She’d placed the box on the kitchen counter and took out the first kitten. It was a ginger specimen, with little white dots, and mewled piteously.
I could tell that Odelia’s heart melted even more, for she started making weird sounds herself now. “Googoogagagoogoo,” she said. “Booboobeebeebooboo.”
I rolled my eyes. Humans tend to lose their heads when they see a kitten. Of course this fatal appeal is exactly the reason our species has endured and has been adopted into the home of no less than one out of three American families: we know how to entice.
“Googoodoodooweeweewoowoo,” Odelia said.
The kitten, which had been wriggling, suddenly focused its tiny eyes on Odelia, then produced its first real meow. Gibberish, of course, but still a sign of recognition. Cat, meet cat lady. Cat lady, meet cat.
Odelia laughed. “Hello there, little one. So who put you in a box and left you on my doorstep, huh?”
The kitten meowed some more, then licked its lips. It started looking around, and I could tell it was already adapting to its new home. Uh-oh. It was wriggling and squirming.
“You want to explore my home?” asked Odelia.
I could have told her this was a bad idea, but she was already putting the kitten down and we both watched as it hobbled off at an awkward and unbalanced gait towards the first potted plant it could find. It then climbed into the terracotta pot and relieved itself.
And Odelia, instead of rectifying this behavior with word and gesture, laughed!
She now picked up the two other kittens and cuddled them, rocking them in her arms. One was a velvety black and the third one pure white.
“Oh, you sweet little cuties,” Odelia cooed. “Sweet sweeties. Did your mama leave you? Couldn’t she take care of you? Don’t you worry about a thing. Odelia is here and she’s going to make sure nothing bad happens to you.” And then she googoogaga’d some more.
I could sense that smarter heads needed to prevail here, so I addressed Kitten Number One, the whizz kid.
“Hey, you,” I said, inserting a note of steel into my voice.
The kitten didn’t even look up from sniffing at its own wee.
“Don’t pretend you can’t hear me. I know you can.”
The kitten finally looked up, opening its mouth and mewling questioningly.
“There are rules in this house,” I said. “And you’d better follow them or else.”
It was mewling softly now, opening and closing its little mouth.
“Or else what, you ask? Or else I’ll tan your tiny little hide, that’s what.”
“Max!” Odelia cried behind me. “That’s no way to speak to our new guests.”
“But—”
“Apologize.”
I must admit my jaw had dropped at these harsh words from one I’d always known to be in my corner. The kitten fever had clearly taken a hold of my human, and had altered her personality to such an extent she was now a different human altogether.
“I’m sorry,” I told the kitten begrudgingly.
“And now say it like you mean it,” said Odelia.
“Okay, I’m sorry, all right!” I cried, then stalked off. Or at least I started stalking off, but then my tail got snagged in some immovable object and my progress was halted. When I abruptly swung my head around to see what had snagged me, I saw that it was the kitten, which had planted itself firmly astride my tail and was now playing with the tail’s tail end, which invariably tends to sway as if possessing a mind of its own.
“Stop that,” I snapped, but the kitten seemed to enjoy the swishing movement so much it kept grabbing at my fluffy appendage.
“Max,” said Odelia warningly.
“Stop that, please?” I asked.
But then the kitten suddenly dug its teeth into my tail and I screamed, “Yikes!”
“Max!” Odelia said. “Don’t be rude!”
“But she just bit me in the tail!”
“She’s just playing,” she said, then picked up my little nemesis, and checked her. “So you think she’s a she?”
“Of course she’s a she. Don’t you think a cat can tell whether another cat is a he or a she?”
“Don’t be a smart-ass. Here,” she said, planting the other two kittens in front of me. “Tell me what they are.”
I scowled at the foul creatures, then pointed at the black one. “He,” I said. Then pointed at the white one. “He.”
She was rocking them in her arms now, even though they tried to squirm away.
My suggestion was Menace Number One, Menace Number Two and Menace Number Three, but something told me Odelia might not agree with my naming convention. So instead I said, “Why don’t you ask Gran? She named the rest of us.”
Odelia nodded. “Great idea. I’ll ask her.”
I didn’t know if this was such a good idea, for Gran has a habit of picking names from the soaps she watches. I was named after Max Halloran, a doctor on General Hospital who was accused of fathering triplets with his mother’s twin sister’s mobster fiancé’s younger sister’s best friend. And Dooley could trace the origin of his name to a casting director on The Bold and the Beautiful. Harriet, on the other hand, was named after Harriet the Spy, apparently a book Odelia’s mom had always liked.
Brutus, of course, had been named by Chase’s mom, his original owner. I have no idea what inspired her, but Brutus has always been a butch cat, so the name seemed apt.
The kittens, meanwhile, had managed to tumble back onto the kitchen counter, and were now digging their teeth into the carton box, ripping it into tiny pieces and spreading it across the floor like confetti.
I had to bite my tongue not to make a scathing remark about littering, but managed to restrain myself with a powerful effort. This was, after all, Odelia’s house, and if she felt like raising a trio of hell-raisers, that was her prerogative.
I vowed, however, that the moment she turned her back I was going to do some serious schooling of my own. I like to run a tight ship when she’s not around, and I intended to keep it that way.
Start Reading Purrfect Betrayal Now
About Nic
Nic Saint is the pen name for writing couple Nick and Nicole Saint. They’ve penned novels in the romance, cat sleuth, middle grade, suspense, comedy and cozy mystery genres. Nicole has a background in accounting and Nick in political science and before being struck by the writing bug the Saints worked odd jobs around the world (including massage therapist in Mexico, gardener in Italy, restaurant manager in India, and Berlitz teacher in Belgium).
When they’re not writing they enjoy Christmas-themed Hallmark movies (whether it’s Christmas or not), all manner of pastry, comic books, a daily dose of yoga (to limber up those limbs), and spoiling their big red tomcat Tommy.
www.nicsaint.com
Also by Nic Saint
The Mysteries of Max
Purrfect Murder
Purrfectly Deadly
Purrfect Revenge
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
Purrfect Heat
Purrfect Crime
Purrfect Rivalry
Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)
Purrfect Peril
Purrfect Secret
Purrfect Alibi
Box Set 3 (Books 7-9)
Purrfect Obsession
Purrfect Betrayal
Nora Steel
Murder Retreat
The Kellys
Murder Motel
Death in Suburbia
Emily Stone
Murder at the Art Class
First Shot
Alice Whitehouse
Spooky Times
Spooky Trills
Spooky End
Spooky Spells
Ghosts of London
Between a Ghost and a Spooky Place
Public Ghost Number
One
Ghost Save the Queen
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
A Tale of Two Harrys
Ghost of Girlband Past
Ghostlier Things
Charleneland
Deadly Ride
Final Ride
Neighborhood Witch Committee
Witchy Start
Witchy Worries
Witchy Wishes
Saffron Diffley
Crime and Retribution
Vice and Verdict
The B-Team
Once Upon a Spy
Tate-à-Tate
Enemy of the Tates
Ghosts vs. Spies
The Ghost Who Came in from the Cold
Witchy Fingers
Witchy Trouble
Witchy Hexations
Witchy Possessions
Witchy Riches
Box Set 1 (Books 1-4)
The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse
One Spoonful of Trouble
Two Scoops of Murder
Three Shots of Disaster
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
A Twist of Wraith
A Touch of Ghost
A Clash of Spooks
Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)
The Stuffing of Nightmares
A Breath of Dead Air
An Act of Hodd
Box Set 3 (Books 7-9)
A Game of Dons
Standalone Novels
When in Bruges
The Whiskered Spy
ThrillFix
Homejacking
The Eighth Billionaire
The Wrong Woman
Short Stories
Felonies and Penalties (Saffron Diffley Short 1)
Purrfect Santa (Mysteries of Max Short 1)
Purrfect Christmas Mystery (Mysteries of Max Short 2)
Purrfect Christmas Miracle (Mysteries of Max Short 3)
Purrfectly Flealess (Mysteries of Max Short 4)
Copyright © 2019 by Nic Saint. All rights reserved.
Published by Puss in Print Publications.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Editor: Chereese Graves.