Purrfect Cover (The Mysteries of Max Book 25) by Nic Saint

Author:Nic Saint [Saint, Nic]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Puss in Print Publications
Published: 2020-08-18T22:00:00+00:00

Marge was still smiling when she thought back to the cats and their heroic fight with the Roomba. She should have been upset that they managed to destroy the thing, but she wasn’t. The Roomba wasn’t a real Roomba but a cheap knockoff she’d found in a store off Main Street and had bought for a bargain. Odelia had suggested getting it fixed but she thought that was probably not a good idea. If the cats had destroyed it once, they would probably do it again. Besides, the poor darlings were clearly terrified of the machine.

And as she walked into the bedroom, much to her surprise she found her husband seated on the bed, a beatific smile on his face and apparently staring off into space.

“Hey, honey. Boy, do you look happy.”

Tex seemed to wake up as if from a dream. “Mh?”

“I said that you look happy.”

“Oh, it’s because I finally found the perfect place to put my Metzgall.”

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees as Marge’s mood plummeted. She hated that Metzgall with a vengeance. Tex had paid twenty-five thousand bucks for it, claiming it was the perfect investment, and a bargain at that price. She’d wanted to throttle him when she found out what he’d done with their hard-earned savings: spent it on an ugly painting of a hideous troll.

Sometimes she didn’t understand her husband. Really she did not.

And it was when she closed the bedroom door and discovered that the painting of the troll was hanging on the wall behind the door that she yelped in horror and surprise.

“What the…” she said, staring at the thing. So that’s what Tex had been looking at.

“I saw it in a documentary,” said her husband, sounding proud of himself. “Thieves will never find it, as the bedroom door is always open except at night, and we can still enjoy it by simply closing the door and looking at it from the bed.”

Marge stared at her husband. “You want me to look at that thing from the bed? Are you nuts? I’ll have nightmares knowing that gnome is staring at us all night.”

Tex’s smile faltered. “You don’t like it? It is a real Metzgall.”

“When did I ever give you the impression that I like that horrible thing?” she said, her voice rising both in pitch and volume. “I hate it. I want you to give it back to this Metzgaff guy.”

“Metzgall,” Tex corrected her. “And I don’t think he’ll take it back.”

“I don’t care! It’s revolting to look at and I want it gone. Out of my sight!”

“All right, all right,” said Tex, getting up from his perch on the foot of the bed. “Where do you want me to put it? The basement is too humid, the attic too dusty, the kitchen too smelly, and in the living room it’s going to attract too much unwanted attention.”

“Put it in the garden shed,” she suggested.

“But honey!”

“Or bury it for all I care. I want it gone—out of my life—gone,

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