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

“Oh, I know, honey. You’re probably here about that potato truck incident?”

“You heard about that?” asked Odelia, approaching the woman’s desk.

“Heard about it? Phone’s been ringing off the hook. People wanna know what happened. They figure there must have been more dead bodies—a massacre. I keep telling them it was just the one guy, but they don’t believe me. Figure we’re trying to keep the whole thing under wraps.” She shook her head. “Damn conspiracy wackos.”

“Was it an accident, you think?” asked Odelia.

“I doubt it,” said the receptionist with a growl. “I think the guy was probably murdered and dumped on that truck.” She leaned a little closer and lowered her voice. “If you ask me this thing’s got mafia written all over it. Wouldn’t surprise me if the guy was a mobster and either some rival gang took him out or he was whacked by his own people for shooting his mouth off—or stealing from his crew. Take your pick.” She tapped her nose. “Trust me—when the truth comes out you’ll see I wasn’t far off. I got a nose for this stuff.”

We quickly resumed our trek through the police station’s inner sanctum and soon found ourselves in Odelia’s uncle’s office. Uncle Alec, who’s also the chief of police of our small town, was sitting behind his desk, quietly pulling at those few remaining strands of hair on his head. In front of him sat Chase, and he looked just as frustrated as his boss.

“Everything all right?” asked Odelia when she took a seat in the last remaining chair and made herself comfortable. “You both look a little… flustered?”

“Flustered is right,” the Chief grumbled. “Turns out the guy on that potato truck was murdered. Can you believe it? For once I would have liked one of those open-and-shut cases you always hear so much about to land on my desk, but instead it’s one homicide after another.” He shook his grizzled head. “If this keeps up I’m going to apply for early retirement. I never signed up to be the chief of police of the homicide capital of America. I signed up to be in charge of a pleasant little town, at most having to drag in a couple of drunk and disorderlies on a Friday night, and otherwise enjoy the peaceful life of a small-town cop.” He gave his deputy a scathing glance. “I blame you, Kingsley.”

“Me!” said Chase, extremely surprised. “What did I do?”

“Ever since you joined up the number of murder cases has been on the rise. You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you? To pester me.”

“Honestly, Uncle Alec, you can’t be serious,” said Odelia with a smile. “Now tell me more about this Bob Rector guy, and how he ended up on that truck.”

Uncle Alec stared at her in surprise. “Bob Rector? How do you know his name?”

“Oh, I have my sources,” she said as she patted my head. I’d assumed my position next to her chair, with Dooley inspecting the room and sniffing around to make sure nothing had changed since the last time we were in there. Cats like to make sure, you see. We like to be in the know.

“Well, by all means enlighten us,” said Uncle Alec, spreading his arms.

“Yeah, what do you know that we don’t?” asked Chase, giving me a look of appreciation—or at least I thought it was appreciation. With humans you never know. It could have been a look of frustration that we had discovered certain aspects of the case that the cops hadn’t. Then again, I doubted it. Chase is not one of those people who dislike cats. On the contrary.

“Well, Max and Dooley had a long talk with Evelina Pytel’s pet,” Odelia began.

“Evelina Pytel? Who’s Evelina Pytel?” asked Uncle Alec.

“Bob Rector’s girlfriend.” She took a deep breath, then proceeded to recount the story to her uncle and fiancé, who both sat riveted, hanging on her every word. “So you see,” she said in conclusion, “Mr. Rector’s kidnapping probably had something to do with the fact that he’s now dead.”

Uncle Alec and Chase shared a look of consternation.

“And this Evelina Pytel’s dog told you all this?” asked Odelia’s uncle.

“Dog!” I cried. “Why do humans always assume that if it’s a pet it has to be a dog?!”

Both cops looked down at me, their attention no doubt attracted by my loud meows.

“What is he saying?” asked Chase, crooking a quizzical eyebrow.

“He’s taking offense at your assumption that Evelina’s pet is a dog,” Odelia said. “But that’s neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is—”

“So it was a cat?” asked the Chief, like most cops unable to let a mystery go without having been supplied a satisfying answer.

“Actually it was a snail,” Odelia muttered quietly and almost inaudibly. In fact even to my trained cat’s ears I had to prick up those ears to pick up the sound of her voice.

“See? It was a cat,” said the Chief. “I knew it,” he added with a wink in my direction, which only managed to allay my pique to some extent.

“I don’t think she said cat, Chief,” said Chase, whose ears apparently are almost as good as mine.

Odelia sighed. “Okay, so it was a snail.”

Uncle Alec stared at her. “A…”

“Snail. The slimy creatures? Who carry their homes on their backs?”

The chief blinked a couple of times, then burst into raucous laughter. After a few moments he caught onto the fact that neither his deputy nor his niece were joining in, and he stopped the frolicking rollicking display of mirth. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, Uncle Alec. A snail hired Max and Dooley’s services to try and find out what happened to Evelina’s money, and whether Mr. Ed’s suspicions that Bob engineered his own abduction are true.”

“Mr… Ed?” said the Chief, and for a moment I was afraid he would once more become the victim of a laughter attack. He managed to tamp down on his merriment, though judging from the tinge of crimson that crept up his cheeks a