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

“What did he say?” asked Scarlett, trying to read Dooley’s lips and failing.

“That Kingman says the missing cats have gone on a toot.”

“Do cats go on toots?”

“No, they don’t. Cats don’t drink,” said Gran. “So correct me if I’m wrong, but if half a dozen cats have gone missing, shouldn’t the police be out looking for them?”

“The police aren’t interested in missing cats,” said Scarlett. “They’ve got better things to do—just like you, by the way, Vesta.”

Gran had the decency to pull a remorseful face. “Okay, so maybe you were right.”

“Can you please repeat that?” asked Scarlett, placing her hand to her ear.

“You were right, all right?!”

“This is a momentous occasion,” said Scarlett, giving Odelia a wink. “Vesta Muffin admitting she was wrong.”

“I didn’t say I was wrong. I just said you were right. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, and Kingman says Wilbur and Father Reilly want to rejoin the watch,” said Max.

“No way in hell,” Gran growled.

“What did he say?” asked Scarlett, starting to look a little frustrated.

“Wilbur and Francis want back on the watch.”

“No way in hell,” said Scarlett, a rare frown marring her smooth brow.

“That’s what I said!”

“So what do you want us to do?” asked Max. “About Chouchou, I mean?”

“I want you to keep looking,” Odelia instructed. “Meanwhile I’ll drop by the police station and see if they’ve received any of these missing cats reports. If they all went missing around the same time we just might have a catnapper on our hands.”

“A catnapper!” Dooley cried.

“Better ask the people from the shelter, too,” said Gran. “They may have hired some overzealous newbie, who goes around picking up any and all pets that are roaming free.”

“But I don’t want to be napped!” said Dooley, much disturbed. “I don’t think I’d like it.”

“You’re not going to get napped, Dooley,” said Max reassuringly. Then, turning to Odelia, he added, “We’re on the case. If those cats were nabbed, we’ll find them for you.”

Gran shook her head. “People kidnapping cats. What is the world coming to?”

Chapter 4

Dooley and I decided to go a little farther afield. We’d already covered the downtown area, and since Odelia was taking charge there, along with Gran and Scarlett, it didn’t seem necessary for us to stick around. Instead I decided to follow a crazy hunch: our primary source of information might be Kingman, but we had more contacts we hadn’t yet exhausted. And one of those contacts was our old friend Clarice.

“Maybe we can ask Clarice?” said Dooley now, obviously on the same wavelength.

“And how do you figure that?”

“Well, if Chouchou and those other missing cats would have stayed around the downtown area, Kingman would have seen them, wouldn’t he? And so maybe they’ve gone to the woods, and if anyone knows those woods like the back of her paw, it’s Clarice.”

I smiled. It’s always nice to see your own ideas reflected in the cats closest to you. So I patted my friend on the back, and said, “Let’s go pay a visit to Clarice, then.”

“But… where will we find her, Max?”

Now that’s one of those problems facing any cat looking for our feral friend: Clarice is one of those cats that don’t have a fixed abode. Whenever we need to talk to Kingman, we always know where to find him, and the same goes for our other friends. Clarice, on the other hand, likes to roam wild and free, and since like most cats she doesn’t have a cell phone, it can be tough to pin her down.

“Let’s start with the back alleys,” I said therefore, since Clarice doesn’t like to depend on a human for her nourishment, and does her hunting and gathering all by herself.

And so we proceeded in the direction of those back alleys that Clarice likes to prowl, looking for her meal of the day.

The first alley was a bust, and so was the second one, but when we passed through the third alley, we hit pay dirt.

“Don’t tell me you guys are looking for a bite to eat,” said Clarice when we found her underneath a nearby dumpster.

“Clarice!” I said with a start. That cat never ceases to startle me.

“We’re not looking for food,” said Dooley. “We’re looking for Chouchou and the others.”

“Who’s Chouchou and the others?” asked Clarice. “Some new girl band?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “Chouchou is a Maine Coon, and she’s recently gone missing, and so have a couple of other cats.”

“Missing, huh?” said Clarice, emerging from underneath the dumpster. She started to lick her claws with customary languidness. But don’t let her seemingly laid-back air fool you: she can lash out as quick as a cobra, and her nails are amongst the sharpest I’ve ever seen. Good thing she never uses them on us—and I hope she never will!

“Yeah, a woman came into Odelia’s office this morning,” I explained, “asking her to find her Maine Coon for her. Chouchou went to cat choir last night but never came home.”

“I always knew cat choir was bad business,” Clarice growled. As usual, she looked a little wild. Her mottled fur was missing in patches, and there was a fresh scratch across her nose that hadn’t been there the last time I saw her.

“I don’t think cat choir is to blame for Chouchou’s disappearance,” I said, not wanting her to get the wrong idea.

“Stay away from crowded places,” Clarice advised somberly. “That’s where you stand the most chance of being infected.”

“Infected by what, Clarice?” asked Dooley, interested in this novel theory.

“Anything! Any bug that goes around will focus on the places where plenty of cats are gathering, jump over on you the moment you set paw in those surroundings and zap!”

“Zap!” Dooley cried, jumping a foot in the air.

“It’ll hit you so fast you don’t even notice before it’s too late.”

“But… do you think Chouchou and the others got zapped by a bug?”

“Sure! They’re probably dying in some corner right now, suffering terrible pains and dying a horrible and prolonged death. That’s what you