“He would say that, wouldn’t he?” said Odelia.
“Then again, why would he use room service to kill his competitor?” Chase said. “That would be dumb.”
“Good point,” Alec grunted. “And if he did put some type of explosive in that bottle there would be traces on his person and in his room. Which is what we’re trying to determine right now.”
As they spoke, some of the interesting men came ambling out of the hotel and walked over to where Burt’s remains had dropped down to the sidewalk. Burt’s grandson, meanwhile, joined Odelia, Chase and her uncle. He was pale as a sheet. “This is horrible,” he said. “A nightmare. What do you think happened, Chief? Is it true what they’re all saying?”
“What are they saying, son?” asked Alec.
“That he did this to himself? That he committed suicide in the most spectacular way possible?” He stifled a sob. “That he went out with a bang?”
“It’s too soon to tell,” said Chief Alec.
“What do you think?” asked Chase.
The kid stood shaking his head, as if trying to clear it.“Grandpa would never kill himself. He loved life. He loved himself. He loved being the Most Fascinating Man in the World. I—I just can’t believe it. Then again, he did love a good show.” He closed his eyes, looking pained and on the verge of another collapse. “I just don’t know,” he said. “I just know I loved the old man to pieces and now…” He stifled another sob. “Now he is in pieces.”
Uncle Alec grasped his shoulder and gave it a good squeeze.“Try not to think about it too much, son. Whatever happened here—I can promise you this: we’re going to get to the bottom of it. We’re going to find out what exactly happened to your grandfather and you’ll be the first to know when we do.”
“Thanks, Chief,” said the kid hoarsely. “You’re very kind.”
Just then, an altercation alerted them that something was amiss. A woman came walking up to the hotel, loudly demanding to be told what was going on. She was making quite a scene, making heads turn up and down the street.
“Uh-oh,” said Chief Alec.
The woman was his mother—Odelia’s Grandma Muffin.
Chapter 5
Frankly I was having a hard time coming to terms with the tragedy that had befallen me. Fleas? Feasting on my body? The thought was too outrageous to contemplate. And yet it was true. I’d seen the little buggers, jumping up and down with joy after drinking from my blood—sticking tiny little holes in my skin with their tiny little mouths—invading the sanctity of this feline body of mine. Dooley was even more devastated by the news than me.
“Why, Max?” he was wailing after Chase had left. “Whyyyyyy?”
I could have consoled him but frankly I didn’t feel up to it. And when Brutus and Harriet joined us in Odelia’s backyard, also looking glum and forlorn, the pity party was complete. Four cats, struck down by the weight of woe—or a small army of fleas.
“I can’t believe it,” said Harriet, the prettiest white Persian for miles around. She was licking her snowy white fur distractedly, her heart clearly not in it. “Fleas. Me. It must be some mistake.”
“It’s not a mistake,” said her partner Brutus, a black and muscular creature who at one time had been my mortal enemy. We’d learned to coexist, though, and had struck up an awkward friendship. Well, maybe not a friendship, per se. More like a modicum of mutual respect. “Marge inspected myfur and there they were. An entire colony of bugs, snacking on this beautiful body of mine. This temple. This epitome of health and beauty. This—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I said irritably. I was not in the mood to listen to Brutus’s narcissistic ramblings. Though truth be told he recited his ode to himself in a toneless voice. It was obvious he was down in the dumps with the rest of us. “Look, we can whine all we want. It’s not going to dous any good! All we need to do is trust that Odelia will do the right thing.”
“They lay eggs, you know,” Brutus said in that same listless voice. Almost as if he hadn’t heard what I said, which wouldn’t be the first time. “Big giant collections of eggs. Thousands of them. Millions, maybe. And when they hatch, that’ll be the end of us.”
Dooley stared at him in abject horror.“Eggs!” He gulped once or twice and dropped to his paws, plunking down on the cool grass. We were seated in the shade of the tulip tree that borders Odelia’s backyard. It’s one of our favorite spots. Now? I wasn’t so sure. Maybe these fleas had jumped from this tree onto our fur? Maybe they lived in the grass?
“Look,” I said, holding up my paws. “Let’s all stay calm, all right? Let’s not panic.”
“A colony of eggs!” Dooley cried. “On my body! Millions and millions of them!”
“I just can’t with this,” said Harriet, hanging her head. “This is all too much.”
“I talked to Kingman,” said Brutus. “And he told me fleas can grow to be as big as mice—rats even! Can you imagine? Millions of those horrible creatures?”
“We’re dead,” said Dooley. “We’re all dead.”
“We’re not dead, you guys!” I said, trying to stifle my own rising sense of panic. “Fleas don’t grow to be as big as mice. Are you kidding me? If they did don’t you think we would have seen them by now? Don’t you think Odelia would have called an exterminator?”
“It’s just like that movie,” Dooley said. “First they killed Gwyneth, then they went after Rose from Titanic.” He sniffed and turned over on his back, paws bonelessly flopping in the air. “Max,” he bleated. “If I go first, tell Odelia about that time I broke her phone. Tell her I’m sorry. Ask her to forgive me.” He snuffled. “I’ll never break another one of her phones in my life. Cause I’ll be dead! And dead cats don’t break phones!”
“Tell her yourself,” I said. “You’re not going to die, Dooley. None of us are.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Brutus. “Kingman said—”
“Oh, don’t listen to that cat,” I interrupted him. “He talks through his butt.”
This seemed to interest Dooley.“Kingman talks through his butt? I never noticed.”
“It’s an expression,” said Harriet. She’d stopped grooming herself and was now studying her belly—no doubt searching for that million-strong flea colony. “I don’t see them,” she announced. “Oh, wait. What are these little black spots? There were no black spots before.” Her voicewas rising sharply. “Are these eggs? Eww! EWW! Get them off! Brutus—get them OFF me!” She was patting her belly anxiously. “Brutus! BRUTUUUUUUUS!”
Brutus, always the gallant suitor, did what he could, rubbing her tummy feverishly. All the while Harriet was screaming up a storm. For a fastidious cat like herself, always looking spic and span and priding herself in her perfect grooming skills, this was nothing short of a tragedy. Imagine Kim Kardashian suddenly breaking out in hives. Only these weren’t hives but some horrible bugs burrowing into our skin! Laying eggs and feasting on our blood!
“There—you missed one. Get them off! GET THEM OFF!”
Dooley watched the scene with hollow eyes. It was obvious he felt that since death was imminent, and the flea invasion inevitable, all this hullabaloo was utterly pointless. His next words confirmed this newly acquired world view.“Just let them eat you alive.”
Harriet, even though in the throes of the biggest personal crisis of her life, still found the time and energy to give him a laser-eyed look that could kill.“No damn CRITTER is going to eat ME alive. I’ve worked too damn HARD on this gorgeous body of mine to allowANYTHING to feast on me, least of all some LOWLY PARASITE!”
Now that was the spirit. I, for one, was a hundred percent sure Odelia would solve this mess posthaste. That’s what she did. That’s why I’d chosen her as my human. Oh, you may think humans choose us. Well, that’s where you’re wrong. Cats choose their humans, not the other way around. And I’d always prided myself in choosing the right one. She wouldn’t disappoint me now. I was ninety percentsure. Maybe eighty. Definitely seventy.