“It’s a normal bowl from the dollar store and is perfectly fine. I eat out of it all the time.” I pushed the bowl toward him emphatically, and Octo-Cat jumped back in fright.
“That’s hardly a ringing endorsement.” He eyed me from head to toe and shrugged his little kitty shoulders before turning and leaping back to my armchair. “Suddenly, I’m not so thirsty,” he declared with a yawn.
Instead of responding to his snobbery, I popped open my soda and took a nice, long drink. The bubbles did little to calm my frazzled nerves.
“Are we going to talk about this?” Octo-Cat flicked his tail impatiently. Despite the many delays he’d caused, my single drink was now to blame for us falling behind in the two of us beginning our job as amateur sleuths.
As much as I hated to be a pushover, it was simply easier to go along with his outrageousness than to keep arguing over every little thing. The sooner we identified the murderer and brought him to justice, the sooner I could be back to my normal, cat-free life.
I took a deep, centering breath and asked, “What makes you think Ethel Fulton was murdered?”
“I don’t think she was murdered. I know it. I saw everything with my own two eyes.” He widened his amber gaze demonstratively. Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult after all.
“Oh, great. Well, who did it then?” I leaned forward, ready for the big reveal.
“I don’t know.”
Deep breaths. “But you said you saw everything?”
“I did.”
“Then how can you not know who did it?”
“It was definitely a human,” he said, an expression of surety spread between his whiskers.
“Really? Is that all you’ve got?” The couch groaned in protest as I threw myself back against it and threw my hands in the air so as not to ring Octo-Cat’s neck with them. “Was it a man or a woman? Someone old or young? A stranger or someone she knew?”
He yawned. “Do you really expect me to remember that?”
“Are you serious?” And now I was yelling at a cat.
“What? It’s not my fault all humans look the same.”
Deep, calming yoga breaths. “So, you saw a human kill her, but you don’t know who.”
“Yes. That’s what I said. Aren’t you paying attention?”
I spoke slowly even though he was the one who assumed me to be an idiot. “Do you know how the human killed her? From what I understand, she died of natural causes.”
“No, she wasn’t ready to die yet. Someone definitely intervened.”
I waited for him to say more, but he started grooming himself instead.
“Hello? We’re kind of in the middle of an important conversation here. Can you stop licking yourself for five minutes so we can figure this out?”
Octo-Cat let out a little huff but complied with my request. “The sacrifices I make. I hope Ethel is watching from above so that my good deeds don’t go unnoticed.”
“I’m sure she’s in Heaven, looking down at us and thinking, ‘Wow, what a great cat I had.’ Now, can you tell me the whole story from start to finish? About the murder,” I quickly specified, not wanting to hear about his mother’s six nipples again.
He nodded and brought himself up onto his haunches. What followed was a dramatic retelling that would have been worthy of an Oscar if anyone could understand him besides me.
“Let me paint the scene for you.” He lifted his paw and swept it in an arc before him. “It was just two nights ago. The weather was balmy. The light had begun to fade from the sky. Ethel had invited several other humans over to eat food at the table. She cooked the whole thing herself. I remember because she made salmon and also gave me a little plate to enjoy. I’m happy to report the fish was perfectly cooked, tender but not dry, and the portion was absolutely perfect, too. Ethel always knew exactly what I needed.”
“Focus, please,” I said through gritted teeth. “Back to the murder, if you don’t mind.”
He sneered but didn’t offer any verbal argument. “Everyone ate more than their fill, then they all went home. When Ethel was getting ready for bed, she clutched her chest and told me she wasn’t feeling well, then tucked herself in and went to sleep. She didn’t wake up again.”
“It sounds like maybe she had a heart attack. What makes you think she was murdered?” I reached out to offer him a conciliatory pat on the head, but he batted my hand away.
“Ethel had a very strong heart,” he insisted. “She was always telling me about it after she came back from the doctors.” He made his voice high and scratchy, hunching forward in what seemed to be an impression of his late owner. “‘Doc says I have a strong heart and just might live forever.’ In fact, she went to the doctor just that week, and he again told her what good shape her heart was in.”
I didn’t know how to put this delicately, so I just blurted it out. “Yes, but she was old. Sometimes their bodies just give out on them.”
He shook his head adamantly, and when he glanced up at me again, his eyes had crossed before his nose. “Maybe, but that’s not what happened to Ethel. She smelled funny after dinner.”
I worried my lip while thinking this over. I knew Octo-Cat loved his owner, but the more he talked, the more it sounded as if she’d died of natural causes and not some secret murder scheme. I just didn’t know how to tell him this.
After a moment’s hesitation, I told him, “I’ve heard cats can sometimes know when people are about to die. You two were very close, so maybe you just sensed it.”
Again with the manic head shaking. “No, she was definitely murdered. That same weird smell was in the dinner and the tea.”
“Are you trying to tell me she was poisoned? I’m not sure that pans out. Remember, you told me in great detail how you ate the fish and you are perfectly fine.”
“She fed me before the guests arrived. I think someone tampered with the food after I’d left the kitchen to go take a cat nap.”
I raised an eyebrow and asked, “Then why didn’t the other guests die?”
“Someone specifically wanted to kill Ethel, I guess.” He moved his eyes to the chair before him in his first show of true sorrow. “I don’t understand. She was the nicest human ever. Who would want to kill her?”
“I was hoping you’d know the answer to that one.” I had to remind myself that he didn’t want to be petted—at least not by me. I wrapped both hands around my drink and took another sip before suggesting, “She did have a lot of money. Do you think someone was trying to get their inheritance early?”
His head whipped back up and his eyes focused in on mine. “So you think someone in the family killed her?”
I shrugged. “I’m still not entirely convinced she was even murdered.”
“Then I guess I’m going to have to show you.” He popped to his feet and jumped off the chair in what amounted to the blink of an eye.
“Show me? How?” I asked, following dumbly.
“Let’s go to my house and take a look around. I guarantee you’ll find the proof you need,” he said, then flicked his tail before adding, “Seeing as my word apparently isn’t enough.”
CHAPTER SIX
Iconsidered it a small miracle that Octo-Cat actually knew his home address. He and Ethel had lived together on the exact opposite side of town close to the bay—the same as all the other wealthy folks around Glendale.
A private drive twisted about half a mile through the woods before it opened up to a gorgeous, sprawling Colonial with huge bay windows looking out onto the sea.
My jaw dropped in response to the unexpected grandeur. “You live here?”
“Safety first, then talk,” Octo-Cat whisper-yelled, digging his claws deeper into my thighs as I navigated the last stretch of driveway and pulled to a stop before the structure that reminded me more of a palace than an actual home.