The Mysteries of Max: Books 31-33 by Nic Saint (interesting novels in english txt) 📕

and Shanille can’t get along, maybe you should start your own cat choir, with only the two of you as members. That way you can bicker and fight as much as you want, and you won’t stop the rest of us from having a good time.”

“But…” She looked from Max to Dooley to Brutus. “But but but…”

“Oh, there’s Shanille now,” said Max. “Well, I guess we’ll just leave you to it. But remember: the only way you can join our new cat choir is if you promise to behave.”

“But Max!”

But Max was off, followed by Dooley and… Brutus!

And then it was just Shanille and her.

Both cats stared at each other for a moment in awkward silence, sizing each other up, then Shanille said, “I guess they told you about their new cat choir?”

“Yeah, they just did.”

“And the fact that either we get along or we’re both out?”

“Yeah, can you believe that? I mean, you are cat choir, Shanille. Cat choir is nothing without you.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Cat choir is bigger than either of us, Harriet. Cat choir isn’t me, or you, or any of us. Cat choir is the whole community—all the cats of Hampton Cove. And frankly if they really decide to kick us out…”

And for the first time ever, Harriet saw that Shanille actually had tears in her eyes!

“Oh, sweetie,” she said. “Don’t be sad. We’ll just go to Max and talk to him together.”

“I know Max, Harriet. He isn’t kidding. I can tell.”

Yeah, frankly she’d had that impression herself. Max usually was such a laidback individual, but when things got rough he could be really tough. There had been a note of steel in his voice when he’d explained the rules of new cat choir to her, and he’d meant what he said: either they patched things up, or no more cat choir for either of them.

“Look, I think maybe we let things get a little out of hand,” she said finally.

“You think?” Shanille scoffed.

“But you can be so annoying, Shanille!”

“Oh, as if you’re not annoying, Harriet!”

They both glowered at each other for a few beats, then burst out laughing.

“What are we doing?!” Harriet cried.

“We’re idiots, both of us!”

“I’m the biggest idiot of all, though.”

“No, I’m the biggest idiot.”

“No, Shanille—I’m the biggest idiot!”

“Okay, fine. You win. You’re the biggest idiot, and I’m the second-biggest idiot.”

“Fair enough,” said Harriet, much sobered.

They were both silent for a moment, then Shanille said, “So how do you want to play this?”

“I say we go to Max and tell him that we reconciled.”

“Did we reconcile, though?”

Harriet gave her frenemy a warm smile. “Of course we did. Shanille, you know there’s no one I love to fight with more than you.”

“Aw, do you really mean that?”

“Absolutely. You’re my absolute favorite nemesis in the world.”

“And you’re my favorite nemesis.”

“But maybe we won’t tell Max about that part, all right?”

“No, I don’t think he’d understand.”

Somehow, though, Harriet had a feeling that he would.

Epilogue

“Okay, so spill, Max,” said Harriet. “Tell us how you figured it out, cause I gotta be honest with you—I do not understand anything!”

“Me neither,” Brutus grunted.

“It’s those two girls,” said Dooley.

“What two girls?”

“Jaime and Marje. They pulled my tail and they pulled my whiskers, and then they pulled my ears and poked my belly, and so I said no more. No more babies. So no more stork either. Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Absolutely, Dooley,” said Max, “though I don’t think that’s what Harriet was talking about.”

“Oh.”

“Odelia!” said Gran. “You have got to explain what happened, cause I don’t understand a thing!”

“Me neither,” Uncle Alec grunted irritably as he nursed a cold brewski.

We were in Marge and Tex’s backyard, with Tex manning the grill as usual, and providing us all with those delicious nuggets of grilled meats and veggies we all love and adore so much. Okay, so some of them were medium rare while others were rare, and still others were overdone, but let’s not nitpick. The fun of a barbecue is not the quality of the food, but the quality of the people present, right? And the quality of those present was nothing to be caviled at: the entire Poole clan, of course, expanded with Charlene and Scarlett. And on the cat side there was of course myself, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus.

“Okay, so what do you want to know?” I asked.

“Everything!” said Harriet. “Just take it from the top, Max, and don’t skip anything!”

“Fine,” I said. “So Franklin Harrison had come to the end of his rope, right? And he knew there was no way for him to redeem himself. His dad had cut him off, and had cut him out of his will, and so he was effectively stuck. Now you have to remember that this was a man who hadn’t worked a day in his life, and he didn’t intend to start working for a living now. And so he decided there was only one way out of this: by getting rid of his twin brother and making it look as if he was the victim. That way he could take Marvin’s place, and suddenly the bad twin had become the good twin, and he had the world at his feet again. I don’t have to explain to you that Franklin is not a good person. Never was.”

“He probably squished ants when he was little,” said Dooley.

“Only problem was,” said Odelia, who was telling the same story but to the human audience, “that he needed a fall guy, right? Someone to blame the murder on. And who better to blame than that loser Joshua Curtis, who’d been hounding him ever since he’d been foolish enough to start something with Melanie Myers? So Franklin set up a meeting with Joshua at the Parker Street house and arranged the rendezvous for eleven forty-five on the night of the murder, so making sure that the house wouldn’t have burnt down completely, and that Marvin’s body would still be more or less unblemished.”

“See, he didn’t want the police to have to check the