The Mysteries of Max: Books 31-33 Nic Saint (kiss me liar novel english .TXT) 📖

human, as we personally had decided to skip the wedding, even though at a later stage Gran had arranged a safe spot for us, where we wouldn’t be trampled underfoot by the masses.

“I wanted to come to the wedding,” said Harriet. “Vesta had arranged with Father Reilly that we could sit out in front, right next to the altar. And I was really looking forward to having the place of honor, you know. To have a front-row seat to the thing.”

To be perfectly honest Harriet hadn’t been all that excited. Even seated out in front she’d been afraid someone was going to step on her precious tail and reduce it to mush, and frankly so had I.

Shanille stared at Harriet, her jaw having dropped a few inches. “Father Reilly did what?”

“He said we could sit out in front,” Harriet repeated, unaware of Shanille’s consternation, or maybe extremely aware and eager to rub it in. “Next to the altar?”

“But that’s my spot!” said Shanille. “I always sit out in front during Mass. Everybody knows that that spot is reserved for Father Reilly’s cat, and I’m Father Reilly’s cat. Not you,” she added, pressing a paw into Harriet’s chest. “Me!”

“Please take your paws off me,” said Harriet, who’s very particular when it comes to her precious fur being soiled by the paws of other cats—or human hands for that matter. Well, she has a point, of course. Who knows where those paws or hands have been, right?

“You’re lying,” said Shanille.

“No, I’m not. Vesta said we could sit right next to the altar.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Yes, she did!”

“No, she. Did. Not,” said Shanille, accentuating every word with another jab in Harriet’s chest.

Harriet pressed her lips together, and I could see that something was bubbling underneath the surface. Like a volcano, this particular cat was about to explode. I would have warned Shanille, but something told me she was beyond being reasoned with.

“If you touch me one more time…” Harriet began.

“Then what?”

“I will scratch you,” said Harriet simply.

Shanille laughed a throaty laugh. “You’ll do no such thing. I’m the leader of cat choir. If you scratch me, you’re out for good.”

“I swear to God, Shanille, you do not want to see me angry,” said Harriet, in the tone she likes to adopt when she’s about to skin a person alive and boil their remains.

“I’ll do whatever I want,” said Shanille, and gave my friend a shove that landed her on her tush.

“Oh, no, you didn’t,” said Harriet, and then, with a low growl, she hauled off and… actually gave Shanille’s snoot a light tap!

“Hey!” said Shanille, looking stunned.

“I warned you. You do not put your filthy paws on me.”

“Dooley,” I said, “I think I just saw that stork.”

“You did? Where?!” he said excitedly.

“Come, I’ll show you,” I told him curtly, and walked off with my friend. And even as we removed ourselves from the scene, I could hear the telltale sounds of a cat fight breaking out: the caterwauling, the screeching, and the fur being ripped to shreds.

“Poor Shanille,” said Dooley. “She was really looking forward to that wedding, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, I guess she was,” I said.

“So where’s the stork?” he said happily as he glanced around, then up at the trees and the night sky above, regarding those twinkling stars and that full moon with an expectant look in his eyes.

“Well…” I said as we paused at a nearby tree and I gave it a pointed look. “This is just the darndest thing. I’m sure I saw it sitting in this very tree just moments ago.”

“But… it’s not there anymore, Max.”

“No, I can see that. Why, shoot. Looks like we missed it.”

“Oh, darn,” said Dooley. “Now Odelia will have to wait a little longer for her firstborn.”

“Yeah, I guess she will,” I said. And as we walked on, I decided that cat choir was probably a bust, so we decided to head on home instead. And as we exited the park, and found ourselves out on the sidewalk, suddenly a familiar car drew to a stop at the curb, and the window rolled down.

“I caught a killer you guys!” Gran yelled from the car. “I caught my very first killer—all by my lonesome!”

“Not by your lonesome,” Scarlett corrected her friend’s rash statement. “I was right there with you, remember? We both caught him.”

“You caught a killer, Gran?” asked Dooley, admiration dripping from his words. “How did you do that?”

“Well, we just happened to be parked outside a known crack house, and we were about to go in and make a bust when this guy comes out, looking suspicious.”

“Very suspicious” Scarlett confirmed.

“He hopped into his car, and I managed to take a picture of the guy and the car.” She glanced down at a little notebook she always keeps handy when she’s on her nightly patrols. “Guy by the name of Joshua Curtis. Dolores looked up the license plate for me.”

“Joshua Curtis!” said Dooley. “But that’s Odelia’s client!”

“Odelia’s what?” asked Gran, much surprised.

“Odelia took on a client this morning,” I explained. “Unofficially, of course. Something about an infidelity case he wanted her to check out.”

Gran blinked and shared a look of consternation with her friend. “Well, looks like Odelia’s client just went and killed three people.”

Chapter 8

When the calls came in Odelia and Chase were seated side by side on the couch, Netflixing a romcom and enjoying this time together in post-wedding bliss. She still wasn’t completely used to the fact that she was now Mrs. Chase Kingsley, and that she was a married woman.

“Do you want another home-baked muffin, husband?” she asked.

“I would love one, wife,” said Chase with a grin. “Though to be absolutely honest, if I eat another one I’ll probably burst.”

“Me too,” Odelia admitted. “Though they did come out pretty great, husband.”

“I know, right?”

She settled herself against Chase, and purred, “When I married you I didn’t know I was marrying a baking prodigy… husband.”

“Beginner’s luck. I bet that when I try that second batch they’ll probably come out horrible.”

“Now,