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

“Anyway, so I wanted to ask you about last night’s fire.”

“Uh-huh. Shoot.”

“So you got the call, right?”

“I got three calls, in fact.”

“Three calls?”

“Sure. Just lemme check.” She tapped a few keys on her computer. “Here we go. So the first call came in at eleven forty-eight, okay?”

“Who made the call?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t give me a name. Said they wanted to report a fire on Parker Street. Then the second caller didn’t give me his name either. This was at eleven fifty. And then a minute later your grandmother called in.”

“Okay.”

Dolores took off her reading glasses. “So the second caller sounded kinda winded, as if he was walking and talking. And of course we now know that the second caller was Curtis, as he was calling from his own phone, the dumbass.” When Odelia gave her a look, she added, “You have to be pretty dumb to call in your own crime from your own phone, Odelia!”

“Unless he didn’t do it.”

“Yeah, right. So the only thing that struck me as odd is that the Dibbles didn’t call in.”

“The Dibbles? Who are they?”

“Bart and Vanda Dibble. They’re neighbors. They live right across the street. They’re usually the first to call when something happens at Parker Street 51. In fact they’ve called in so many times I’ve considered blocking their number.”

“You wouldn’t do that, right?”

“Nah, I’m not allowed. Unfortunately.”

“What do they usually call about, these Dibbles?”

“Oh, the usual, you know. Noise complaints. Parties happening late at night, drug dealing, and of course the fact that the building was the home of a bunch of squatters, which they said was bringing down property prices and the value of their own home.”

“They’re probably right.”

“Oh, sure. But they don’t have to call and tell me about it every single day, do they? Besides, it’s not as if I can help it that the owner of the building has decided to let it get run down like that. We informed the town council, and they promised to look into it.”

“Looks like the Dibbles finally got what they wanted,” said Odelia. “That building will probably have to be demolished now.” She gave the other woman a quick hug. “Thanks so much, Dolores. You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go on, get out of here.” She then glanced down at Dooley and myself. “And you too, Humpty and Dumpty. Get lost. I don’t need a couple of cat spies on my ass all day.”

And as we walked off, I said, “She spotted us, Dooley. I didn’t think she’d spot us.”

“Why did she call us Humpty and Dumpty, Max?” asked Dooley as we left the precinct in Odelia’s wake.

“We really need to work on our stealth mode. I can’t believe she saw us.”

“So who are you, Max? Humpty or Dumpty?”

“I dunno,” I muttered, still wondering how Dolores had spotted us. I prided myself in the way I could surreptitiously spy on people, only now I’d been found out two times in a row: first by Uncle Alec, though that was entirely Dooley’s fault, of course, and once by Dolores, and in this last case I had nobody to blame but myself.

“I think I’m Humpty, Max,” said Dooley. “And you’re Dumpty.”

“Sure, Dooley,” I said. “Whatever you say, buddy.”

Chapter 17

Odelia and her two feline detectives had arrived at the place where Melanie Myers lived with her husband. She’d first tried to find her at work, at wefindyourdreamhomeforyou.com, but one of her colleagues said that Melanie had called in sick. Odelia hoped she wasn’t too sick to talk to her, though.

The house was a nice modest family home with a single garage in a neighborhood of similar family homes. It was one of those neighborhoods where not too many cars drive through, and where kids can take their bikes out and play on the street. Two little boys were doing that in front of the Myers house, and Odelia wondered if they were Melanie’s. Joshua hadn’t mentioned any kids, but then Joshua hadn’t exactly been forthcoming.

She walked up to the house and pressed her finger on the buzzer. A pleasant jangling sound echoed inside, and before long she heard footsteps and the door was opened.

“Yes?” said Melanie Myers, looking a lot plainer than she’d looked the day before. Gone was the makeup, and gone was the nice suit she’d worn—probably office attire. She was plainly dressed in jeans and a T-shirt now, and her hair was done up into a messy bun.

“Melanie Myers?” asked Odelia.

“Yes, who’s asking?”

“My name is Odelia Poole, and a friend of yours asked me to help him out with something. Joshua Curtis? I believe you know him?”

“Yes, I know Joshua,” said Melanie.

“Can I come in for a moment? It’s a delicate matter.”

Melanie considered this, then glanced down and caught sight of Max and Dooley, or Humpty and Dumpty as they now called themselves. “Oh, how cute!” Melanie exclaimed, immediately crouching down and tickling both cats under their chins. The purring sounds made it obvious they weren’t averse to her ministrations. “Are they yours?”

“Yeah. Yeah, they are. They like to follow me around, as strange as that may sound.”

“Oh, no, mine are just the same,” said Melanie. “If I’d let them they’d follow me to the office and lie next to my desk all day. Unfortunately my boss hates cats. She thinks it’s unprofessional and makes a bad impression on the clients.” She rolled expressive eyes. “As if cats could ever make a bad impression on anyone. I’d say they’re an ice breaker.”

Well, they’d certainly broken the ice now, Odelia thought as she stepped inside the house and closed the door behind her.

Two cats came walking up to her, meowing all the while. They were very small, even smaller than Dooley, and were clearly purebreds. So she left Dooley and Max to deal with them, and maybe extract some more information, and followed Melanie into the living room.

“Please take a seat,” said Melanie, indicating a beige leather couch on which crocheted covers had