Purrfect Christmas: The Mysteries of Max 63 by Saint Nic

Author:Saint, Nic
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Puss in Books
Published: 2023-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 27

Odelia and Chase had just sat down for dinner when the call came. They’d both had a long day at the office, Odelia finishing an article on the Christmas store bonanza, and Chase dealing with the hold-up of a liquor store, and once they put Grace to bed had started preparing dinner.

The four of us had returned from Scarlett’s with Gran, and had been resting peacefully next to our own Christmas tree, even though I had to admit that Scarlett’s tree was a lot bigger and a lot more impressive. But then Scarlett probably had more time to spend on selecting ornaments and decorating her tree than our humans, who both worked full-time and also had a little girl to take care of—not to mention no less than four cats.

I opened one lazy eye when the phone rang, and when Chase picked up and said, “I’ll be there right away,” I yawned and said, “Sounds like an emergency, you guys.”

“I’m not going out in this weather,” said Harriet. “No way.”

She had even decided to skip cat choir, which was a first for her. But she was right. It had started snowing again, so it was no time to head out again.

But Odelia had different ideas. “Let’s go, you guys,” she told us.

“Go where?” asked Brutus, lifting his head.

“There’s been a murder,” she announced as she grabbed her own phone.

“Murder?” asked Dooley. “Who’s been murdered?” Then his eyes went wide. “Oh, no—not Santa!”

But Odelia was too busy calling her mom and asking her to keep an eye on Grace to answer our questions. Instead she walked out the door, her ear pressed to her phone, trying to put on her coat with one hand, assisted by her husband, who was also still on the phone, presumably with Odelia’s uncle, getting more information about the case.

Five minutes later we were all piling into Chase’s squad car, still sleepy and not very happy to have to tear ourselves away from our cozy warm place under the tree. But duty called, even though we didn’t like it very much!

“So who’s the victim?” I asked finally.

“Chris Nicholson,” Odelia said.

“Oh, no!” said Dooley.

“Obviously Laura did it,” said Harriet.

“How do you reckon that?” asked Brutus.

“Isn’t it obvious? What are the odds of a woman having two husbands die on her in the space of a decade? Nil.”

“She wasn’t married to Chris,” I reminded her. “They were engaged.”

“Same difference. A woman’s husband is murdered, and then ten years later her fiancé is murdered. Arrest the woman and she’ll confess that she’s one of those black widow killers.”

“What is a black widow killer, Harriet?” asked Dooley.

“A woman who can’t stop murdering her husbands.”

“I very much doubt whether Laura is a black widow killer,” I protested. “She’s a very nice person.”

“Most killers are perfectly nice people,” said Harriet. “Until they go out and murder someone.”

It was obvious that her mind was made up, and frankly I thought she might have a point. In a lot of murder cases the police first look at the spouse or partner, and often they’re right.

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