La librairie des livres interdits

Marc Levy

Description

Meet Catnip Gray, the most unconventional house cat you'll ever encounter. Don't be fooled by his nonchalant demeanor - he's not your average feline. He sleeps until noon, prowls the night like a seasoned detective, feasts on birds, and couldn't care less about his human's antics. But there's more to Catnip than meets the eye.

Catnip Gray has a taste for Slim-Fast, and he's not just any ordinary pet. He runs a detective agency, and when a beautiful damsel in distress named Tabitha Davenport strolls into his life, loaded with sardines and a request for help, he can't resist the allure of a new case.

In this captivating novella, you'll be introduced to Catnip Gray and the enigmatic world of the Grays who own him. His astute observations of their peculiar lifestyle provide a unique perspective. Yet, his focus remains on unraveling the mystery surrounding Tabitha's cheating husband. As Catnip delves deeper into the investigation, he uncovers a web of deceit and lies, where murder, mayhem, and treachery intermingle in the intriguing realm of cats, mice, and birds.

Prepare for a twisting and puzzling adventure, as Catnip Gray unleashes his detective skills in a world where cats rule the night and secrets abound. Will he uncover the truth, or will the shadows of deception prove too dark to escape?

Excerpt:

Electra and I had swooned under the influence of the intoxicating air. After Fred's closed, we were a frisky pair hopping over trash cans, leaping up on fences, peering into windows, and laughing at human's silly attempts at lovemaking. We'd scream insults through the glass. "Really dude, more hair on your butt would drive her wild...Bite her ear you fool! Stop talking. More yowling …You call that thing a tail?"

We scampered off when a naked bear-looking man threw a house slipper at us. As we approached Tuna Boulevard, Electra suddenly darted out and an old sixty-seven Falcon sped up and sent her tumbling into a rosebush. It wrenched my heart watching my lover in death's bittersweet clutches as the rose's thorns pierced her flesh and teased me with their red petals and seductive scents. Roses were my and Electra's favorite flower to paw and nibble. I vowed to avenge Electra's death one day.

So as I stood at the edge of Tuna Boulevard, I got my eyes out for a yellow Falcon. Been watching for it for a year--waiting for my chance. I had all of my parakeets lined up in a row. The Falcon has a vinyl top. A crow told me he and his flock love splattering that top with a potent brand of bird poo. "It's old and soft as dog guts," the crow cawed. My plan called for me to sink my claws deep into that vinyl top and cause a lot of havoc.

I put one paw forward and stepped into the gutter when my ears picked up the whine of an old V8 motor. It sounded like a monkey with his tail caught in a meat grinder screaming a long, painful, "Eeeeeeee!" The guys at the Rat Trap Mechanic Shop said the noise meant loose belts, but the Falcon's fool owner likened the disquietude to a scream of death. He experienced many moments of perverse joy as he struck fear into the hearts of dogs, cats, and a few humans as he raced the falcon towards their poor souls. That Falcon had to be stopped.

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