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

had gone round to talk to all the cat owners she knew, and regale the story of the latest catnappings, and the power of the tracker, and had sold Wilbur one.

“You guys really did us a great service,” Kingman said, and Shanille chimed in, along with Buster, and some of the other cats, who all stood around in a circle, discussing the benefits of their new and wonderful devices. “If it hadn’t been for you to allow yourselves to be taken,” Kingman continued, “we’d all be at risk of abduction and wouldn’t even have known it!”

“You’re heroes,” Buster exclaimed. “Actual heroes and role models for the rest of us.”

And much to my surprise, suddenly a round of applause broke out, muted of course, as it’s hard to really make noise when your paws are equipped with soft pink pads.

“You guys,” said Harriet with mock modesty. “It was a big sacrifice we made, that’s true, but we did it for the good of the whole community. And frankly if I had to do it all over again I would—of course I would!”

“Oh, Harriet, you’re such a blessing to this community,” Shanille gushed.

And since it looked like this sudden outpouring of affection could go on for a little while longer, I decided to remove myself from the scene.

“They really seem to be happy with their trackers, aren’t they, Max?” said Dooley.

“A little too happy if you ask me,” I grunted.

“Why do you think that?”

“Who wants their humans to know where they are twenty-four seven, Dooley? I certainly don’t. We probably have the best human in the world, but even she doesn’t need to know where we go or what we are up to all the time.” I gestured to Kingman and Shanille and the others. “Can you imagine what Father Reilly and Wilbur Vickery and Fido Siniawski and the other cat owners are going to say when they discover that their precious darlings are out all night, roaming the streets and generally having a great time? I’m pretty sure…”

But before I could finish my sentence, suddenly we heard a car pull up to a nearby curb, and a car door slam, then hurried footsteps proceeding in our direction. Moments later Father Reilly appeared, looking stricken and annoyed, his phone in his hand as he darted intermittent glances at his phone and then at his surroundings. When finally his eyes landed on Shanille, he cried, “Shanille! There you are! Oh, darling, I was worried sick about you! What has gotten into you to stray so far from the parish! Let’s go!”

“But…” said Shanille, looking up at her human with wide-eyed consternation. “But…”

“Let’s go, I said!” the priest exclaimed, and gave the rest of us cats a nasty look before scooping our choir director up in his arms and carrying her off with him!

“Carry on without me, you guys!” Shanille managed to shout, but then we heard that car door slam again, the car take off in a hurry, and our choir conductor was gone.

“What just happened?” asked Harriet.

“I think Father Reilly never fully realized what Shanille was up to at night,” I explained, “and now that he has, thanks to her tracking device, it’s obvious he doesn’t fully agree with her nocturnal escapades.”

More cars were pulling up nearby, and more car doors slammed, and the sound of humans talking amongst themselves could be heard, their voices carrying far in the night’s silence. They were approaching, and before long they were upon us, all looking startled and surprised that so many cats would have gathered at the park’s playground.

Buster’s human was there: Fido Siniawski, the hairdresser, and Kingman’s human, Wilbur Vickery, and Norberto Beachhead, the electrician, who’s Misty’s human, and Franklin Beaver, the hardware store owner and Shadow’s human. Garvin Chanting appeared—he’s a landscaper and Missy’s human—and I could probably go on for a little while. Suffice it to say that all of Hampton Cove suddenly appeared to have discovered our hiding place, and before long they’d all swooped down and took off with their cats.

All of them had their phones glued to their hands, and their eyes glued to their tracking apps, brought to the park by the beep-beeping insistence of the software. And so the playground quickly emptied out, and soon only myself, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus were left! The others had all been collected by their respective human owners, and taken away in their cars to safe havens scattered all across town.

“Looks like cat choir has been canceled,” said Brutus finally, stating the obvious.

“I hate this tracker!” said Harriet. “I wish it had never been invented!”

“It’s a fine device,” I said, “but maybe someone should have warned our friends that there are two sides to wearing a tracking device: it provides safety in case of a catnapping, but it also takes away every notion of privacy, unfortunately.”

“Get it off me, Max!” Harriet cried. “I don’t want it anymore! I don’t want our humans to follow us around all the time!”

“I’m afraid it takes a human to remove it,” I said.

“I could gnaw it off,” Brutus suggested.

“Oh, please do, smoochie poo,” said Harriet.

“I wouldn’t do that that if I were—”

There was a sudden spark and a soft pop and a loud yelp from Brutus, and then he was sitting back on his haunches and smoke was billowing from his mouth and ears.

“It’s an electronic device with a built-in battery,” I explained. “Best not to chew on it.”

“And now you tell me!” he cried indignantly.

Chapter 29

The next morning, bright and early, saw me and Dooley heading into town. The night had been relatively uneventful, apart from the tracking device business: Gran had shared the guestroom with her daughter, while Tex slept on the couch. It wasn’t an ideal situation, to be sure, but it was better than the alternative Tex had suggested, with Gran sleeping on the couch. Odelia and Marge had argued that they couldn’t very well let an old woman sleep on the couch, and Tex had finally seen