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“Well, I’m off!” Nan trilled, heading back out my bedroom door with Paisley yapping at her heels.

I sat sipping my coffee and thinking about what I wanted to accomplish with my day. Saturdays used to be my favorite, but now that I was self-employed every day was both a work day and a vacation—not a good vacation, but rather the kind that happened when I didn’t have enough to keep me busy on the job.

Sigh.

“Morning, shrimpy.” Octo-Cat appeared in the doorway seeming rather pleased with himself.

I raised one quizzical brow.“Why shrimpy?”

“Why not? Humans call each other sweetie, sugar, and honey, so I figured I’d try calling you after a foodI like.”

Given that my cat loved shrimp to an inhuman degree, I was very touched—and also glad that no one else could hear him calling me this strange new nickname.

A smile spread between his whiskers as Octo-Cat luxuriated in a long sunbeam that had stretched lazily across the bedroom floor. He looked really happy.

…too happy.

“May I help you with something?” I asked, suddenly very suspicious.

He did a crazy-looking cat yoga pose and then jumped up onto the bed beside me.“I thought you’d never ask.”

Uh-oh.

“Since we don’t have any active cases right now, I figured this would be a good time for you to drive me to Grizabella’s for a visit.”

I almost choked in shock.“But she lives in Colorado. That’s a really long car ride. And besides, how would I explain such a trip to her owner?”

“Christine isnot her owner,” my cat said emphatically. “We both know the cat’s always the one in charge.”

“Fair point.”

Octo-Cat shook his head in disappointment, then whipped his face back toward me. A sneaky smile stretched from furry cheek to furry cheek.“As for Christine, I’m sure you’ll think of something during the long drive over.”

His piece said, the tabby lifted his tail high, then turned to leave.

“Wait,” I called before he’d made his exit.

Octo-Cat peeked back over his shoulder.“Yes?”

“I don’t think we can manage a trip to see Grizabella right now.”

“Why not? It’s not like you have any work to do.”

He had me there.“I just don’t think—”

“No, it has nothing to do with thinking. The truth isyou don’t want to, but next Friday is Valentine’s Day and I haven’t seen my gorgeous Grizz since Thanksgiving week.”

I sat higher in bed, hoping the change in posture might render me more convincing in my deceit. I supported Octo-Cat’s relationship and wanted him to be happy, but this request was simply ridiculous.

“Yeah, it’s Valentine’s Day!” I practically shouted. “I already have plans with Charles.”

“No, you don’t.”

“How do you know I don’t?”

He heaved a giant breath.“When you’re sleeping, Pringle goes through your phone and reads everything to me.”

My heart dropped right into my stomach.“WHAT?! What’severything?”

He smirked.“You know, texts, emails, status updates, the works. And neither you nor UpChuck has mentioned any Valentine’s Day plans.”

I was stuck, stuck, so hopelessly stuck… but also very angry now. “You can’t just look at my private stuff!”

Octo-Cat chuckled.“You’re my human. There shouldn’t be any secrets between us.”

And with that he left.

I took another sip from my mug, but by now the coffee had grown cold. As much as I loved my bossy, overbearing feline, I just couldn’t rationalize an impromptu cross-country trip, especially when his girlfriend’s human had no idea I could talk to cats.

I needed to find a way out of this.

And I probably needed to change the passcode on my phone, too

Chapter Three

As much as I’d have liked to go back to sleep, the fresh coffee stains covering a good portion of my comforter made that inadvisable. Besides, I didn’t need to lend any credence to Octo-Cat’s argument that I should take him to see his Internet girlfriend all the way over in Colorado. He already claimed Idid nothing with my days, and sleeping through this one would prove that theory of his.

Hmm.

Maybe I could trick him with a made-up case to keep us both busy until he found a new idea to obsess over. Then again, he wasn’t the easiest cat in the world to fool. I could find a legitimate case before next Friday. Couldn’t I?

Already at a loss, I padded my way down to the second floor. Once there, I found Octo-Cat in his new bedroom, sitting right on top of the giant 140-gallon aquarium I’d recently caved and bought him.

Outfitted with richly colored silks and a baroque decorating scheme, my cat’s room was nicer than mine. It also kind of resembled an eighteenth-century Parisian brothel—or at least what I assumed one might look like.

An accurate comparison or not, I felt immensely out of place whenever I entered, which meant I mostly gave Octo-Cat his privacy. Not that he ever returned the favor.

Still, someone needed to feed his fish—and it was better if that someone didn’t find herself tempted to eat them every time the lid to their tank was opened.

“I’ve told you I can handle it,” my cat groused when I grabbed the canister of food flakes and twisted off the top.