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

Pytel now,” Odelia said. She glanced up at her grandmother and Scarlett, who stood convening on the sidewalk, presumably also very busy trying to solve this most baffling case of the potato truck victim, and said, “Do you guys want to join me? I’m going to interview Evelina Pytel. The victim’s girlfriend.”

“No, you go ahead,” said Gran, quite surprisingly, Dooley thought. “Scarlett and I are following a different trail. Isn’t that right, Scarlett?”

“Absolutely,” said Scarlett, who was dressed very nicely, Dooley thought, in an outfit that left plenty of opportunity for air to reach all the different parts of her body. Like cats, she seemed averse to the wearing of clothes, and Dooley had the distinct impression that if given the opportunity she would prefer not to wear any clothes at all. A very wise choice, Dooley felt. After all, clothes were nothing but a hindrance.

“What trail?” asked Odelia, getting up again and in doing so halting her tickling activities, which Dooley felt could have gone on just a little bit longer. Like maybe for another hour—or four.

“Look, I think it’s best if we split up into two teams,” said Gran. “You go and interview Evelina, and Scarlett and I will… follow a different avenue.”

“What avenue? What are you talking about?”

“I think it’s best if we keep this information under our hats for now, wouldn’t you agree, Scarlett?”

“Absolutely,” Scarlett said.

It was a conversation fraught with mystery, as so many human conversations are. For one thing, as far as Dooley could tell neither Gran nor Scarlett were wearing a hat, so how could they keep any information under this non-existent head adornment? Also, how do you keep information under a hat? It seemed like a tough proposition. Then again, humans are often capable of amazing feats, and perhaps this was one of them.

“Okay, have it your way,” said Odelia, sounding a little peeved. “Max, Dooley, let’s go.”

And then they were off, Odelia walking so briskly that Max and Dooley were forced to break into a mild trot to keep up. Cats’ legs are, after all, a lot shorter than human legs, a fact which Odelia seemed momentarily to have forgotten.

“Why is she hurrying so much, Max?” asked Dooley, panting.

“I think she’s upset with Gran,” said Max, who had, of course, managed to grasp the significance of the conversation perfectly, reading Odelia’s mood with a single glance.

“Upset? Why is she upset?”

“Because Gran is refusing to share information about the case with her. Vital information, from what I could gather. And that kind of thing goes against everything Odelia believes in when it comes to handling an investigation.”

“She doesn’t like it when Gran refuses to share information?”

“She hates it. The only way to solve a case, in Odelia’s view, is to share information, not keep it hidden from your fellow sleuths.”

“But why wouldn’t Gran want to share this vital information, Max? Is she angry with Odelia?”

“I don’t know, Dooley. She must have her reasons. And I’m sure we’ll soon find out.”

They’d arrived at Odelia’s car, which was still parked in front of the Gazette offices, and Odelia ushered them both into the backseat before taking her position behind the wheel.

“I don’t understand,” she was grumbling as she inserted her key into the ignition and turned it clockwise, drawing a smoker’s cough from the engine before it wheezed to life. “Gran being so secretive, I mean. Almost as if she doesn’t want me to solve this case.”

“I think Gran has a secret,” Dooley piped up. “And if you want I can find out for you what that secret is.”

Odelia smiled. “Thanks, Dooley. That’s very sweet of you.”

After all, Gran and Dooley habitually sat on the couch at night to watch a number of television programs, and invariably Gran liked to blab about her day while they were watching. The old lady simply couldn’t help it. Often when there was a lull in the programming, like a commercial break or a moment when there wasn’t much happening on the screen, she would talk incessantly about every single thing she’d been up to that day. Dooley liked to think that Gran used to do the same thing when her husband was alive, and now that he had passed she talked to Dooley instead. Dooley didn’t mind. He cherished those moments with Gran on the couch, and told her all about his day, too.

“Before the day is through,” he said therefore, “I’ll know exactly what Gran is up to. Just you wait and see.”

He might just be the silly Doctor Watson or Captain Hastings to Max’s brilliant Sherlock or Hercule Poirot, but he also had a part to play, and he enjoyed playing it.

But then Odelia stomped on the accelerator and the car gave one more wheezy cough then reluctantly lurched forward and so did Dooley’s stomach.

No matter how many times he’d spent in this car, he never could get used to the terrible noise the engine made, or the weird motions of the car. It was unnatural for cats to ride in cars. And so he closed his eyes and started to count pieces of kibble until the moment the car came to a stop again and he could finally leave this monstrous machine.

Hopefully still in one piece.

Chapter 16

We arrived at Evelina Pytel’s house just in time—or just too late, depending on how you look at it. Evelina had just closed the front door and was walking to her car, car keys in hand, and clearly was on the point of getting into her vehicle and taking off somewhere.

Odelia had slowed down her car and when she saw that Evelina was about to take off, immediately braked her aged pickup, cranked down the window and yelled, “Miss Pytel! Miss Evelina Pytel? Hi! I’m sorry to trouble you like this, but could I have a quick word?”

And to show Miss Pytel she meant what she said, she pulled up the handbrake and got out. Dooley and I also hopped down from the trusty old vehicle, Dooley a