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

kicked out the male members for lack of cooperation only Gran and her friend remained.

“What are you doing here?” Gran countered immediately, then a keen look came over her. “You’re going to interview that English lord, aren’t you? Say, mind if we tag along?”

“Tag along? Why?”

“There’s something we need to find out.”

“Lord Whatshisname is suspected of hiding a girl of ill repute in his suite,” Scarlett explained. “And the hotel staff would like to know what he’s planning to do with her before hotel management finds out.”

“Oh, dear,” said Odelia. “I don’t know. Lord Hilbourne’s rider specifically stated I had to come alone for the interview. No pets and no—”

“We’re not pets, though, are we, honey?” said Scarlett. “Look, I promise we’ll be very discreet.”

“Discreet is our middle name,” Gran agreed.

Odelia’s grandmother and her friend were anything but discreet. Then again, if this Lord Hilbourne really was hiding a girl in his suite, she didn’t see the harm in bringing two members of the neighborhood watch along with her to make inquiries. “Look, just make sure you don’t do anything to get me kicked out,” she said, finally relenting.

“We’ll be quiet as church mice,” said Gran.

“Quieter even,” Scarlett said, judging from the look on her face well pleased, which was the exact same look a cat wore after he’d spotted a mouse. Well, any cat except Odelia’s own cats, which were too kind-hearted to bother with catching mice. They’d rather make friends with the critters. Or with snails, apparently.

“Let’s go,” she said. “I don’t want to be late. He only gave me twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes! How are you going to conduct an entire interview in twenty minutes?” asked Gran as they hurried through the hotel lobby, their feet sinking into the plush carpet, and proceeding in the direction of the elevator.

“Plenty,” said Odelia, who was a seasoned reporter and could extract a front-page article out of twenty minutes’ worth of conversation. As the elevator rode up, she asked, “Have you found out anything new about the Potato Guy?”

“Potato Guy,” said Scarlett with a laugh. “Is that what you’re going to call him in your newspaper?”

“Not exactly,” said Odelia with a smile. “His real name is Bob Rector, and according to Max and Dooley he was recently kidnapped. His girlfriend paid seventy-five thousand dollars in ransom money for his safe release, but all she got back was his body, shot through the chest and dumped in a potato truck.”

“That’s more than we knew,” said Gran, cutting a quick look of surprise to her co-watch member.

“Yeah, I had no idea he’d been kidnapped,” said Scarlett. “Who’s the girlfriend?”

“Evelina Pytel.”

Gran whistled through her teeth. “The queen of party supplies. I know Evelina. Seventy-five thousand is chump change for her. And you say she paid and they still shot the boyfriend?”

Odelia nodded. “Looks like a kidnapping gone wrong to me. Now all we need to do is find out who kidnapped Bob and why they killed him, even though the ransom was paid. Though I have to say that Max and Dooley’s source seems convinced Bob arranged his own kidnapping so he could lay his hands on the money.”

“Really,” said Scarlett, arching a perfectly stenciled eyebrow. “Who’s the source?”

Odelia swallowed. “Evelina’s pet… snail.”

Both ladies’ eyes went wide as saucers. Luckily the elevator had jerked to a stop and the door opened before Odelia had to explain the finer points of this peculiar new friendship that had formed between two cats and a snail.

A young woman with a clipboard was waiting for them when the elevator door opened. She was wearing glasses and a look of professionalism. “Odelia Poole?” she asked. She then frowned at the two older ladies. “And you are…”

“My two assistants,” Odelia hastened to explain. “Vesta Muffin and Scarlett Canyon.”

The woman’s eyes traveled the length of Scarlett’s body. As usual, Gran’s best friend was dressed to impress, with an ultra-short skirt, fishnet stockings, and a crop top that did much to emphasize her sizable bust.

“Um… I’m not sure…” said the woman, glancing down at her clipboard.

“It’s all right,” said Gran. “We’ll be quiet as church mice.”

“Quieter!” Scarlett added cheerfully.

The woman blinked and nodded, then walked them to the door of the Presidential Suite and gave it a gentle tap. The door opened and a young man with sizable sideburns tapering to a point at the corners of his mouth and a narrow face stood in the door. “Your two o’clock, sir,” said Clipboard Girl, and the guy gave a curt nod, then walked away. “Remember, you’ve got twenty minutes,” said the girl, and closed the door behind them.

The suite was impressive. The walls were all velvet wallpaper with a flower motif, and the carpets were even more sumptuous than the ones downstairs in the lobby. The room they were in was only one part of the multi-room suite but it was lavish enough, with a salon that looked both opulent but also cozy. “Please take a seat,” the young man with the funky sideburns said. He gestured to an overstuffed sofa and took a seat himself. “I hope this won’t take long. I have a busy afternoon, and I need to get ready.”

“I only need a few minutes of your time,” Odelia assured the man.

He gave a serious nod and placed an arm across the back of the sofa and balanced a leg on his knee, showcasing a black patent leather brogue and orange Burlington socks.

“A bold choice,” said Gran, indicating the man’s socks.

He glanced down at the vestimentary fashion statement and displayed a slight smile. “If I have to wear conservative clothes the least I can do to offset them is my choice of socks,” he said. “I have them in every available color. And you are?”

“Vesta Muffin,” said Gran. “I’m Odelia’s grandmother.”

The man’s noble brow furrowed. “Grandmother. I didn’t know you American reporters liked to bring your grandmothers along on your interviews. And who are you?” he asked, addressing Scarlett. “Miss Poole’s aunt, I presume?”

“I’m Vesta’s friend,” said Scarlett. “Though Odelia has