“So when are you moving back?” asked Alec.

  “Let me sleep on it a couple nights. I’ll let you know.”

  And with these words she was off at a surprisingly quick pace.

  Marge leaned back. “I swear to God, Alec, if she doesn’t move back here this week you have my permission to bodily drag her over and handcuff her to the bed.”

  Alec grinned. “I’ll bet by now she watched plenty of YouTube videos on how to get out of those handcuffs. That mother of ours is one tough old goat, hon.”

  “And don’t I know it,” Marge sighed.

  Chapter 49

  It had been an eventful day, so I was glad to be home again. Gran was out, and so were Odelia and the rest of the family, but when we arrived at the house Milo was ensconced on the couch as if he owned the place—which by now he probably thought he did—so I decided it was time for a heart-to-heart with our annoying visitor.

  “Where have you been?” he asked when I trotted in through the pet door.

  “Your former home,” I said, and watched his response.

  A slight smile slid up his face. “Slumming, have you?”

  “Why did you send Brutus to the pound?” I asked.

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “You wanted to show him what it was really like, didn’t you?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “How did you end up there?”

  He shrugged. “I merely was part of the entertainment. The all-star band to entertain the inmates. Like Elvis Presley with his Jailhouse Rock.”

  “Oh, don’t give me that crap, Milo,” I said. “You may fool others but you don’t fool me.”

  He gave me a quick sideways look. “No, I guess I can’t.” He paused, seeming to think things through, then finally relented. “Fine. I was part of a litter of five. All of us were relegated to the pound, along with our mother. Punishment for her human’s stupidity, I guess. What human doesn’t understand that cats have a tendency to get pregnant? At any rate, I spent a good chunk of time down there, watching my brothers and sisters be doled out to deserving new owners, as well as my own mother. Finally my time came and I ended up with Aloisia and I was glad for it.”

  “She treats you well?”

  “I can’t complain. Only problem is that she doesn’t allow me to go outside.”

  “That’s not very nice.”

  “It’s her way of protecting me. In fact this vacation at Odelia’s is the first time I’ve been allowed out for years. And it’s been a lot of fun.”

  “Why do you keep spreading lies and setting cats up against each other?”

  His mouth closed with a click of his incisors. “I’m not sure I like your tone, Max.”

  “I know you don’t, but I still want you to answer me.”

  He glared at me for a moment. “You’re way too smart for your own good.”

  “Is it because you developed lying as a coping mechanism at the pound?”

  “And now you lost me, Mr. Amateur Shrink.”

  “I think it is. I think you learned to survive by creating trouble amongst the others—anything so they wouldn’t notice what you were up to. Did you steal their food when they weren’t looking? Drink their milk when they were fighting amongst themselves?”

  Milo laughed. “You think they serve milk in there? You are so naive, Max.”

  I studied him for a moment. “What if I convinced Odelia to talk to Aloisia? Tell her to give you more freedom? Install a pet door, just like the one we have? That way you wouldn’t be confined to the house. You could even come and visit. Go to cat choir. Be free.”

  He was regarding me suspiciously, as if trying to detect either a flaw in my reasoning or duplicity in my offer. He must have realized I wasn’t kidding, for he finally said, “Why would you do this for me, Max? I haven’t exactly been very nice to you or the others.”

  “I don’t think you’re a bad cat, Milo. In fact I think deep down you’re a decent one.”

  “You don’t know me very well, do you?”

  I shrugged. “I guess I don’t. But I’m willing to take a chance on you. Are you willing to take a chance on me?”

  For the first time since I’d made Milo’s acquaintance he was speechless. Finally, he said, with a lump in his throat. “I know I’ll probably regret this but… I am, Max.”

  “Great. That’s settled then.” I held up my paw. “Put it there, ‘bro.’”

  After a moment’s hesitation, he did put it there, and we shook paws on it.

  Just then, the others walked in. “Hey, did you hear about Kit Katt & Koh, Milo?” asked Dooley.

  “No, what happened?” asked Milo.

  “Only that Kit Katt likes to kick cats for a living.”

  “She doesn’t kick cats for a living, Dooley,” Brutus. “She was clearly drunk.”

  “Drink brings out the inner you, Brutus,” said Harriet. “So she’s a cat hater.”

  “That’s not necessarily true,” said Brutus. “And I don’t think she hates cats.”

  And as the others chattered on, I saw that Milo was quietly smiling to himself. We locked eyes for a moment, and he gave me a nod of understanding. ‘Thanks, Max,’ he mouthed silently, and I mouthed back, ‘You’re welcome.’

  Epilogue

  Tex was watching on as Chase expertly turned the burger patties on the grill. I think everybody was happy Tex wasn’t in charge of the proceedings. Dr. Tex may know his way around a human gallbladder, but he can’t grill a burger if his life depended on it. Somehow they always end up looking like charred coal, which apparently humans don’t enjoy.

  I know I don’t like to eat my food charred into oblivion, but then I’m a cat, and I like my food raw and bloody. Others, like our good friend Clarice, a feral cat, like to eat their food while it’s still breathing, but then Clarice has always been something of an extremist.

  After the great upheaval, life in Hampton Cove had gradually returned to normal. Dickerson’s killers were in jail, Netflix had put Kit Katt & Koh on hiatus while its star went into rehab, and an anonymous benefactor had launched a campaign to offer all of the pets at the local pound new homes. Rumor had it that benefactor was Brenda Berish.

  I told you. Once people fall in love with cats they become fans for life.

  A row of cats was now lined up on Marge and Tex’s patio: me, Dooley, Harriet, Brutus and… Milo. Over the last couple of days the erstwhile terror had settled down and was starting to become almost like a regular feline. He still had a ways to go, though, considering that just that morning he’d convinced Dooley that if you pull a cat’s tail really hard a nugget of gold drops out of its mouth. Ever since then Dooley has been telling Odelia to pull his tail so she can become a millionairess.

  “So what’s happening with Tracy?” asked Marge as the entire family convened around the table. “When is she going to join us?”

  “Soon,” Uncle Alec promised with a smile. And when Marge tried to heap a pile of fries onto his plate he quickly declined. “I’m trying to lose weight,” he announced, patting his ominously large stomach fondly.

  Odelia cocked an eyebrow. “Is this Tracy’s doing? If so, I like her even more.”

  “That woman is such an avid hiker that if I hope to stand a chance keeping up I need to lose at least thirty pounds. At one point she said she thought there was something wrong with her ears as she kept hearing this strange thumping sound. I didn’t have the nerve to tell her that was my heart beating so fast I thought it would pop out through my throat.”

  “I think it’s great that you’ve decided to take better care of yourself,” said Marge.

  “And I think this Tracy is one overbearing female,” said Grandma. “I mean, look at you, Alec. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Alec muttered, munching down on a piece of lettuce.

  “A real man got heft,” Gran continued. “Nobody likes a skeleton.”

  Chase joined the others, placing a plate of perfectly grilled patties on the table. Tex, holding onto a bottle of beer, held it up in a salute. “I want to congratulate the law enforcement members of this family on a job well done. You, too, Odelia.”

  “Thanks,” said Odelia. “I think it’s all very sad, though.”

  “It is,” her mother agreed.

  Tex had brought out the small television he’d recently purchased and they watched for a moment as President Wilcox laid a wreath on a grave, then held his hand to his chest while the National Anthem sounded.

  “Why did you write that the President is the Sexiest President Alive, Odelia?” asked Marge. “I don’t think he’s that sexy.”

  “I have a great new source,” said Odelia. “He keeps calling me with all kinds of exclusive scoops.” Just then, her phone sang out a song and she picked it out. “Oh, look, it’s him. My source.” She picked up. “Yes, hi, Mr. Paunch. Thank you. Yes, I thought it was a lovely article, too. Especially that bit about the President being voted Best Dressed Politician by the White House Correspondents’ Association. Yes, I think he’s a very natty dresser, too.”

  She’d switched her phone to speaker, so we could all listen in to her exclusive source. His voice sounded awfully familiar, though. As if I’d heard this Mr. Paunch before somewhere.

  “And Odelia,” Mr. Paunch was saying, “this is a real scoop for you right here. President Wilcox has just been informed that he’s a shoo-in for an actual Nobel Prize!”

  “Wow, that’s amazing,” said Odelia, her eyes gleaming. “A real Nobel Peace Prize.”

  “Not just the Peace Prize. He’s getting the Nobel Prize for Literature, too.”

  “Literature? I didn’t know the President was a writer?”

  “Oh, sure. He’s only one of the best writers in the world. Bestselling writer.”

  “What… books did he write?” asked Odelia, clearly confused.

  “Oh, you name it, he wrote it. Amazing, huh? I thought you’d be impressed.”

  Odelia looked up when her mother was pointing at the screen, where the President of the United States was talking on the phone now. And as he talked, it quickly became clear that his lips were forming the exact words that were coming out of Odelia’s phone.

  Otto Paunch… was President Wilcox!

  “Oh, and another little scoop. My good friend Van Wilcox is also in line to join the ranks of EGOT winners. That’s an Emmy, Grammy, Oscar and a Tony! He’s the first President in history to pull off such a hat trick. Amazing, huh? Yeah, he is a great man. In fact he’s the greatest man in a long line of great men. The greatest great, you might say. So how abou—”

  Odelia switched off her phone, gazing dazedly at the screen, where President Wilcox could be seen shouting into his phone, then looking annoyedly at the little gadget, before tucking it away again and shaking his head at so much insolence.

  “I think… I’ve just been played,” said Odelia uncertainly.

  “Don’t worry, honey,” said Grandma, patting her on the arm. “We’ve all been there.”

  “And here I thought you were the nymphomaniac,” Dooley told Milo.

  “Mythomaniac, Dooley,” Harriet was quick to correct him.

  Even Milo could see the humor in that, for he laughed loudly.

  “How about another burger?” said Tex, breaking the embarrassed silence that had descended upon the company. “I’ll do the honors, shall I?”

  “No!” Marge shouted before Tex reached the grill.

  Chase, who’d turned off the TV, took over from the doctor, and soon the party was in full swing again.

  Milo drifted off in the direction of Grandma, who was now feeding him pieces of burger and even bits of coleslaw. Harriet and Brutus had snuck off into the garden next door, where they planned to make good use of those hills and valleys Gran had created, and then it was just me and Dooley.

  “Milo seems fine, doesn’t he?” said Dooley. “He hasn’t told a lie all day.”

  “Except for the part about pulling your tail,” I reminded my friend.

  “The jury is still out on that one,” said Dooley. “No one has pulled my tail so he could be right.”

  I pulled Dooley’s tail, hard, and he yelped in surprise. “See?” I said. “No gold.”

  He eyed me sheepishly and rubbed his tail. “I really hoped he was right.”

  “Maybe I didn’t pull hard enough,” I said, and made to pull again.

  “No! I believe you,” he said quickly.

  “At least spitting out nuggets of gold beats scooting your poop across the carpet.”

  “I think we all learned a valuable lesson, Max.”

  “Which is?”

  “If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”

  I looked at Dooley, surprised. “Those are regular words of wisdom, buddy.”

  “I read that on Odelia’s calendar.”

  Of course he did.

  “You know? If Milo went into politics, he could be one of the greats,” said Dooley.

  And so he could. But fortunately for humans Milo is a cat, and cats aren’t eligible to go into politics and lead countries. Then again, maybe if they were, the world would be a better place. No politician licking his own butt in the middle of a speech would ever be able to be taken seriously when declaring war on another nation or making budget cuts and lowering pensions. And no stump speech would go over well if the one giving the speech suddenly yawned in the middle of a sentence, stretched and promptly fell asleep.

  But wouldn’t it be fun to watch the video on YouTube?

  THE END

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  Excerpt from Murder Motel (The Kellys Book 1)

  Chapter One

  The car was moving along at a snail’s pace. The snow was coming down hard now, and the freeway had become practically impossible to navigate. Tom Kelly was still determined to soldier on, though, in spite of the warnings from his family. He’d promised Dee and the kids he’d get them to Cincinnati safe and sound and he’d be damned if he was going to fail them.

  “Honey, you have to pull over,” his wife was saying, repeating the same mantra she’d stuck to for the past ten miles. “It’s not safe to be out in this weather!”

  “Yeah, Dad, quit trying to act like you’re Liam Neeson in Taken 4: The Snow Apocalypse,” said his son Scott. At twelve, Scott rarely took his eyes off his iPhone, and the fact that he hadn’t even glimpsed at the thing since this deluge began was a testament to how bad the weather had become.

  “Isn’t there a motel where we can stay until the storm blows over?” Maya asked. She was petting the Kellys’ Goldendoodle Ralph, who was howling like a wolf, his nose in the air.

  “I think he needs to pee,” said Dee. “And as a matter of fact so do I.”

  “We’ll pee when we get there,” said Tom, his face practically plastered to the windshield now, hunched over the wheel and praying he wouldn’t hit something.

  “I’m not going to pee when I get there, Tom. I’m going to pee now,” his wife insisted.

  It was just a trick to get him to pull over, he knew. They’d stopped less than an hour ago, and he hadn’t seen her drink anything so it was physically impossible for her bladder to be full already. The dog was another matter entirely. If he had to go, he had to go, and if he wasn’t able to keep it in, he’d let it out on the back seat of the car, which, since it was a rental, he didn’t advocate.

  “All right, all right, all right,” he grumbled.

  At forty-eight Tom Kelly, or Professor Kelly to his economics students back at the University of Washington, looked younger than his years, with his floppy brown hair, square chin and engaging smile. He wasn’t smiling now, though, more like trying to keep it together, his fingers gripping the wheel until they were white at the knuckles and fervently praying the weather gods would show them some much-needed clemency. “What does the weather forecast say?” he asked for the umpteenth time. “Scott?”

  “Sorry, Dad,” Scott said. “No reception. Must be the storm.”

  Which would explain why his son had suddenly lost interest in his precious phone.

  “There!” said Dee, pointing to some to-him-invisible spot in the distance.

  “There what?” he asked, struggling to remain calm and poised.

  “Don’t you see the sign? There’s a motel up ahead.”

  “How far?” asked Maya, nervously shuffling in her seat.

  “No idea. Must be close, though, right? Otherwise why put up a sign?”

  Tom quickly glanced back to the dog, who was still howling at regular intervals. “Maybe we should stop now? Give him a chance to lift his hind leg against a tree?”

  “And freeze his tush off? No way, Dad,” said Maya, who was Ralph’s biggest fan. The feeling was mutual, because Ralph now shoved his wet nose into Maya’s neck, causing her to giggle. “Stop it, you big hairy goofball,” she said, playfully pushing the dog away.

  At seventeen, Maya was the spitting image of her mother: willowy, blond and absolutely stunning, with her mother’s striking green, gold-flecked eyes.

  “Dad? I got some bad news,” said Scott.

  “What is it?” Tom asked. He thought he’d reached his quota of bad news for the day.

  “Is it the baby?” asked Dee, panic making her voice squeaky. “Is something wrong with the baby?”

  “Jacob’s fine,” said Scott, patting the baby carrier. “Sleeping like a log. Thing is, I gotta pee, too, Dad, and I don’t think I can hold it in until Cincinnati, wherever Cincinnati is.”

  “I told you not to drink so much soda,” said his sister. “You’re like a camel when you see a can of soda.”

 

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