The Mysteries of Max: Books 31-33 by Nic Saint (chrome ebook reader txt) 📗

getting down to brass tacks without delay—a practice that he probably learned at our human’s knee. Reporters like to get to the juicy stuff ASAP.

Odelia frowned. “A snail asked you to do what now?”

I decided to take over from my friend. “Mr. Ed, who is a snail—”

“One of those creatures that like to carry their homes on their backs,” Dooley added helpfully.

“—has asked us to look into the kidnapping and death of his human’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, so it went from a kidnapping to a death in less than five seconds now, did it? That’s fast work, Max.”

“First he was kidnapped and then he was killed,” Dooley said. “Not the other way around. At least I don’t think so,” he said, giving me a questioning look.

“Usually people get kidnapped before they’re killed,” I confirmed. Though of course there are always kidnappers who abduct dead bodies, for whatever reason. But I didn’t think we were looking at such a case here.

“So… a snail’s human’s boyfriend was kidnapped then murdered? Am I getting this right?” asked Odelia, blinking a little now.

“His name was Bob Rector,” Dooley went on. “Though she liked to call him Bobby. They met on a dating site. They hit it off but then he was taken and the kidnappers wanted seventy-five thousand dollars for him. She paid the money but he wasn’t released.”

“Well, he was probably released,” I said. “Only by that time he was already dead.”

“Death by potato,” said Dooley, nodding. “Very sad.”

Odelia’s face betrayed a sudden animation. “Wait, you’re not telling me that this Bob, this guy who was kidnapped, is the same guy who was found this morning?”

“One and the same,” I confirmed cheerfully. I quickly tamped down on my cheerfulness, though. It doesn’t suit a serious-minded detective like me to be flippant when dealing with death. So it was in grave tones that I continued, “Mr. Ed thinks there’s something fishy about Bob’s death. In fact he thinks Bob was in on the whole thing. That the only reason he got involved with Evelina was to get his hands on her money.”

“So Mr. Ed—your snail—thinks Bob Rector set up his own kidnapping?”

“Mr. Ed isn’t our snail, Odelia,” said Dooley with a laugh. “He’s Evelina’s snail.”

“Uh-huh,” said Odelia pensively. I could see her little gray cells were working hard now, trying to grasp the salient facts. “So this Bob Rector sets up his own kidnapping, he collects the money, and then he disappears… only to turn up dead on a potato truck.”

“That is a very succinct and accurate summary,” I said admiringly.

“Oh, and Brutus and Harriet don’t believe Mr. Ed’s story,” said Dooley. “But Max and I do. Just so you know. In case they try to convince you that Mr. Ed is full of manure.”

“Full of crap,” I corrected automatically.

“I think maybe we should go and have a chat with Evelina,” I suggested. “And Evelina’s sister, too. Because as far as I understand, it was the sister who set things in motion. So she’s the one who could possibly tell us more about Bob and his motives.”

Odelia was still assuming the position of Rodin’s Thinker, though without taking off her clothes, of course. “I think I’ll go and talk to my uncle first,” she said, immediately countering my suggestion with a suggestion of her own.

That’s the trouble when you work with humans: they always have their own opinions—and more often than not what they say goes. What can I say? That’s the life of a cat.

Chapter 8

“What were you working on, Odelia?” asked Dooley as we set paw—or at least we set paw, while Odelia set foot—in the direction of the police station.

“It’s an interesting story, actually,” she said. “Wilfred Hilbourne, who’s an actual English lord, is coming to visit. He’ll be in town for a week or so, and Mayor Butterwick is going to give him the keys to the city. Or one of the keys, at least,” she added with a smile.

“Keys to the city?” asked Dooley. “What does he want with the keys to Hampton Cove?”

Odelia laughed. “It’s an honor bestowed on people the town feels have made a big contribution in some way. Lord Hilbourne’s mother actually grew up in Hampton Cove, before she met Wilfred’s dad, and followed him to England, where they live in a castle.”

“Lord Hilbourne,” I said musingly. “So he’s a lord, is he?”

“What’s a lord, Odelia?” asked Dooley.

“A lord is a man of noble rank or high office,” Odelia explained. “A peer.”

“A pear?”

“Not a pear. A peer. A member of the nobility like a duke, or an earl or a baron. Collectively they’re members of the House of Lords—part of the British Parliament.”

“So… he’s a politician?”

“Well, not really. It’s more of an honorary position. They don’t actually do a lot of the real decision-making as far as I understand. But it is a very prestigious title, and Mayor Butterwick, and the rest of the town council and many people in Hampton Cove, feel it’s an honor to have a son of the city who’s now a lord.”

“When is he arriving in town, this Lord Hilbourne?” I asked.

“Oh, he’s here already. He’s staying at the Hampton Cove Star. In fact I’m scheduled to meet him in… one hour,” she said as she checked her watch. “Dan asked me to conduct the interview. It’s going to be tomorrow’s front page.” She smiled down at us. “Unless your story of Bob and Evelina bumps Lord Hilbourne to the second page, of course.”

We’d arrived at the police station and trudged into the vestibule, where Dolores Peltz, the dispatcher and desk sergeant who presides over these hallowed halls, gave us a curious eye. “One of these days you have to explain to me why every time I see you you’re surrounded by a flock of cats,” she said in her customary raspy tones.

“It’s a clowder of cats,” I corrected the blond-haired dispatcher with a penchant for mascara, even though she probably couldn’t understand me.

“Well, you know how much I like my cats,