Purrfect catch, p.1
Purrfect Catch, page 1
Purrfect Catch
The Mysteries of Max 40
Nic Saint
Puss in Books
Contents
Purrfect Catch
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Excerpt from Between a Ghost and a Spooky Place (Ghosts of London 1)
About Nic
Also by Nic Saint
Purrfect Catch
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He’s gotta catch ‘em all!
When an overflying drone caught world-famous star of the silver screen George Calhoun cheating on his wife, the silver fox desperately tried to get his hands on the footage. Unfortunately the drone belonged to my human’s dad, who now found himself at the center of the perfect storm. Meanwhile, I was at the center of a different storm when I discovered I didn’t fit through the pet flap anymore. My suggestion to buy a bigger pet flap didn’t sit well with Odelia, and instead she took me to the vet, who put me on a diet and outfitted me with a state-of-the-art smart collar, capable of monitoring my vital signs and a whole lot more. And just when I thought things couldn’t any worse, they did!
Prologue
A deep sense of satisfaction spread through George Calhoun. It was the same satisfaction he remembered from his bachelor days—those wild days of yore when the gutter press had often referred to him as the world’s most eligible bachelor. But ever since he got hitched, not only was he no longer a bachelor, it was almost as if the world had forgotten about him.
The tabloids had stopped writing about him, the paparazzi had stopped chasing him, and, most importantly, the girls had stopped lavishing him with their attentions and had redirected their interest elsewhere. Young whippersnappers like Timothée Chalamet or Tom Holland were now the talk of the town, and of George Calhoun they only spoke with mild mockery, as if he was the ultimate has-been. Nothing but a punchline at parties.
Once upon a time he’d been the leader of the rat pack, a group of young up-and-coming men who were infamous for their wild parties, with no woman safe from their flirtatious ways or roving eye. Often were the times when he woke up in a strange bed, next to an unfamiliar but gorgeous babe, and couldn’t remember how he got there.
And now, thanks to a twist of fate, once more he was reliving his glory days. He smiled at the voluptuous blonde who lay next to him by the pool. They’d just made love like animals in heat, and he felt exhausted but sated. This old dog still had it. He hadn’t forgotten how to satisfy a woman and make her cry out in satisfaction.
“Hey, you,” he now said lazily as he enjoyed the sun beating down on his naked self.
“Hey, yourself,” she purred, and as he admired her features, she rearranged them for his full benefit.
“Was it as great for you as it was for me?” he asked, putting that seductive tone in his voice for which he’d been so famous once upon a not so long ago.
“Oh, Georgie, it was magical!” she said and moved closer to him.
They shared a kiss that started out chaste but gradually became a little less so. And soon he was ready for round two, or was it round three? Frankly he’d lost count.
His wife was out with the twins, and he’d given the staff the afternoon off, so he and Tammy had the place to themselves. The pool was cool and inviting, but Tammy even more so, and then once again he threw caution to the wind and gave himself up to her sultry wiles and ear-splitting moans.
No one had ever expected him to settle down and get married, much less produce offspring, but that was exactly what had happened. When he met the smart and very attractive Anna, who was a successful barrister in London, it had taken him a lot of work to persuade her he wasn’t just another hot-shot Hollywood star, but that he was actually serious about her. And he was. Still to this day he worshipped the ground she walked on. But she was now the mother of his kids, and they’d settled down in the sort of routine he’d abhorred all his life, and so when the opportunity presented itself to engage in some friskiness with a hot neighbor, he’d found it hard to resist. He now considered it a present to himself for being such a devoted husband and father. And of course he almost felt as if he needed to prove to himself that he still had it. And obviously he did. In spades! At least if Tammy’s loud whimperings were any reference. Good thing his closest neighbor was two hundred yards away, safely obscured from view behind a tall perimeter fence.
And as he gave himself up to reliving the sins of his ill-spent younger years, suddenly he became aware of a familiar sound. It was a sound he’d become accustomed to from living in LA, but out here in the Hamptons it was the first time he’d ever encountered it.
And as he glanced up at the clear blue sky, shielding his eyes from the blazing sun, that’s when he saw it: a drone, hovering directly over him and Tammy!
He inwardly cursed, and immediately realized the pickle he was in. For it was exactly this kind of drone the paparazzi liked to employ to snap compromising shots of unsuspecting celebrities and sell them to the highest bidder.
Tammy, who’d become aware of his diminishing involvement, now also glanced up, and when she spotted that same drone, cursed even louder than he did.
“Look away,” he advised immediately. “As long as they don’t get your face on camera…”
“Too late, Georgie,” she said ruefully. “Looks like they’ve got some great footage.”
And as he got up with some effort—he’d recently suffered a back hernia—one of the many things that reminded him he wasn’t the man he used to be—he picked up a rock and threw it at the drone, hoping to knock the darn thing straight out of the sky.
Immediately the drone banked, and then flew off, but presumably not before snapping another few choice images of the famous George Calhoun, his manhood on display, engaging in relations with a woman who was very obviously not his wife.
“Dammit,” he said as he watched the pesky drone fly off. Then he repeated the same phrase, but only with more heat and more vigor, shaking a fist at that searing blue sky.
Some men, when they search out the company of their friends, like to go fishing. Other men watch football on as big a screen as they can afford, enjoying beer and wieners in the process. Still other men buy themselves expensive toys to show off. And it was in this latter category that Tex Poole firmly belonged. The small-town doctor had recently become the proud owner of a drone, and now felt the need to show it off to his son-in-law and his brother-in-law. After all, why else would you buy an expensive useless gadget?
And so it was that Tex, equipped with his spanking new drone, complete with FAA license, his local permit fees paid in full, found himself in their local park with Chase and Alec, to demonstrate the benefits of his drone. It was one of those state-of-the-art drones, with top-of-the-line camera, that you can use to photograph the area from an angle which hitherto was only reserved for birds or the owners of small planes. He had installed an app on his tablet, and as he launched the drone up in the air, the three men stood staring in awe how the drone captured the world below with crystal-clear, HD-quality imagery.
“Amazing,” Chase commented as the drone flew over the park, and sent some very nice footage of the tops of the trees back to the three men huddled around Tex’s tablet.
“Such a clear picture,” said Alec. He’d suggested they take advantage of the drone’s maiden voyage to spend an afternoon at the beach… Until he discovered that their local beaches were off-limits for Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, as drones are officially called, between Memorial Day and Labor Day. And as Chief of Police, it behooved Alec to follow the rules. Still, when the drone now moved a little lower, and two scantily-dressed ladies came into view who were enjoying a little sunshine, Alec appeared a little overexcited.
“We’re not going to use this revolutionary new technology to ogle the ladies, Alec,” said Tex censoriously, and instead steered his drone inland, away from the park.
“Yes, Alec,” Chase chimed in. “What is Charlene going to say?”
“I was just checking to see if they were applying sunscreen,” Alec sputtered.
“Sure you were,” said Tex as he intently watched the screen, to gauge where his drone was now flying. It looked as if the nifty little gadget was hovering over a large villa or mansion, and as soon as a pool came into view, he knew he was probably looking into the backyard of one of the movers and shakers the Hamptons are so rightly famous for.
“Will you look at this place,” said Alec with a whistle. He was of course intimately familiar with the goings-on in their cozy little community, but even he was often surprised by the kind of wealth that was on display in their corner of the world.
“I’ll bet that’s Steven Spielberg’s place,” said Chase as he tapped the tablet.
“Please don’t touch the screen,” Tex lamented as the image immediately zoomed in on the spot Chase
“Sorry, Dad,” said Chase with a grin. The cop was not a native of Hampton Cove, but had lived there long enough to realize that looking into the backyard of a member of the local economic or cultural elite was not a good idea, considering privacy laws and such, so he added, “Better move along. We don’t want to get this guy’s lawyers on our ass.”
“Uh-huh,” said Tex as he fiddled with the controls. He was still a little uncertain as to what the exact procedure was to make the drone adhere to his command, and as he pressed this on-screen button then that, the pool, on which Chase had inadvertently zoomed in, proved to be the scene of some strenuous activity of a very frivolous nature.
“Are they…” said Alec as he frowned at the image on the tablet, which now focused on the couple lying next to the pool.
“Looks like they are,” said Chase, his infectious grin widening.
“Um, how do I make it move away from there?” said Tex, as the drone wouldn’t budge, no matter which button he touched.
But both Chase and Alec were too busy staring at the scene to offer him any advice. For the imagery displayed on the tablet was straight out of some X-rated movie, with both man and woman completely devoid of garments, and locked in a very tight embrace.
“Oh, dear…” said Tex as he, too, was now consumed with the footage as it played out before his eyes. Now Tex, being a doctor, was intimately familiar with the human anatomy, but even he had to admit that these were two prime specimens of the human race. The man was gray-haired but had clearly done his utmost to stay in fine physical shape, and the woman was one of those pneumatic blondes with assets that sent the blood pressure of the three men skyrocketing into the danger zone. And like three naughty boys, they sat there staring at the Kama Sutra demonstration with red ears and even redder cheeks.
Until finally Tex cleared his throat and said, “I think we better move along, guys.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” said Alec slowly.
And then, all of a sudden, the gray-haired man must have become aware that he was being watched, for he glanced up, straight into the camera of the overflying drone.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Chase. “That’s George Calhoun!”
“And that lady definitely is not Anna Calhoun,” Alec grunted.
“Okay, so how do I make it fly away?” asked Tex as once again he was helplessly fiddling with the controls. He should have stayed safely in the park, he now realized, like all the regulations advised. Instead, he’d probably broken about a dozen privacy laws.
The man in the picture, who was indeed the famous silver fox George Calhoun, hero of so many great movies, and also happily married father of twins, now picked up a rock and threw it at Tex’s drone, a clear sign he wasn’t all that happy with this sudden intrusion.
“Have you tried this button?” asked Chase, as he pressed one of the jiggly little controls on the screen. Immediately the drone responded and flew on, leaving the irate actor and his girlfriend behind, with George staring up at the drone in helpless rage.
The three men now shared a look of significance and even as Tex heaved a sigh of relief, Alec said, “I think we better don’t mention this to anyone, fellas.”
“My lips are sealed,” Tex wholeheartedly agreed.
“If anyone found out that George Calhoun is cheating on Anna…” said Chase, as he shook his head.
“So it’s agreed?” asked Tex. “This never happened?”
And then the three men shook hands. George Calhoun might be a cheat and a lousy husband, but as far as Tex was concerned, his secret was safe.
The incident had passed, and his drone was still intact, and so was his legal position.
Luckily there was no way George could ever find out who this particular drone belonged to, since he probably hadn’t been able to see the registration number printed on the side. And so as he managed to steer his nifty gadget back to the park, to take in more innocent landscapes, this time devoid of cheating Hollywood stars, Tex knew that his purchase would give him many hours of enjoyment in the weeks and months to come.
1
Even though generally speaking my life hasn’t exactly been a bed of thorns, there are still things I experience from time to time that every cat the world over dreads. And one of those things is a visit to the vet. As a rule, Odelia, my human, knows and respects my absolute abhorrence of vets and only schedules a visit when she has no other recourse. But at least once a year she takes us for a visit anyway, just to see if everything is in order.
“It’s just like with a car, see?” Gran explained this concept to me. “You need to get your car inspected once a year, even though it’s still running just fine, and isn’t leaking any oil and the engine isn’t making any strange noises. The same goes for cats, or even humans. I go to the doctor once a year, or the dentist, and so should you. Just in case there’s something wrong, so you can get ahead of the disease. It’s called preventive healthcare.”
It all sounded very suspicious to me. For one thing, cats aren’t cars. We don’t lose oil, and our engines don’t sputter or make strange noises, unless you like to call our purring a strange noise, and in a sense it is, but not indicative of disease but of satisfaction. And secondly, since cats aren’t humans either, why would we go to a doctor when we’re not sick? It doesn’t make sense. But then a lot of things humans do fall into that category.
“But I don’t want to go to the vet, Max,” said Dooley, who shares my dim view of vets.
“It’ll be fine,” said Brutus, our butch black friend. “We’re the picture of health, so Vena is bound to take one look at us and tell Odelia to come back next year.”
“I don’t know, beautiful,” said Harriet, Brutus’s white Persian girlfriend. “Have you seen Max lately?”
They all looked at me now, and I frowned. “What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“Harriet is right,” said Brutus. “You have gained a lot of weight lately, Maxie baby.”
“No, I haven’t. If anything, I’ve lost weight. Lots of weight.” If there’s something I’m particularly sensitive about, it’s my weight. And that’s because I’m one of those cats with big bones, you see, and as a consequence I may look and feel just that little bit heavier than other cats, but it’s not something that can be remedied by dieting, which often seems to be the only solution Vena, our town’s go-to veterinarian, likes to suggest.
“Do you still fit through the pet flap?” asked Harriet, a look of concern on her face.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I fit through the pet flap, Harriet. Here, let me demonstrate how well I fit through the pet flap.”
The pet flap seems to have become some kind of gauge or measure of how big I am. And I have to admit, there was a time when I didn’t fit through the thing, but that’s because Tex, who built it, is a lousy handyman, and made it much too tight.
I proceeded to confidently stride up to the pet flap. But as I approached, I started to experience a niggling doubt. I don’t know if you’ve had this, but one moment you’re fine, while the next, and especially when people start to question your capacity to produce a certain result, suddenly doubt starts to creep in, and that thing that you could do with your eyes closed, so to speak, suddenly becomes a hurdle that seems unpassable.
And so as I walked up to that pet flap, suddenly I wondered whether I did fit through the thing. But then I remembered distinctly how I’d fit through it just the day before. And I smiled and was at peace again. Until I approached a little closer still, and suddenly doubt reared its ugly head once more. Was it the day before… or the week before? Or even last month? I now seemed to remember I’d been using the kitchen door a lot lately, or even the sliding glass door in the living room, as Odelia often leaves it open for us.
