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

“Of course. All you have to do is knock out a wall, or better yet, two walls.” She pointed to the living room walls. “If you knock out that wall, and that one, you create one big space. And then you’ll have an open kitchen, with kitchen island, and you’ll also have a lot more light in here.”

“You’re right,” she heard herself say.

Ma’s jaw dropped. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re absolutely right.”

Ma smiled a beatific smile, which was a rarity for her. “I’m glad to hear you say it.”

They should have done it a long time ago. The living room, which was located in the center of the ground floor, didn’t get any light at all, and the sitting room, where they didn’t spend all that much time, got all the light, as did the kitchen.

“How much is this going to cost, though?” she asked, immediately putting a damper on these ambitious plans.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Ma suggested.

“Tex is going to—”

“Tex will be happy as a clam! He wants this as much as we do. He just doesn’t want to pay for it, even though he can easily afford it.”

“It would mean remodeling the entire downstairs,” Marge pointed out.

“So? You only live once, Marge. And didn’t you tell me when you moved in that this was the original plan all along?”

“It was,” Marge admitted ruefully.

“So why not finally put it in motion?” Ma got up. “This is the way to go, honey, and you know it as well as I do. Now all you need to do is convince that Scrooge husband of yours to take out his checkbook and get this show on the road.”

“Where are you going?” she asked as Ma grabbed her purse from the table.

“Better don’t ask,” said her mother curtly.

“Better don’t ask what?”

“Exactly,” said Ma with a slight grin, then skedaddled before Marge could ask more.

“You’re not going to pull any crazy stunts, are you?!” she yelled after her aged but sprightly mother, but the only reply she got was the door being slammed shut. “Oh, dear,” she said, then glanced at that mockup on the screen again. It did look pretty wonderful, she thought, but only with the addition of a kitchen island. And bigger cupboards. And more of them, too. And maybe even a second kitchen island. And for once in her life she had to agree with her mom: if they could pull this off, they’d all be a lot happier, and could live a lot roomier. Now all that needed to be done was to convince Tex.

Chapter 11

We’d arrived at cat choir, and I have to admit I wasn’t feeling entirely sanguine about the plan Odelia had outlined. But she was right: what could possibly go wrong? Nothing!

Cat choir was where all the cats that had been taken had set out from, and from there they’d roamed around the downtown area, at which point they’d been taken, so this was the exact route and timetable we’d adhere to, hoping we’d get taken, too. Yikes!

“I just wish Clarice was here,” said Dooley. “She wouldn’t be scared like we are.”

“I’m not scared,” said Brutus, always the butch cat.

“You look scared.”

“Well, that’s just your imagination, Dooley,” said our friend. “Cause I’m not afraid of anything. In fact if you just stick close to me nothing will happen to you—I promise.”

“If you’re not afraid, Brutus,” said Dooley earnestly, “then why is your tail quivering?”

“My tail is quivering because I’m happy,” said Brutus, promptly tucking in his tail.

“Oh, just admit it, Brutus,” said Harriet, “you’re just as nervous as the rest of us.”

“I am not!” said Brutus, managing to sound indignant.

Cat choir was happening as it always does: in a boisterous way, with cats shooting the breeze, greeting each other as if they hadn’t seen each other in ages, even though we’d all met the night before, and some even that afternoon, like Kingman and us.

“What is that thing around your neck, Max?” asked that same Kingman now as he studied me intently.

“It’s a GPS tracker,” I said, and explained Odelia’s plan in great detail.

“A GPS tracker, huh?” he said, nodding. “Always wanted to get one of those myself, actually.”

“You did?”

“You never told us,” Harriet pointed out.

“Well, it’s just one of those cool hip things, isn’t it? In fact in this day and age of modern technology I think every cat should have a tracker. That way when something happens their owner can easily track them down. Isn’t that right, Shanille?”

Cat choir’s director had joined us, and was staring at Harriet’s collar. “Yeah,” she said after a moment’s pause. “Yeah, you’re absolutely right, Kingman.”

Harriet, who’d noticed that Shanille was eyeing her with a touch of envy, now thrust out her chest and lifted her chin, to make that tracker collar stand out even more. “Nice, isn’t it, Shanille? Top-of-the-line GPS tracker. It’s the latest fashion. With this cool little gizmo Odelia can find us anywhere, down to the inch. Isn’t that so, my precious angel?”

“Yeah, she can even hear what we say, and see what’s going on around us,” said Brutus.

“I don’t think she can,” I said, but Brutus quickly shut me up with a glance.

“Latest high-tech gadget,” said Harriet, shoving her collar in Shanille’s face. “All the It cats are wearing it these days. So where’s your tracker, Shanille?”

“I… don’t have one,” said Shanille, then added, “and I don’t need one. Father Reilly knows exactly where I am at all times. He doesn’t need a tracker to keep track of me.”

“Yeah, but what if you’re taken, like those other cats?” said Kingman. “A tracker would come in darn handy. In fact I think I’ll convince Wilbur to get me one of those.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Shanille sneered. “You’ll talk to him, will you?”

“I’ll ask Max to ask Odelia to tell Wilbur to get me one,” Kingman explained. “You’ll do me that little favor, won’t you, Max?”

“Oh, sure,” I said, suddenly feeling