I fixed my eyes on her to show I wasn’t embarrassed, even though I mostly definitely was. “Of course. It helps them to forge an emotional bond which will be important even for the brief time we’re living together.”
She glanced from me to the cat and back again, then shrugged. “Okay, well, I just pulled his things from the car. Are you sure it’s not any trouble for you to take him off our hands for a few days?”
She stopped and frowned before confiding, “I’m afraid he’s not the nicest animal.”
“Positive. Thanks for grabbing his stuff. I should probably get both of us home for some rest. Busy day, huh?” I laughed nervously, then pushed past her through the doorway.
“Here, kitty. C’mon, kitty.” I clicked my tongue and patted the side of my thigh to call him over.
Octo-Cat obediently trotted after me, mumbling through gritted teeth, “If you ever call me ‘kitty’ again, I’m going to puke in your slippers while you sleep.”
“Okay, bye now!” I yelled to Diane, quickly gathering up all of the cat’s things piled by the firm’s main entrance.
Once we were both safely seated in my car, Octo-Cat exploded in a litany of what I assumed were feline-specific curse words.
“Stop that,” I scolded. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
He paused and looked over at me with such derision, I actually recoiled. “Now you’re insulting my mother? I’ll have you know she did the best she could with seven kittens to feed and only six nipples to feed them with.”
I shuddered and pulled the car into reverse. “Well, thank you for that visual.”
Octo-Cat let out a terrible yowl and jumped onto my lap, claws extended. “Oh, my whiskers! We’re going to die!” he cried. “I’m too young to die. Too pretty. And far too important.”
“Aww, are you afraid?” I cooed, almost liking him in that moment, even though his claws were digging into my thigh. “That’s so cute.”
“I am not cute,” he ground out. “Get me to safety at once, then we shall discuss your punishment.”
I laughed and turned on the radio, letting the newest top forty hit flood the car and drown out some of Octo-Cat’s complaints about my driving.
Despite the unnecessary drama, we managed to make it back to my house in good time, but now I had a new problem. I loved my tiny two-bedroom rental with its wide porch and tall oak tree in the front yard.
My new roommate, on the other hand…
“Where have you brought me?” he demanded, unwilling to leave the car no matter how much I begged.
“This is my house and you’ll be living here, too, for a few days,” I explained, even though my patience had worn so thin it was like a strand of angel hair pasta.
He turned his spoiled pink nose up at me. “No, absolutely not! This is hardly even a hovel. It’s not up to the standards by which I am accustomed to living.”
I had half a mind to hightail it back to the office and return him to the Fultons. Instead I took a deep, sarcastic bow and grumbled, “Well, too bad, your royal highness. This is all I can afford. Besides, you’re just an ordinary tabby cat with a bad attitude and ridiculous expectations of life.”
He hissed and took an honest-to-goodness swipe at me. Luckily, I managed to yank my arm out of his path before he could break skin.
“Just a tabby!” he shouted, gracing me with another diatribe full of kitty curses. “How dare you? I’ll have you know that I am part Maine Coon on my grandmother’s side.”
I was growing really tired of this. Why did every little thing have to be a battle?
I dropped to my haunches to face him eye-to-eye, even though it put me at incredible risk given his temper coupled with those sharp claws.
“Look, do you want me to help you solve this murder or not? Because from where I’m sitting, I’m literally the only person in the entire world who can help you right now. But if you want me to actually do that, you’re going to have to be a whole lot nicer.”
We stared each other down, but I refused to look away first. I dealt with megalomaniac attorneys on the regular. I could handle this little, ill-tempered cat.
Finally, Octo-Cat stretched, yawned, jumped down from the car, and trotted over to my front door.
“Are you going to let me in or what?” he yowled from my porch, flicking his tail in agitation.
Well, at least it was progress.
CHAPTER FIVE
Once inside, Octo-Cat made a beeline for my favorite overstuffed armchair. Despite his protests only moments ago, he quickly settled in and made himself comfortable. From the state of my pants, I already knew Octo-Cat was a massive shedder. My poor cream-colored chair didn’t stand a chance against his brown and black fur.
Still, he was a guest, and Nan had worked hard to teach me manners.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked, hesitating by the kitchen.
He perked his head up and let out a contented purr that I found just as shocking as if he’d sprouted a second tail. “Do you have any Evian?” he asked politely, crossing his paws in front of himself now.
“I have tap water and…” I glanced into the fridge and frowned at the lack of cat-friendly options. “Diet Coke and apple juice, too.”
The purring abruptly stopped as Octo-Cat uncrossed and recrossed his paws. “I’ll pass for now, but you’re going to need to go to the store and gather the necessary supplies for my stay. I only drink Evian, and I only eat Fancy Feast. Not just any flavor, mind you. It must be fish-based, and it must come in the small metal can—not the plastic container. I can taste the difference.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the audacity of this request. “Is that all?”
“No, but we need to start somewhere.” He scowled at me, refusing to see the humor in the situation.
Seeing as we were getting nowhere fast, I gave up in the kitchen and returned to the living room with a can of Diet Coke for myself. I slumped on the couch with a huge sigh. If Octo-Cat was going to be melodramatic, then I would be, too.
His probing amber gaze bore into me, refusing to look away, and that danged tail began flicking wildly again. It was a wonder he hadn’t learned any manners, given the circumstances in which he’d lived up until two days ago.
I cleared my throat but still, he continued to stare unabashedly. Was he waiting for me to…? Oh my gosh.
“I don’t need to go to the store right now,” I snapped, correcting my posture and glaring right back at him. “Do I?”
He shrugged as if he hadn’t given it much thought, even though we both knew he had. “Well, it would be nice.”
“This morning all you could talk about was Ethel Fulton’s murder. Now it’s more important that you have a specific type of water than that we discuss the details and start working on the case?”
He considered this for a moment. “I never thought I’d say this, but bring on the tap water.”
“Really?” Despite his giving the desired response, I fully expected him to change his mind within a matter of seconds—or to tell me that he’d obviously been joking and then call me stupid for not getting it.
“Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the ones we love. This one’s for Ethel.” He nodded gravely despite the fact that we were discussing one of the most mundane topics imaginable.
“Oh, how long-suffering you are.”
His eyes widened in what I presumed was shock. “Hopefully not long suffering. Once I tell you what I know, it should be an open and shut case.”
“Perfect,” I said, making my way to the kitchen and running the faucet for a few seconds to make sure it was the perfect temperature for my spoiled new acquaintance. “Tell me what you know.”
Octo-Cat waited until I had returned and set the bowl of water on the coffee table before him. He hopped over and sniffed hesitantly.
“This isn’t made of Lennox or crystal. Not even stainless steel.” He craned his neck to the side, turning his body into an odd, snobby twist of fur and limbs. “What is it? And is it safe to drink from?”