have to worry about her position and standing, and obviously didn’t care a hoot that I did.

  “But I don’t sing out of tune!” I cried in feeble protest, knowing full well that the damage was done and the minds of fellow choir members made up.

  Shanille looked hesitant. She doesn’t like disciplining people, but she has a choir to run, and choirs are like leashes: they’re only as strong as their weakest link—or is that chains? At any rate, evidently that weakest link was me.

  “Okay,” she finally said, relenting. Possibly for the dear old friendship we shared. “Sing after me.” And she proceeded to intone one of the harder songs on our repertoire, a vocal run I’d never particularly liked or enjoyed singing.

  “Ooh-aah-eeh-aah-ooh-aah-aah,” she sang. Beautifully, I might add.

  So I repeated the exact same run, only in a lower register. I also closed my eyes, as I’d seen Mariah Carey do, and I adopted the way she likes to touch her ear when she sings. I like to think it makes me look like a professional. But when I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Shanille’s frown.

  I gave her my best smile. “How did I do? Blew you away, right?”

  “With a wrecking ball,” commented Milo, one of my least favorite choir members.

  Shanille swallowed nervously. “Maybe give it another shot, Max,” she said encouragingly. “And this time keep your eyes open and focus on me.”

  I could see where she was coming from. After all, what good is a choir conductor if the choir members won’t even bother keeping her in their sights? Only problem is, I feel more in control and able to focus better on my singing when I’m not distracted by the others. But seeing as this was one of those do-or-die moments, I decided not to play hardball but acquiesce instead.

  “Ooh-aah-eeh-aah-ooh-aah-aah,” I sang with feeling.

  Judging from the way Shanille winced, it was not my best work.

  And when the final note had died away, she spoke those fateful words: “Max, I think you should find a private tutor, and only come back when you’ve improved to a spectacular degree.”

  “But, Shanille!”

  To no avail. I could tell from the way she curled her upper lip she wasn’t budging.

  “I’m sorry, Max. I have the other members to think about.”

  I let my gaze glide pleadingly over the faces of these other members, most of whom I’d known for years, many who were my bestest, closest friends. Like Dooley, and Brutus, and Harriet. But all I got in return were blank looks. And then Dooley said, “I can tutor you, Max.”

  “I don’t think so, Dooley,” said Shanille before I had a chance to respond. “But thanks for the offer.”

  “I could tutor him,” said Brutus, a little gruffly.

  “You’re a bass, Brutus,” Shanille pointed out. “You can’t tutor a tenor.”

  “Why don’t I tutor him?” Harriet suggested. But then the meaning of Shanille’s words got through to her, and she added, “Oh, but I’m a soprano, so that’s probably a no-no, right?”

  “I’m a tenor,” said Milo. “Though I doubt whether a private tutor will do him any good. Singing is one of those talents you either possess or don’t possess, and clearly Max doesn’t have what it takes to be a singer.”

  “Milo,” said Brutus warningly, taking my side. It warmed my heart.

  “I’m only saying this to help you, Max,” Milo said. “No offense, buddy, but you’re probably better off finding yourself a different hobby. Whittling, for instance. You could bring a lot of beauty into this world by whittling, Max.”

  “I don’t whittle,” I said, trying to put a growl into my voice and failing miserably. I’m not a natural growler. And apparently not a singer either.

  “Max,” said Shanille. “I’d teach you myself, but since I’m busy, busy, busy…”

  I nodded morosely. I could see which way the wind was blowing, and it definitely wasn’t blowing in my direction.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll just... go, I guess.”

  And so I started moving away. I sorta, kinda hoped multiple voices would ring out clamoring, “No, Max, don’t go! Cat choir just isn’t the same without you!”

  But no voices rang out in the night at all. None whatsoever. Instead, the moment my back was turned, choir practice recommenced as if nothing had happened. Then, suddenly, as I walked off, head low and my spirits even lower, I became aware of a presence next to me. When I looked up, I saw that it was Dooley.

  “I’d still like to be your tutor, Max,” he said. “I think I could help you.”

  “Thanks, Dooley,” I said. “But you don’t have to do this.”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “Cat choir isn’t much fun without you there.”

  It touched my heart to such an extent I actually teared up. “Thanks, Dooley,” I said brokenly. “That means a lot to me, buddy.”

  “I’ll help you, too,” said a second voice. It was Brutus. “I know I’m a bass and you’re a tenor, but I’ll do what I can to make you rise to my level. It won’t be easy, of course, as I’m such an excellent singer, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

  “Gee, thanks, Brutus,” I said, strangely touched by his words.

  “And my offer still stands,” a third voice spoke. Harriet gave me a meaningful smile. “I’m sure together we’ll make you a singer yet, Max.”

  We walked on in silence for a few beats, then I said, “Am I really as bad as all that?”

  When they didn’t reply, but instead exchanged knowing glances, I had my answer. Yup. That was the night I learned what a terrible singer I really am!

  Hopefully, though, with a little help from my friends, I’d overcome this affliction.

  Chapter 2

  Chase woke up and blinked. He lay there, eyes wide open, wondering if it was time to get up. Judging from the fact that it was still dark out, it wasn’t. And a glance at his bedside clock told him it was two o’clock. At night.

  And then he heard it. Cats mewling and yowling and producing the kinds of sounds only cats can make.

  His lips twitched in amusement.

  He’d recently learned that his girlfriend, Odelia Poole, possessed the rare and wonderful ability of being able to talk to cats. And those same cats could actually hear her and understand what she was saying!

  It all seemed fantastical to him, and he’d never have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes and heard it with his own two ears.

  The only unfortunate aspect of the whole thing was that he wasn’t able to learn how to do it himself. He’d asked Odelia to teach him the language but she’d told him it wasn’t really a language but more of a mystical connection she and her mother and grandmother seemed to have with the feline species.

  Fair enough, but he still wished he possessed the same mystical connection, only maybe with dogs not cats. He loved dogs. Had always loved dogs. And just the idea that he would be a proud dog owner—or the dog the proud owner of him!—and that he could talk to the adorable mutt would be so great.

  He rubbed his face as he listened to the protracted wails and screeches.

  Odelia, of course, would know exactly what they were talking about, but one look at her tousled blond head told him she was still sound asleep.

  His curiosity getting the better of him, he padded over to the window and looked out into the night. A full moon lit up the backyard of the house he now shared with Odelia, and sure enough, four cats sat gathered in the postage stamp of a lawn, screeching and screaming their hearts out. As far as he could tell they were just making noise, but who was he kidding? For all he knew they were discussing quantum mechanics or the latest social media scandal.

  “They’re singing,” suddenly a voice sounded from the bed.

  He turned around with an amused expression on his face.

  Odelia’s tousled head had lifted and she was staring at him sleepily, her eyes half-lidded. “Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high… Or
at least that’s what they’re trying to sing. They’re not great singers, those cats of mine.”

  He laughed. “Are you seriously telling me they’re singing a song?”

  “Yup. They go to cat choir every night, which is more of an excuse to get together and socialize than to perform in Madison Square Garden one day.”

  “Hey, I like to sing,” he said. “Maybe I can join them?”

  “Be my guest,” she said, and lay back down. “But leave me out of it, will you? I have to work tomorrow and I need my eight hours.”

  He needed his eight hours, too, but one night of reduced slumber wouldn’t hurt, so he slipped his feet into his slippers and went downstairs to join the fearsome foursome as they traded notes and massacred Over The Rainbow.

  “Hey, guys,” he said as he walked out into the night, and cinched the sash of his bathrobe around his muscular form. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

  The cats meowed something he didn’t understand, but it didn’t sound hostile, so he dragged out a lawn chair and sat down. Then Max seemed to hold up a paw as if to count to three, and he bobbed his head in sync with his motions, then the cop and the four cats all broke into song.

  “Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high…”

  Suddenly a window was thrown open from the next house and a head poked out.