Animal Whisperer: Take Back My Life and Love Chapter 22: Poison In The Kitchen

Marilyn’s eyes flickered before she quietly withdrew.

Jacob inhaled the aroma of the meal and sighed. "After all those years abroad, nothing beats a proper Dracovian breakfast."

He picked up his fork, ready to dig in.

Nancy’s voice cut sharp. "Call the police. Now."

"There’s something in that food."

The fork clattered to the floor.

"What?" Jacob bolted upright, backing two meters away from the table.

The chat scrolled with sneers.

"This script is hilarious. Foreign actor, rented mansion, fake drama—solid production value."

"Go on then, really call the cops. Let’s see them play police too."

But Jacob did call. "Hello? Police? Someone’s trying to poison me."

The stream erupted in shock.

"Wait… he actually called?"

"No way they’d fake police, right? That’s insane."

"Could she really understand the cat?"

Curiosity held the audience in place. Viewership shot past five hundred.

Wiping cold sweat from his brow, Jacob asked, "Ms. Nancy, what is going on?"

Nancy, still perched on her little stool in the Desert Habitat, explained, "Chonky never kicked your dishes out of spite. She was stopping you from eating. Marilyn’s been lacing your meals."

Jacob frowned. "How would Chonky know that?"

Nancy unscrewed a bottle of water. "At night, when you slept, she used to sneak out to meet that orange tom. One night she caught Marilyn in the woods. Someone handed her a bottle and told her to put it in your food."

Jacob’s brows knit tighter. "So that’s why she flipped the plates…"

Nancy dabbed her sweaty forehead with a towel. "You have a key to Marilyn’s room?"

Jacob nodded. "I do."

"Check the second shelf of her closet. There’s a plastic eye-drop bottle there. That’s the poison."

Her breath was short from exhaustion; even this light work drained her frail body.

Jacob sprang up. "I’ll wait outside her door with the police."

Then he glanced back at her pale, fragile face. "Are you alright?"

Nancy shook her head lightly. "Just an old illness. I’ll be fine after a rest."

The sight made Jacob’s chest tighten. A real animal communicator—too rare to risk losing. He still had a bigger request for her, once this was over.

He carried the phone with him, keeping the stream alive, and hurried downstairs.

The police arrived swiftly—two officers at the villa gate.

"You’re the caller?"

"Yes. Someone’s poisoning my meals."

Jacob led them straight to the maid’s quarters.

The door opened, and Chonky darted inside at once. She stood on her hind legs, clawing at a cabinet door. "Officers, the poison’s here!"

Her plaintive mew echoed. "But it’s too heavy for me to open."

Jacob scooped her up. "Stay back, sweetheart. It’s dangerous."

The officers exchanged a glance at the cat’s strange behavior. One pulled the door open.

There it was: a plain plastic eye-drop bottle on the second shelf.

Chonky batted her paw toward it insistently. "That one!"

Gloved hands lifted the bottle.

The older officer frowned at the clear liquid. "Looks harmless. Let’s test for metals."

His partner pulled out a handheld detector, scanning the contents.

Thirty seconds later—beep, beep, beep!

The alarm screamed.

The senior officer’s expression hardened. "Thallium. The levels are off the charts."

Jacob blinked. "Thallium? What is that?"

The younger officer explained, "A heavy metal. Colorless, tasteless, dissolves easily in food and drink. Prolonged ingestion first causes hair loss, fatigue, tingling in the limbs…"

He paused grimly. "Then dementia. Organ failure."

The older officer added, "Back in the day, thallium was sold as rat poison."

Jacob yawned—then froze as the words hit him like ice.