The Mysteries of Max: Books 31-33 by Nic Saint (chrome ebook reader txt) 📗

I hesitated. “Do you think this person might have buried…” I cut a quick glance to Dooley, who stood eyeing me with wide-eyed concentration, “… something here?”

Clarice also took a sniff, then said with a frown. “All I can smell is human, not cat, so whatever is buried here is definitely not of a feline nature.”

“Phew,” said Chouchou. “For a moment there I thought our catnapper was also a cat killer.”

“A cat killer!” Dooley cried.

“Not a cat killer, Dooley,” I said. “The emphasis is on not.”

“But then what did he bury, Max?”

“I don’t know, Dooley,” I said. “

Why would a human head so deep into the woods, dump a couple of cats, then dig a hole? Assuming, of course, that this was the same person. It could very well have been two different people. At any rate, it all seemed very strange indeed. Now we all know that humans are a little strange, and that sometimes they do things for no discernible reason. But still, even by human standards this behavior was way out there.

But since I felt that our mission was completed, I decided that it was time to stage the happy reunion between Chouchou and Mrs. Kathleen Bunyon, so we gave a reluctant Clarice the go-ahead to act as our guide once more, and all eight of us made our way out of the woods, and consequently back to civilization. And when finally we arrived on the outskirts of town, we were all famished—except, of course, Clarice.

“This is where I leave you,” she said. “You can find your way home now, right?”

“Thank you so much, Clarice,” I said. “You did a good thing today.”

She eyed the five cats a little bleakly, and grumbled, “I’m not so sure about that.”

And before I could say any more, she suddenly disappeared into the undergrowth, presumably to see if James Patterson had found some more liver pâté he had no use for.

Chapter 6

Odelia felt happy that she was finally in a position to bring a ray of sunshine into a person’s life. And that was exactly what she anticipated to do just now, as she parked her car outside the home of the Bunyons, their precious fur baby in the backseat next to Max and Dooley, who were as proud as she was feeling that they’d made the impossible possible: in the space of only a couple of hours they’d found the missing cat and were about to deliver the missing Chouchou back to her proud owners.

“Great job, you guys,” said Odelia, not for the first time. “I’m pretty sure you just broke some kind of sleuthing record. I’ll have to call the Guinness Book of Records.”

“It wasn’t really us,” said Max deferentially.

“Yeah, Clarice did most of the work,” said Dooley.

“Who’s Clarice?” asked Chouchou.

“The scary cat who was with us when we found you,” Max explained.

“Oh, right,” said Chouchou, but clearly had no idea what he was talking about.

“This is a great day,” said Odelia, “and even though I can’t tell the Bunyons about the exact role you played in finding Chouchou, I’ll make sure they know you were involved.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” said Max. “I understand that you need to keep Mrs. Bunyon in the dark about us.”

“No, but I will tell her that you’re actually the ones who found Chouchou.” She turned to the Maine Coon. “Can you tell me again how you got out there?”

“Well, first I was snatched,” said Chouchou, “by some terrible catnapper person, and then I was put in a large bag, and then I was left in those woods to fend for myself.”

“That’s so terrible,” said Odelia feelingly. “Absolutely awful, Chouchou.”

“And then there was another person—or it could have been the same person—who was digging a hole and burying something.”

“I won’t tell Mrs. Bunyon about that,” said Odelia. “She might start to worry, and we don’t want her to worry unnecessarily.”

They all got out of the car, and Odelia rang the bell, instructing Chouchou to hide behind her for a moment, to make the surprise even bigger, and therefore the subsequent relief. “I want you to pay attention to the look on her face,” said Odelia with a smile. She felt a little like Santa Claus bringing tidings of joy and good cheer, and a bag full of presents.

The door opened, and a man appeared. He blankly stared at Odelia. “Yes?” he said.

“Mr. Bunyon?”

“Uh-huh. That’s me.”

“My name is Odelia Poole and your wife dropped by my office this morning, to ask me to look for your missing cat Chouchou?”

“Oh,” said the man blinkingly. “She did?”

“Yes, sir. And I’m happy to announce that I was successful, and I’ve found your precious baby for you.” And with these words, she stepped aside, and revealed Chouchou’s presence to Mr. Bunyon, her proud and happy owner. She didn’t exactly say ‘Ta-daaah,’ but the meaning was clear in her gesture.

But if she’d expected the man to yip with joy, she was disappointed. Rather than yip, he merely goggled at Chouchou, an expression on his face that was hard to read. It could have been stunned surprise, or it could have been dismay. “You did what now?” he said.

“Well, I found her,” said Odelia, then glanced down at Chouchou, then up at Mr. Bunyon again. “This is your cat, isn’t it?”

“Um…” said the man, and for a moment he seemed on the verge of denying being even faintly acquainted with Chouchou.

But then Kathleen Bunyon suddenly appeared in the door. “Who is it, Karl? Oh, hi, Miss Poole—Chouchou!” she screamed, and contrary to her husband she did seem overjoyed by this sudden re-emergence into her life of her precious pet. “Oh, my sweet, sweet, sweet little…” She picked Chouchou up and hugged her with extreme fervor.

Odelia watched the scene with a sense of relief, and a big smile on her face.

“Oh, Miss Poole—you found her!”

“Actually,” she said, launching into her rehearsed spiel, “my cats found her. Max and Dooley? Come