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

gone missing,” I said, wanting to get off the topic of Wilbur and onto the topic I was really interested in.

“Her name is Chouchou,” Dooley supplied helpfully. “And she’s a Maine Coon.”

“She’s a member of cat choir but after last night’s rehearsal she didn’t come home.”

“Probably out on a toot,” said Kingman knowingly. “You know how it is. A couple of us like to hit the town after cat choir, and this Chouchou of yours must be just like that.”

“She doesn’t sound like a party-loving cat to me, Kingman,” I said.

“More like a peace-and-quiet-loving cat,” Dooley added.

“What does she look like?” asked Kingman with a slight frown.

“White with red stripes across her face.”

“She’s very pretty,” said Dooley. “In an understated sort of way.”

“Very pretty, eh?” said Kingman, rubbing his whiskers thoughtfully. “Mh.”

Kingman knows pretty. In fact I’m willing to bet that Kingman probably knows every cat who scores more than a five or a six on his personal prettiness scale.

“I think I know the cat you’re talking about,” the large cat finally said. “Chouchou. Yeah, definitely rings a bell. Mousy kind of feline, right?”

“Chouchou is not a mouse, Kingman,” said Dooley with a laugh. “She’s a cat!”

“Yeah, even a cat can be mousy, Dooley.”

“They can?” asked Dooley, much surprised.

“Sure. Just like a mouse can be catty, a cat can be mousy.”

“Huh,” said Dooley with a frown as he processed this startling new information.

“So have you seen her or haven’t you seen her?” I asked, wanting to get to the bottom of this missing cat business and move on. I’d been enjoying a leisurely time in Odelia’s office and wanted to return to my cozy little nook as soon as possible if you please.

But Kingman shook his head. “Can’t say that I have,” he said. “You see, Chouchou is not one of those cats that really stand out, if you know what I mean.”

“You mean she’s more like a cat who stands in?” asked Dooley.

“Not exactly,” Kingman replied with a grin. “And besides, you know how it is—cats go missing all the time. But they always come back.”

I didn’t enjoy my own line being quoted back to me, and I grimaced at this.

“And it’s not as if Chouchou is the only cat that’s gone missing lately. In fact I know of at least half a dozen who’ve suddenly disappeared. But do I look worried?”

Dooley studied Kingman closely. “You don’t look worried, Kingman,” he determined.

“And that’s because I’m not worried! Because cats always land on their feet!”

“So you have no idea where she could be?” I asked, not hiding my sense of disappointment. Usually Kingman is a fount of information, but today he was more like a fount of frustration, with his pleas to let Wilbur Vickery and Father Reilly back on the neighborhood watch, something I was pretty sure Gran would be dead set against.

“Sorry, fellas,” said Kingman as his eyes wandered in the direction of a petite Siamese who’d come walking along. “Can’t help you.” And it was clear our audience with our town’s feline mayor was at an end when he called out, “Trixie! Long time no see!”

So we decided to move on and soon were treated to a rare sight: our very own human, putting up flyers on lampposts, depicting the very cat we were looking for.

Chapter 3

Odelia had decided that the best thing she could do was to print out some flyers of Mrs. Bunyon’s missing cat and distribute these around Hampton Cove. And she’d just started doing this when she came upon her grandmother, who was sipping her usual hot cocoa in the outside dining area of the Star hotel, along with her friend Scarlett Canyon.

“I’ve got a job for you, Gran,” said Odelia as she placed a little stack of flyers in front of both ladies. “A cat’s gone missing, and I want you to put up these flyers for me.”

“Missing cat?” asked Gran with a frown as she glanced at the flyer. “I’m sorry, honey,” she promptly added as she handed the little stack back. “The watch doesn’t do missing cats.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Of course I’m serious. The watch takes care of the big stuff—serious crime—hardened criminals. Missing cats is not something we’ve got time for, I’m afraid.”

“Vesta, we could look into this one missing cat for Odelia,” said Scarlett, who was dressed to the nines in a nice little floral top, her red hair done up and her makeup tastefully applied. “I mean, it’s not like we’ve got anything else going on at the moment.”

“No, but we could have something else going on soon, and if we’re locked into this cat business we won’t have time for the other, more important stuff, now would we?”

“Just… do it already, will you?” said Odelia, who didn’t want to waste time standing around arguing with her recalcitrant grandmother.

And she placed the flyers in Scarlett’s hands, who took them gratefully, and said, “Don’t you worry about a thing, honey. We’ll take care of this for you.”

“Scarlett!” said Gran. “What are you doing?”

“Missing cats are part of the watch’s mission statement, or didn’t you get the memo?”

“What memo? What mission statement?”

Scarlett grinned. “Okay, so there’s no memo, but I think finding missing pets definitely should be part of our mission statement.”

“Oh, all right,” Gran grumbled. “But if the big one hits and we’re too busy looking for this… Chouchou of yours, I’m going to blame you.”

Just then, Max and Dooley came trotting up. “We just talked to Kingman,” said Dooley, “and he says at least half a dozen cats have gone missing, but he’s not worried, because cats always land on their feet.”

“Half a dozen cats?” said Odelia.

“What did he say?” asked Scarlett.

“That more cats have gone missing,” said Gran.

“At least half a dozen,” Dooley reiterated. “But he’s not worried and so neither should we. Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Absolutely,” said Max, though the large blorange cat did look slightly worried.

“Kingman thinks that these missing cats went on a toot and they’ll be back soon.”

“Cats don’t go on toots,”