by Molly Fitz
He pressed his lips in a thin line and made a harrumph sound. “Then that narrows our pool considerably. Since Ethel used our firm for her will, I should be able to get a copy. You’ll have to catch me up on all the key players and what we know about them so far, though, since this all happened before I moved to town.”
“Should we call Officer Bouchard and let him know?” Nan asked. She’d had a crush on this particular member of local law enforcement for close to a year now. Jeez. Between me and Nan, we were crushing on practically everyone in our small town. Not that either of us ever went out on any dates, but still.
Charles shook his head and frowned. “Let him know what? Unfortunately we haven’t got any proof.”
“You know what that means, then.” Nan pressed down hard on my knee and pushed herself back onto her feet. “We need to go find some.”
Chapter Eleven
Nan stayed back at the house while Charles and I headed to the law firm so we could grab a copy of Ethel’s will along with a list of its beneficiaries.
“There are like thirty people on this,” I said with a sigh as I ran through the lengthy legal document a second time. “How do we know which one took Octo-Cat?”
“Let’s make a list of addresses and last known contact info,” Charles suggested, pulling up a fresh document on his laptop. “Then we can probably eliminate anyone out of state and take things from there.”
“I’m going to see what I can learn about our suspects on social media, too.” I fished my phone out of my pocket and waved it between us with a mischievous grin. “People are amazingly transparent when they think nobody is paying attention. Maybe we’ll find out who’s unhappy about the will or having money problems. Someone’s gotta have a clear motive if we dig deep enough.”
“I like how your mind works. Have at it,” Charles said before turning his full attention toward his computer.
We passed a few hours in this way. I took a page from Nan’s book and placed color-coded marks next to each name on the list of beneficiaries, depending on what we learned about that person and how likely it was they might be our catnapper.
“The blue checkmarks are for those people I remember seeing at the will reading,” I explained once we’d both completed our research. “Gosh, that feels like it happened forever ago.”
My life had changed astronomically since that day. I still remembered coming into the office and getting hounded by Thompson for not having on suitable attire. I borrowed a jacket from my friend Bethany, even though we weren’t quite friends yet at that point, then I got electrocuted by the coffee maker, woke up able to speak with Octo-Cat, and—boy—things really escalated from there.
Now I had a talking cat for my best friend, lived in one of the swankiest manor homes in the entire state, and was on the verge of opening up my own private investigation firm.
That is, once I got up the nerve to hand in my resignation notice to Charles.
I swallowed hard and continued walking him through my list of suspects. “The black X means either their profiles are set to private or I couldn’t find them. I drew the red circle next to the names of people I thought seemed suspicious or like they could kidnap a cat.”
“But almost everyone has a red circle,” Charles pointed out with a chuckle that sent a knife straight through me.
“Hey, don’t laugh. This is serious.” I glowered at him until he quieted down.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“What did you find?” I asked, hoping desperately that he’d narrowed down the pool a little better than I had.
“Well, only a handful live nearby, so they’re probably our most likely suspects.” He turned his computer toward me so I could see the list of names and addresses, which appeared to be organized by distance with those closest to us up at the top.
“Great,” I said, rising to my feet, ready to go. “Print that out for me, and I’ll swing by to check them out now. Wait, actually, I’ll just grab a picture real quick.”
I picked up my phone and navigated to my camera app, but Charles pushed his laptop lid down with a click.
“No, you won’t,” he said, keeping his hand firmly on the laptop as he waited for me to back down. Ugh, he was so irritating sometimes. “Whoever took Octo-Cat will definitely recognize you and probably Nan, too.”
“So, what?” I demanded, stomping my foot like the overdramatic teenager I once was. “I’m just supposed to do nothing?”
A smile lit up his handsome features, putting me at ease. “I didn’t say that. I’ll go and check things out myself.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I loved how he’d taken real ownership in this case, too. “Great, let’s go,” I said, reaching toward the laptop so I could snag a photo of those addresses.
Charles held up an index finger and wagged it at me. “No, Angie. You’re not coming. Trust me with this, okay? I want him back just as much as you do. I’m not going to mess this up. But I do have a court appointment this afternoon, so I’m not going to be able to check out these leads until after work.”
I hung my head and tried really hard not to sigh. I knew he was right, but it didn’t make the waiting any easier. “Thank you,” I murmured at last with great difficulty.
“You’re welcome,” Charles said. “Now, c’mon, let me take you back home. Maybe Pringle will have discovered something helpful while we were gone.”
One could only hope…
Of course, Pringle hadn’t found anything worthwhile in my absence and neither had Nan.
“I wonder what Ethel would have thought of all this hullabaloo if she were still alive to see it,” Nan drawled over dinner that evening. She’d busied herself by cooking up a storm in the kitchen, so dinner was a strange yet satisfying combination of dim sum, gnocchi, and empanadas.
“You would never kill me to get to my fortune,” Nan asked as she bit into a steamy dumpling and trained a wary eye on me. “Would you?”
I dropped my fork and stared at her, slack-jawed. Luckily, I’d just swallowed a mouthful of pasta, otherwise it would have fallen straight down onto the table. The things my nan said sometimes!
“Kidding,” she sang with a merry little titter. “Still, though. Poor Ethel. Betrayed by those she loved most, both in life and in death. She only wanted her beloved feline companion to live out the rest of his days in comfort, but that, too, has created difficulty. The old broad just couldn’t win.”
She shrugged and took another bite, chewing thoughtfully as we sat in silence. I understood why we were talking about the late Ethel Fulton, but it still made me tremendously sad—especially since in some ways, I was living her life now, or at least in her house. To think, even though Ethel had died with lots of money, it was clear she’d been missing something important in life.
Like love, family, respect.
Nan said nothing more about it, but the woman I’d seen only at her funeral last year remained solidly at the front of mind. I owed it to her to make sure her cat maintained his lavish lifestyle, that he was brought home safe and sound. So what if other people didn’t exactly understand.
I did, and this was my job. It was also something I cared deeply about and would fight to put right again.
Octo-Cat was coming home, no matter what it took.
Thankfully, updates from Charles started coming in via text shortly after we’d finished dinner. He messaged after each visit he made to one of Ethel’s heirs. At first his messages came relatively close together since he was visiting those who lived in our own Glendale, but eventually they became fewer and farther between.
I lay in bed with my phone beside me, eagerly awaiting each one.
Until I fell asleep.
I dreamt of the early days with Octo-Cat, back when we lived in that tiny rental he hated and were still finding our way around each other. I revisited all my favorite memories—like giving him his very own iPad and eating grilled shrimp together, the day the paperwork came in and I officially adopted him. We’d lived t
hrough so many important moments together and had so many more that were yet to come.
We’d caught killers and thieves. We could catch a catnapper, too.
The happy memories quickly gave way to the scary ones. To high-speed car chases and ominous staircases, visiting a friend in maximum security and staring straight into the eyes of someone who wanted me dead.
A bang sounded from across the room, and I jumped into a sitting position before I’d even had the chance to fully wake up. The image of a shiny pistol flashed behind my eyelids. I’d been threatened by a gun more than once this past year, and—
BANG!
It was coming from the other side of my closed door.
No, it was my closed door.
Someone was knocking on it as if their very life depended on me answering and answering fast.
“Nan?” I called as I padded hesitantly over.
“Open up! Open up!” a familiar squeaky voice shouted. “There’s been a development.”
I flung the door open, and in came Pringle.
He clambered right up onto my bed, blinking hard when I flipped the light switch on. “Ahh, I’m blinded by the light,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “Doesn’t that thing have a dimmer?”
“Sorry.” I switched off the overhead and turned on my bedside lamp. As I came closer, I noticed that he had a piece of white paper with small colorful blocks pasted on one side.
“Where’d you get that?” I asked, pointing.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Someone just slipped this under the front door. I came running, but I wasn’t fast enough to see the person’s face. Definitely a human, though. Definitely a human. Here. Take it.”
My hands shook as I took the paper from Pringle’s outstretched paws.
“It’s a ransom note,” I said in disbelief as I looked over the hasty arrangement of letters that had clearly been cut out from a magazine. “Why go to all this trouble? Why not just type what they wanted to say?”
“Clearly somebody has a flair for the dramatic,” Pringle said, baring his teeth and rolling his eyes. “So, what’s it say? Huh? Huh?”
I moved the paper closer to the light and read, “You don’t belong here. Give up the house, or I kill the cat.”
I gasped and dropped the letter as if I’d been burned.
“No way, no way, no way!” Pringle shouted as he jumped on my bed. “Nobody threatens Octavius and gets away with it. What do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” I answered with a sob. “They didn’t give us any directions or tell us a place to send our response.”
I’d give them the house if that’s what it took, but how? I felt more helpless than ever as I stared into Pringle’s dark eyes, praying he had the answer.
Chapter Twelve
“C’mon,” I told my raccoon accomplice after several moments of tense silence passed between us. “Let’s go get you some Fancy Feast.”
I took a picture of the ransom note with my phone and forwarded it to both Charles and Nan, then headed for the pantry to prepare a late-night snack for both me and Pringle. I’d already made it about halfway down the stairs when I realized he wasn’t following me.
Instead, Pringle stood at the top of the narrow stairway with giant, glistening tears in his dark eyes. “Fancy Feast? For me?” he crooned.
I smiled at the sweet but bizarre forest creature. “I can also throw in some Evian if that helps to sweeten the deal.”
Pringle scampered down the stairs as fast as his four feet could carry him and attached himself to my leg in what I assumed was a grateful hug. “This is the best day of my life,” he whispered into my plaid pajama pants. “The very best day.”
“Just wait until you meet Octavius,” I said with a chuckle, picturing the scene unfold—the look of unadulterated joy on Pringle’s face, the likely irritation on my cat’s. “I have a feeling he’s going to love you,” I said anyway. It was true; once Octo-Cat got past the raccoon’s enthusiasm, he’d love having someone in his life who appreciated him as much as he appreciated himself.
Pringle stopped in his tracks but quickly started moving again. I absolutely loved how easy it was to make his day. Once I prepared a late-night meal of Fancy Feast and Evian for him—served on disposable dishes rather than Octo-Cat’s preferred Lenox set—and grabbed a granola bar for myself, I went to wake Nan with news of the ransom note.
Before I could reach her bedroom, however, my cell phone buzzed in my hand. The call came from a number I didn’t recognize, which seemed especially odd this late at night.
Could it be the catnapper calling to talk terms? I’d happily pay whatever he wanted if it meant getting my cat back.
“Hello?” I asked, a quiver of anticipation racing through me.
“Angie, why didn’t you call me earlier?” The speaker sounded quite angry, so it took me a moment to place her.
“B-B-Bethany?” I stuttered, finally recognizing my friend’s voice. “Where are you?”
“Peter and I made it down to Georgia earlier tonight, and Charles just called to catch me up on everything that happened since we left. First tell me, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I lied for some reason. I’d grown to love Bethany, even though our relationship hadn’t always been an easy one. Still, as much as I trusted her, I didn’t want her to know how destroyed I was by this latest turn of events. She didn’t know my secret, and I planned to keep it that way.
“Do you have any idea who could have wanted to take Octo-Cat?” I asked, my voice shaking.
Bethany didn’t hesitate in her response. “Clearly, this has something to do with Ethel’s will. Remember how angry everyone was that he got anything at all, let alone that huge trust fund?”
I’d already been thinking along these same lines myself, but there was a part of it that still made absolutely no sense to me. “Yeah, but that was months ago,” I added. “Why act on it now?”
She hummed a few beats, then asked, “How long has it been since you moved into Fulton Manor?”
“A couple months,” I mumbled as I slipped one of my fingers into my mouth and began to bite at the scraggly fingernail. “Think that has something to do with it? I did get this ransom note that specifically mentions it.”
“Of course the house has something to do with it,” Bethany exploded after I caught her up. “There’s one thing that doesn’t quite make sense, though. If the catnapping was supposed to keep you from contesting the arbitration, then why send a ransom note at all? I mean, without Octo-Cat’s monthly stipend, you wouldn’t be able to afford the house and would have to give it up, anyway. Right?”
I groaned, suddenly feeling like I might pass out. “Thanks for reminding me of just how much is at stake here. But yes, I can’t afford my mansion on a part-time paralegal’s salary. This isn’t House Hunters.” My joke fell on deaf ears.
“I’m thinking,” Bethany mumbled without giving me even a pity laugh.
“Like thinking you might know who did it?” I chanced. It killed me that I hadn’t been able to figure this out yet. Was I missing something big due to my panic? Could my shrewd and logical friend catch something I hadn’t been able to?
“Not yet,” she answered with a sigh. “But I do know the Fultons a bit better than you do. I may be able to connect some of the dots if I puzzle over this long enough.”
“Anything you can do would be very helpful,” I said politely. “Thank you, Bethany.”
“Hey, I owe you one, anyway.” Now she let out a little chuckle. I had no idea what she was talking about, though.
“You do? Why?”
“Um, never mind,” she said with another nervous laugh. “Gotta go. Bye!”
Well, that was weird. Bethany was right about one thing, though. The arbitration notice and the ransom note did seem at odds with each other. The note might even establish grounds for delaying the arbitration a bit longer. Could the catnapper mastermind really be so shortsighted?
Charles would know better th
an me.
I glanced at the tiny digital clock on my phone. It was just past twelve thirty. Since I knew Charles regularly burned the midnight oil, I decided to try giving him a call.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice answered coldly.
“Oh, um, Breanne?” I chanced a guess. It gutted me that she had answered his phone at this hour.
“Who else would it be? And why are you calling my boyfriend in the middle of the night. Hmm?” Well, apparently, it bothered her just as much that I had reason to call so late at night. Charles was my friend before he was ever her boyfriend, though, and I was willing to bet I knew him better and cared for him more.
“Give me that,” I heard Charles say before presumably yanking the phone free of his girlfriend’s hands.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
Charles sucked air in through his teeth. “You’re not interrupting. Breanne just stopped by to say a quick goodnight since we’re not going to be able to see each other tomorrow.”
Yup, uh-huh. Likely story.
Even though I myself was a twenty-eight-year-old virgin, I knew how the world worked. It made me want to throw up everything in my stomach, but still I understood.
“Charles!” Breanne hissed from the other end of the call. “I haven’t got all night to wait around here.”
“I’ve gotta go,” my friend said, and he even sounded a little sad about it.
“Bye,” I whispered after he’d already disconnected the call.
“Humans are weird,” Pringle informed me as he waddled his way over to my side.
“We are,” I agreed. “But raccoons are kind of weird, too.”
He laughed and used his hands to groom himself following his decadent feast of canned cat food. “You’ve got that right.”
“Do you think he’s okay out there?” I asked, not bothering to clarify who I meant.
“Listen, babe. I can’t live in a world that doesn’t have my boy Octavius in it. You better believe he’s okay and that whoever did this is gonna pay—and pay big-time.”