“I didn’t stand you up,” he practically shouted, then took a deep breath and worked hard to compose himself once more. “I didn’t stand you up. You’re the one who broke the deal by showing up early and bringing the cat with you.”
The first crack in his composure had appeared—pry, pry, pry!
“Yeah, so what?” I said, keeping my eyes fierce, determined. “There’s nothing wrong with my cat.”
Peter laughed bitterly, then pulled his shirt aside to show the deep claw marks from Octo-Cat’s attack last week.
“Fine, okay.” I had to fight hard to keep my smirk at bay as I studied the still-red skin. “So, let’s start again.”
“No,” Peter said, turning his chair away from me and pretending to focus on the computer. I could still see him watching me from the corner of his eye, though.
I reached across and shut off his monitor with a humph. “Yes,” I insisted.
“If I’d have known you were this much trouble, I never would have—” He stopped abruptly, catching himself before he could get to the climax of that particular sentence.
“Never would have what?” I demanded, leaning even closer. His cloying cologne filled my nostrils, and we were now so close I could have kissed him if I wanted. Not that I’d ever want anything more from Peter than a few answers.
“Forget it,” he said, his voice shaking as his face began to turn the same shade of red as the claw marks on his chest.
I poked him again, showing him that I couldn’t simply be brushed aside with broken promises and non-answers. “Yeah, you tried to make me forget, didn’t you? But I’m not as pliable as you think I am.”
“Will you just shut up?” Peter squeaked, his eyes widening in obvious terror. After clearing his throat, he leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Stop prying into my secrets. Otherwise, I might just have to share yours with all of Blueberry Bay. You got me?”
I nodded slowly, not knowing whether he was bluffing or dead serious but also preferring not to find out. It didn’t matter, though, because he did that wavy finger thing under the desk and suddenly I just didn’t care anymore.
It wasn’t until I got home that evening that I remembered about the digital recorder I’d stashed in my bra. Thank goodness for my tendency to whip that thing off the moment I stepped through the door.
“Did you get some good scoop during your walkabout?” I asked Nan when I found her putting the finishing touches on lunch in the kitchen.
She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Nothing yet, but we’ll be back out there tomorrow.”
Octo-Cat huffed. “Maybe she will, but I’m done. Please tell me you got something out of Peter today.” He looked up at me with huge pleading eyes, and I wish I had a better answer for him than I don’t remember.
“I have this recording,” I said, holding up the small item I’d palmed after finding it in my bra.
“Oh, goodie!” Nan cried. “The perfect dinner theater.” She tilted her head to the side and let out a chuckle. “Only for lunch.”
I laughed, too, and flipped on the recorder, hoping I’d managed to catch something good. Thankfully, it was only a matter of minutes before Peter’s and my conversation from earlier that morning played back through the tiny speaker.
Some of the words were drowned out by the rustle of my shirt fabric, but the message still came through loud and clear. Peter knew that I knew something, and he was terrified of me finding out anything more.
“All right,” Octo-Cat said following Peter’s final whispered threat. “I’m taking the lead on this one.”
“Wait. What do you mean?” I sputtered. Octo-Cat had never taken the lead before, and the fact he wanted to now scared me worse than anything I’d seen yet. “What’s your plan?”
He sat before me on the table, flexing the claws on one of his front paws and staring at them with delight. “I’m sure you already know that cats are great at everything. And, lucky for you, I’m even greater than most cats. But do you know what I’m greatest at?”
I shook my head, hoping he would just get on with it. Octo-Cat considered himself the greatest genius and talent of our time, so he could literally be talking about anything right about now.
“Stalking my prey,” he answered with a sinister smile. “I smell a rat, and you better believe I’m going to make him my dinner.”
I continued to stare blankly at Octo-Cat, not sure whether he was done or what he’d even meant by the things he’d said so far.
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Peter. I’m talking about Peter.”
“You’re going to eat him?” I ground out, trying so hard not to laugh.
“No, it’s just…” The tabby groaned. “I was going for a poetic moment there and you kind of ruined it. Can you please get with the program already?”
“Yes, sorry,” I murmured, then waited as he went through his entire speech again. When he got to the part about smelling a rat and making it his dinner, I brought a hand to my chest and pretended to swoon.
“My hero,” I said overdramatically.
Octo-Cat smiled proudly. “And don’t you forget it.”
Oh, of all the things I’d forgotten lately, this was one thing I’d never be able to erase from my memory—no matter how much I might want to.
Whatever his plan, I just hoped that my cat—my hero—would be safe.
Chapter Twelve
That evening Octo-Cat sent me out for a bit of last-minute shopping. He’d requested an Apple Watch, of all things. Now, if you think people can be snobby about their preference for Macs, multiply that by one hundred and you’ll have a good sense of how devoted my tabby was to his particular electronics brand of choice.
Sometimes I regretted ever giving him that iPad.
Of course, I had to drive to the next town over to reach the closest big-box electronics store, and I may have gotten laughed at by the employee who’d been assigned to help me.
“You want an Apple Watch for your cat?” he asked incredulously for the third time that conversation. Seemed he thought I was too stupid to understand the question.
I decided to offer a bit more of an explanation to help get us past the whole laughing and customer-shaming episode. “Yeah, I need to attach it to his collar so I can track where he goes when he’s outside.”
“And it has to be Apple?” he asked, gasping for air between laughs. “There are way cheaper options that are made specifically for pets.”
My brow pinched in frustration. Clearly, this man had never been owned by a cat. The poor oaf.
“My cat really prefers Apple products whenever possible,” I answered quietly, hoping that we wouldn’t attract any other clueless employees before my purchase was made. “Can we please just hurry?”
“Yeah, sure. There’s a slight problem, though.” He stopped laughing and offered me a piteous expression. “The current generation of Apple Watches have to be tethered to a phone in order to work long range.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning it won’t work for what you want,” he explained somewhat impatiently.
I glanced around the emptying store. Soon closing time would be upon us, which meant I needed to make a relatively quick decision. I could cater to my cat’s ego—or to his safety. You may think the correct choice would have been obvious, but it was a harder decision than you could possibly imagine.
“Okay, show me the pet GPS units,” I decided aloud.
The worker smirked as he led me over to a glass case at the end of the aisle where we’d been standing this whole time. I chose the one that looked most like it could be an Apple product and pointed to where it sat inside the display case.
“Ooh. Great choice,” the worker said with a nod of affirmation. “It’s our best reviewed model.”