Purrfect Santa (Mysteries of Max Short Book 1) Page 9

  “I’ll just bet there are,” Odelia muttered, picking up one of the green eggs. “So how do you use these?” Then she noticed four pairs of cat eyes following her every movement and she put the egg down again. “Never mind. I’m sure I don’t want to know.”

  “And I’m sure you do,” said Gran. “If you want to entertain your fellow you need to practice the fine art of the jade egg, honey.”

  “Something to do with energy and healing, right?” asked Odelia with a frown.

  Gran threw her head back and laughed. “Of course not! It’s all about training those pelvic muscles. You want to get a good grip on your fella’s…” She cast a quick look at Dooley. “… fella. Increase the pleasure—his and yours. Trust me,” she said as she placed one of the green eggs in the palm of Odelia’s hand, “you’ll make your man very, very happy.”

  “That happy, huh?” asked Odelia as she rolled the smooth green egg in her hand.

  “Happier,” said Gran as she let the other two eggs disappear into the pockets of her dress. She gestured at the box. “Can you let this disappear, honey? Your mom and dad don’t need to know.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Odelia. “You’re not going to have this… stuff arrive here from now on, are you?”

  “Of course I am. I hate to break it to you, Odelia, but your parents are ageists. They think just because I’m old I’m all shriveled up down there.” She patted her granddaughter on the cheek. “Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact I’m pretty sure I get more nookie than those dried-up old prunes.”

  “Hey, that’s my parents you’re talking about.”

  “I know, which is why I’m so glad you’re nothing like them. You wouldn’t stand in the way of your grandmother enjoying her golden years, would you?”

  “No, but…”

  “Of course you wouldn’t.” She gave Odelia a fat wink. “Stick around, kid. You may learn a trick or two from this old dame.”

  And with these words, she practically galloped through the sliding door and disappeared into the garden, no doubt eager to start practicing those eggs on her hoo-hee, whatever a hoo-hee was.

  For a long moment, silence reigned, then Odelia said, “Right. I think I’ll just put that egg away, shall I?”

  “So what is it for, exactly?” asked Harriet.

  Odelia produced an awkward smile. “Decorative purposes?”

  Harriet narrowed her eyes at her. “A decorative egg is going to make Chase very, very happy?”

  “Yes, it will,” Odelia trudged on bravely. “Chase likes a nicely decorated… room.”

  She was backtracking towards the staircase, and we all watched her go. Then, suddenly, she turned around and popped up the stairs. We heard her rummage around in her bedroom, a drawer opening and closing. Those drawers contained a lot of funny-looking stuff. Amongst other things, they also contained a small battery-powered rocket, though I had no idea why Odelia would need a pocket rocket in her bedroom.

  Moments later, she returned, still that sheepish look on her face.

  Humans. They’re just too weird.

  Just then, the doorbell rang again.

  “More eggs?” asked Harriet acerbically.

  But when Odelia went to open the door, it was her uncle. Chief of Police Alec Lip. Like me, Chief Alec is big-boned. And, also like me, he’s a great guy. Always ready with a smile or a kind remark, which makes him real popular with the locals. He wasn’t smiling now, though, and when he opened his mouth to speak, it soon became clear why. “There’s been a murder. A really nasty one.”

  Chapter Three

  Odelia put the four cats in her old Ford pickup and followed Uncle Alec as he set the course in his police cruiser.

  “So who died?” asked Max, who’d crawled up on the passenger seat, as was his habit when there was no one else in the car. No other humans, at least.

  “A woman named Donna Bruce,” said Odelia, anxiously peering through the windshield. “She’s the one who sold Gran those green eggs.”

  “She’s a farmer?” asked Max.

  “No, she’s not a farmer. She’s a former actress who now runs a lifestyle website. A very popular one.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s happening in this town. It’s just one murder after another. If this keeps up, no tourists are going to want to come here anymore.”

  “Why did Uncle Alec say it was a nasty murder?” asked Dooley from the backseat.

  “Because the woman was murdered in a gruesome way.”

  She could hear Dooley gulp. Gran’s cat was a sensitive plant when it came to things like murder, and she was starting to wonder if it was such a good idea to bring him along. Max, she knew, could handle himself, and so could Brutus and Harriet. But Dooley was the baby of the cat menagerie, and sometimes got spooked by his own shadow. “Maybe you better wait in the car, Dooley,” she suggested. “While the others snoop around.”

  “But I want to snoop around, too,” said Dooley. “I love snooping around.”

  She smiled. That was obvious. All her cats loved snooping around, which was why she took them along in the first place. They often talked to other pets, or even pets that belonged to the victims, and had proved invaluable when ferreting out clues.

  Her uncle Alec was aware of this unique talent. Chase? Not so much, though by now he was used to this quirky side of her personality. He even thought it was cute. She’d never told him she could communicate with her cats, though, and probably never would. He might not take it too well.

  She thought about Chase and a warm and fuzzy feeling spread through her chest. She’d never thought she would fall for the rugged cop but she had. And by the looks of things, he liked her, too, which was a real boon. They even shared a comfortable working relationship now, which was very different from the way things were when they first met. The burly cop, a recent transplant from the NYPD, wasn’t used to nosy reporters investigating a bunch of crimes alongside him. Fortunately she’d quickly proven her worth, and now he was more than happy to allow her to tag along.

  As if he’d read her mind, Max asked, “So how are things between you and Chase?”

  “Yeah,” Harriet chimed in. “When are you going to get married?”

  She saw how Max and Dooley shared a quick look of panic and laughed. “Hold your horses, young lady. Who said anything about me and Chase getting married?”

  “It’s all over town,” said Harriet with a shrug. “All the cats are talking about it.”

  “Which means all the Hampton Covians are talking about it,” Max said.

  That was true enough. The Hampton Cove cat community was like a barometer of the human community. She blushed slightly. “So what are they saying, exactly?”

  “Well, that the wedding will take place later this year, though it might be sooner rather than later because the first baby is already underway.” The gorgeous Persian screwed up her face. “What is a shotgun wedding, Odelia?”

  Odelia’s blush deepened. “A shotgun wedding? Is that what they’re saying?”

  All four cats nodded. “I think it means that everybody brings a shotgun to the wedding,” said Brutus knowingly.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” said Max. “Why would anyone bring a shotgun to a wedding? That’s just dumb.”

  “Who are you calling dumb, fatso? They’re obviously bringing shotguns to make sure nobody crashes the wedding. Duh.”

  “Crashes the wedding?” asked Dooley. “Is that even a thing?”

  “Didn’t you see that movie last week? Wedding crashers? Two guys go around crashing weddings and having a blast,” said Brutus.

  “Until they fall in love and get married themselves,” said Harriet. “I thought it was the most romantic thing ever. Though I didn’t like that they portrayed Bradley Cooper as such a nasty person. I like Bradley Cooper. He’s so handsome and cute.”

  “He’s not that handsome,” said Brutus. “His mouth is too big for his face.”

  “It is not. His mouth is just the right size.”
>
  “The right size for what?” scoffed Brutus. “To load a Big Mac in one bite?”

  “Listen, you guys,” said Odelia, interrupting this fascinating discussion of Bradley Cooper’s face. “For one thing, Chase and I are not getting married. And for another, I’m not pregnant so there won’t be a shotgun wedding.”

  “That’s too bad,” said Harriet, her face falling. “I was looking forward to being a bridesmaid.”

  “That’s impossible,” said Max. “Cats can’t be bridesmaids. That’s just preposterous.”

  Harriet narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying, Max? That I wouldn’t make a wonderful bridesmaid? For your information, I would be the perfect bridesmaid. I don’t even have to wear a dress. I’m beautiful just the way I am.”

  Odelia smiled. “That’s true. And if I ever get married, you guys will all get to come.”

  Max groaned. “Do I have to? I hate weddings. Everybody is always crying. Those things are even worse than funerals.”

  “People are crying because they’re happy, Max,” said Odelia. “Those are happy tears.”

  “I don’t get it,” said the blorange cat. “Why cry when you’re happy? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Yes, it does,” said Harriet. “You wouldn’t understand, though, Max. And that’s because you’re a Neanderthal.”

  “No, I’m not,” said Max. “I’m a cat, not a Neanderthal.”

  “What’s a Neanderthal?” asked Dooley.

  “It’s a kind of old human,” said Max. “With a lot of hair and a big mouth.”

  “Like Bradley Cooper,” said Brutus.

  “Bradley Cooper is not a Neanderthal!” Harriet snapped. “Bradley Cooper is gorgeous.”

  “More gorgeous than me?” asked Brutus, stung.

  Harriet’s face softened. “Of course not, cutie pie. Nobody can be more gorgeous than you.”

  “Maybe you should have one of those shotgun weddings,” Max grumbled. “So I can bring a shotgun and shoot myself.”

  “We’re here,” said Odelia cheerfully, cutting off all this nonsense about a shotgun wedding. She just hoped those rumors hadn’t reached her mother’s ears. Nobody likes to hear about their daughter’s supposed pregnancy and forced wedding because of gossip. Then again, maybe it was a good thing. If people thought she and Chase were about to get married, she should probably take it as a compliment. Though the town’s gossip mill was obviously getting a little ahead of itself this time around.

  True, there had been a lot of kissing lately, but things hadn’t progressed beyond that. Yet. Did she want them to go beyond that stage? Maybe. Did Chase want to? She had absolutely no idea. Chase was one of those strong, silent types. The ones that don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves. Beyond those kisses they had yet to address whatever it was that was going on between them. Heck, he hadn’t even asked her out. Maybe he never would? Maybe those kisses were just a way of showing his appreciation for all she’d done for the community? Maybe it was an NYPD thing: instead of shaking hands, NYPD cops simply kissed their colleagues. It was definitely not something she’d ever seen on NYPD Blue. Then again, they never showed everything on those shows.

  She parked right behind her uncle’s squad car and got out, allowing the four cats to jump from their respective seats.

  “Let’s go, guys,” she said. “You know the drill. Talk to witnesses. Try to find out what happened here.”

  She watched the cats traipse up to the house and smiled. Her own personal feline detective squad. She wouldn’t know what to do without them.

  She watched her uncle take off his sunglasses and take in their surroundings. Donna Bruce had done well for herself, that much was obvious. The house was built in hacienda style, with a low red-tile roof and stuccoed orange outer walls.

  “Nice place,” said Uncle Alec admiringly. “Though more like something one would expect in the Hollywood Hills than out here in Hampton Cove.”

  “Isn’t Donna originally from Los Angeles?”

  “She is. She only moved out here to put some distance between herself and her ex-husband. And because her company is headquartered in New York.”

  “This is such a coincidence,” Odelia said as she watched the police activity around the house. Half a dozen squad cars were haphazardly parked on the circular driveway, and an ambulance stood, lights flashing, indicating the coroner was already there.

  “What is?” asked her uncle, hoisting his pants over his bulk and patting down his few strands of hair.

  “Just this morning a package arrived from donna.vip for your mother.”

  Chief Alec closed his eyes. “God, not again. I thought Marge put a stop to that nonsense.”

  “What nonsense?”

  “Didn’t she tell you? Your grandmother has been ordering those packages for weeks now. She’s addicted to that Donna crap. And the worst part? Your mom has been footing the bill as Vesta doesn’t have a credit card. Marge told me she’s up to five grand now.”

  Odelia’s jaw dropped. “Five grand!”

  “Yeah, for a bunch of useless stuff. According to Marge she even bought one of those steamers for her, um, well, you know what.”

  Odelia frowned. “A vegetable steamer?”

  Uncle Alec suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Not exactly. She uses it on her… business.”

  “Her business?”

  He heaved an exasperated groan. “Her lady parts, all right?”

  Odelia smiled. “She bought a vaginal steamer?” Uncle Alec grumbled something under his breath as he stalked off. She hurried to keep up with him. “No wonder Mom is mad. That stuff must cost a fortune.”

  “And it’s not as if she needs it,” said her uncle. “I mean, she’s seventy-five, for crying out loud. What does she need a vaginal steamer for?”

  “Well, she does have a very active sex life.”

  Uncle Alec winced. He directed a pleading look at his niece. “Please, Odelia. I don’t need to hear all that.”

  Which was probably why Mom had allowed this buying frenzy to go on as long as it had. Nobody wanted to sit down with Gran and have a serious conversation about her sex life. It wasn’t a topic one simply launched into.

  “I’ll talk to Gran,” she promised. “Tell her to ease up on the spending.”

  “You do that,” her uncle grumbled.

  They walked into the house and Odelia admired her surroundings. Donna Bruce had taste, that much was obvious. The foyer had a homey feel, with its hardwood floors, soft pink wallpaper and white lacquered furniture. And as they progressed into the living room and then the kitchen, she had to admit she wouldn’t mind living in a place like this. Selling jade eggs and vaginal steamers had obviously been very lucrative for the founder of donna.vip.

  They reached the spa area, where a small indoor pool awaited them, along with the sauna cabin where Donna’s housekeeper had found the body of her employer that morning.

  “You better prepare yourself for a shock,” said Uncle Alec. “It’s not a pretty sight.”

  She braced herself and stepped into the sauna. Donna Bruce was lying on the floor, partly covered by a towel, her face swollen beyond recognition. Every part of her body that was visible had suffered the same fate. The woman had literally been stung to death.

  She swallowed. “How—how did they get the bees in here?”

  Uncle Alec gestured at the fan that was placed in the ceiling. “They reversed the airflow and placed an entire batch of bees on top of it. The little beasties must have been pretty pissed off when they were propelled past the fan’s blades and into this extremely hot environment. They simply attacked the first thing they came into contact with. Which was Donna Bruce.”

  “I’m guessing she died from anaphylactic shock,” said the coroner, who was standing in a corner, picking up the body of a dead bee and dumping it into a plastic baggie. Abe Cornwall was a shabbily-dressed man with frizzy gray hair but he was an ace medical examiner. “Though judging from the state of the body, she might have die
d from the venom itself. She must have sustained thousands of stings in a matter of minutes.”

  “This entire cabin was full of bees when the housekeeper arrived,” Uncle Alec explained. “Thousands and thousands of them.”

  “And there’s no question whether this was an accident or not?” asked Odelia.

  “No way,” another male voice spoke.

  She turned around with a smile, and got a small shock of pleasure when she found herself gazing into the gold-flecked chocolate eyes of Chase Kingsley. He filled the entire doorframe with his muscular physique, and the cabin with his powerful presence. “So it was definitely murder, huh?”

  “Definitely,” said Chase with a smile of greeting.

  “I’ll let you two kids come up with a theory as to who’s responsible,” said Uncle Alec. “I have to talk to the ex-husband about what to do with the kids.”

  “The kids?” asked Odelia.

  “Yeah.” Uncle Alec frowned at his notebook. “Sweetums and Honeychild. Good thing they weren’t here when it happened.”

  “Oh, those poor babies,” said Odelia.

  “Big babies,” said Uncle Alec. “Sweetums and Honeychild are six.” He shook his head. “Who gives their kid a name like that?”

  “Donna Bruce,” said Chase, staring down at the victim. He glanced up at the chief. “So am I in charge of this thing, Chief?”

  “Yes, you are,” said Chief Alec. “Along with Odelia—in an entirely unofficial capacity, of course.”

  Chase gave her a grin. “Looks like the gang is back together, babe.”

  She returned his smile. “Yay.”

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  ABOUT NIC

  Nic Saint is the pen name for writing couple Nick and Nicole Saint. They’ve penned 60+ novels in the romance, cat sleuth, middle grade, suspense, comedy and cozy mystery genres. Nicole has a background in accounting and Nick in political science and before being struck by the writing bug the Saints worked odd jobs around the world (including massage therapist in Mexico, gardener in Italy, restaurant manager in India, and Berlitz teacher in Belgium).