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

where we’d been dumped: and before our very eyes, five more cats came walking up. They were the exact same cats we’d helped save that very morning, chief amongst whom was… Chouchou!

“Looks like they caught us again,” said Chouchou in somber tones, “only now I think I know who took us.”

“Who?” I asked.

“My very own human,” she said, sounding down in the dumps. Nor could I blame her. If I discovered that Odelia was my catnapper, and had decided to leave me in the middle of nowhere, presumably hoping never to see me again, I’d be a little disappointed, too!

“Where did they grab you?” I asked.

“Same place they took us yesterday,” said one of Chouchou’s friends. “We’d just left cat choir and were walking along Main Street, when suddenly a car pulled up, and we were all grabbed and put in a bag, then dumped in the trunk of a car.”

“How do you know it was the trunk?” Brutus asked, always interested in the telling detail.

“Because the wheel of the car was right next to my ear,” said the cat. “And the only place where the wheel is right next to your ears is either the trunk or next to the engine. But since there isn’t enough space next to the engine, it must have been the trunk.”

“I like your thinking,” Brutus agreed.

“We must have been in the backseat, then,” said Harriet. “Of the same car that picked you up, for I didn’t hear no wheels.”

“The catnapper is getting more brazen,” I said. “Escalating. Last night he took five cats and tonight he took nine. That’s…” I made a quick calculation in my head. “Almost twice as many. If this keeps up he’ll take over a dozen tomorrow night.”

“It’s not a he, though, is it?” said Harriet. “If Dooley and Chouchou are correct, the catnapper is a woman!”

“So… why would your human grab us and then dump us?” I asked.

“Because she doesn’t like cats,” said Chouchou sadly. “Even though I always thought she was crazy about me.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” I said, shaking my head.

“I think she secretly hoped I wouldn’t come back,” said Chouchou.

“But then why ask Odelia to go and find you?”

Chouchou shrugged, then sighed. “At least this time we’ll be able to find our way home again.” She eyed me hopefully. “You do know the way home, don’t you, Max?”

“Um…” I said, glancing around.

But lucky for us, just then Odelia’s car suddenly turned up out of nowhere, the headlights of the aged pickup she still likes to drive sweeping across the clearing. She and Chase got out, and she seemed almost frantic with worry as she hurried over to where we were holding our impromptu meeting.

“You guys!” she cried. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

“No, we’re fine,” I said.

“We might be suffering from PTSD after being stuck inside a bag, though,” said Harriet, giving Odelia a not-so-happy look.

“I’m so, so sorry! By the time we realized what was going on, you were already traveling fifty miles an hour in this direction!”

“Bastard gave us the slip,” Chase grunted, looking disappointed.

“Well, at least we know who it is,” I said, and saw how Odelia’s worried expression morphed into one of suspense.

“Who? Who did this to you?”

“Mrs. Bunyon,” Dooley announced. “I clearly smelled her.”

“Me, too,” said Chouchou. She sighed. “My own human wants to get rid of me—can you imagine a sadder thing?”

Chapter 13

“So what is it you wanted to do?” asked Scarlett. The two neighborhood watch members were watching how Scarlett’s grandnephew was tapping on his laptop, pulling up weird-looking data on the screen and generally doing all kinds of complicated things. They were in the living room of the Poole residence, Marge and Tex having gone to bed.

“Don’t you worry about what I want to do,” said Vesta. “As long as Kevin knows what I want to do, that’s what matters.”

“Do you know what she’s talking about, Kev?” asked Scarlett.

Kevin, a string bean of a kid who, at sixteen, was already a full head taller than his great-auntie Scarlett, grinned and nodded. “Oh, absolutely, I know what Vesta wants. I’m not so sure she will like what she gets, though.”

“I’ll like it,” said Vesta. “What I want to know is if you can get me what I want.”

“I can get it,” said Kevin with the cocky self-assurance of a teenage computer nerd.

“And you’re sure they can’t trace it back to you?”

“Absolutely. I’m masking my IP address. If they try to find it they’ll end up in Hong Kong or Tokyo, depending on when they look.”

Scarlett shook her head. “All this for a new kitchen.”

“Hey, kitchens are important!” said Vesta. “We spend a large portion of our lives in our kitchens.”

“I thought that was the bedroom?” said Scarlett, quirking a perfectly penciled eyebrow.

Kevin glanced up at his auntie with a grin. “Isn’t it possible that you spend half your life in the bedroom, Auntie Scarlett, and Vesta spends half her life in the kitchen?”

“Shut up and keep working, you,” Vesta snapped, and Kevin shut up and directed his fingers to nimbly dance across the keyboard again, doing whatever it was he was doing. “Look, I want this kitchen, and Marge wants this kitchen. Now we just need to find a way to make Tex pay for this kitchen. And I’m pretty sure with this price he’ll never agree to pull his wallet, so we need to bring what he’s willing to pay and what Fred Kramer of Kramer Kitchen Kreation is asking closer together. Is that so hard to understand?”

“Um,” said Scarlett, skeptical still, “you know when you told me you had a very important mission for the neighborhood watch planned, and you needed Kevin’s help, I never expected you were going to try to rip off the Kitchen King’s outfit.”

“Look, the Kitchen King is rich enough. He’s not going to miss a couple of bucks.”

“This is weird,” suddenly Kevin muttered.

“What is?” asked Scarlett, her heart rate suddenly spiking. Somehow whenever she and Vesta