by Molly Fitz
“Wow, they really did a number on you,” Octo-Cat said with a low growl. “I didn’t think it was worth investigating, but if they’re working this hard to mess with your memory, maybe it is.”
My memory? Is that why my brain had been so fuzzy today? In a way it made sense, but people couldn’t really just make someone forget—at least not outside the movies. “You think they wiped my memory?” I mumbled as Octo-Cat’s eyes continued to bore into me.
“Uh, yeah!” he cried with an agitated swish of his tail.
“Who’s they?” Nan asked gently.
I looked to Octo-Cat for the answer.
“Magic folk,” he spat in disgust.
“Magic?” I asked with a start. Had we already discussed this? Was I again forgetting something important?
“Magic!” Nan shouted in delight. “Has magic finally come to Blueberry Bay?”
Now we both zeroed in on Nan. “You know about magic?” I squeaked. Had I been the only one in the dark here?
She laughed it off. “No, but I’d like to. It sounds fun.”
“No,” I snapped at her. “Please don’t get involved in this one, Nan. I’m begging you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared me down. “Fun or not, where you go, I go. This time, it just so happens to be fun. Now catch me up.”
Or really, really dangerous, I mentally added as my stomach did an impressive series of somersaults.
Octo-Cat guided me through the events of the past week, both to refresh my stolen memories and so that I could share with Nan. As he recounted each detail, I instantly remembered them in full. How strange that I hadn’t been able to recall anything without his guidance.
“So,” Nan said, rubbing her hands together as she prepared to sum things up. “Peter can talk to animals, too. There’s a magic club downtown that can disappear at will, and someone is using magic to rob the shops downtown blind. Is that everything?”
“What do you mean is that everything?” I asked. Where earlier my brain had felt light and fuzzy, now it felt heavy from the burden of all this information slamming into it at once. “It’s an awful lot all on its own.”
Nan stood abruptly and headed toward the foyer.
“Where are you going?” I sputtered. Dizzy. I needed to lie down, but I also couldn’t let Nan walk into a dangerous situation all on her own.
Luckily, the next thing she said was, “We need to go shopping.”
“What? Why?” I rubbed my temples to try to get the blood flowing to my brain again.
Nan appeared completely unbothered by this strange turn of events— rather, she appeared to be genuinely excited. “I don’t have any good outfits for a stakeout, and I doubt you do, either.”
“A stakeout?”
“Yes, that’s what I said. Now, are you coming or what?”
Nan and I went to Target and bought new outfits, complete with nondescript black skull caps for each of us. She even bought Octo-Cat a tiny black bandana, which I knew for a fact he would despise.
The rest of that evening was spent baking and putting together a custom stakeout kit that included board games, blankets, audiobooks, and other random items meant to help pass the time. I mostly just tried to stay out of the way while Nan prepared for our upcoming adventure.
When night fell, she popped onto her feet, narrowed her gaze, and said, “It’s time.”
Honestly, between Nan’s spy movie obsession and Octo-Cat’s legal drama TV addiction, I was burnt out on this stakeout before it even began. Hopefully it would actually lead to some helpful new information—but I wasn’t holding my breath.
“We’ll take my car,” Nan declared. Her little red sports car was less than discreet, but arguing would get me nowhere, seeing as she’d already committed to whatever role she planned to play tonight. Maybe a silver-haired female James Bond? I guess that made me the bimbo sidekick.
We parked downtown and sipped on matching thermoses filled with hot chocolate. Octo-Cat complained heartily from his place in the tiny, cramped backseat.
“Watch for anything suspicious,” Nan instructed in a cautious whisper, even though no one was around to hear either of us. “Keep an eye out for anyone nosing around the lair or entering one of the shops after closing time,” she further clarified.
“How long are we going to stay out here?” I asked with a yawn.
“As long as it takes,” she answered, her jaw set with determination. “We can sleep in shifts if we have to.”
Well, that didn’t sound fun at all. Hopefully our magical crooks would reveal themselves quickly so we could go home and snag a proper night’s sleep.
Time passed slowly as Nan recounted the plots of all her favorite action flicks. Downtown Glendale slowly stilled as the businesses shut down for the night and people headed home. Other than the odd stray dog that galloped past, no one came or went. Nothing happened.
That is, until something did.
A clanging alarm sounded just down the street, and bright lights flooded the darkness. I recognized the jewelry store at once. Nan wasted no time reversing more than a half dozen parking spots bringing us to idle right in front the shop with the triggered security system. Despite the alarms and the lights, I couldn’t see anyone inside.
Officer Bouchard showed up a few minutes later, sirens blaring just as they had Friday night. “You again,” he said upon spotting me.
“It’s a coincidence,” I said, putting my hands up in mock surrender. “I promise.”
“We were on a stakeout,” Nan said, setting her mouth in a firm line.
“We just wanted to help,” I said quickly. “See if we could catch the robber in action.”
“And you brought your cat with you?” he asked, spying Octo-Cat through the open car window.
“I’m just really attached to him,” I said between clenched teeth as Octo-Cat preened in my peripheral vision. “But I didn’t see who broke in.”
“The owner’s on the way,” Officer Bouchard explained. “But I think it’s best that you clear out before he gets here.”
Nan tapped her temple and smiled up at the handsome policeman. “Smart,” she said. “We’re the only witnesses, so naturally he’ll suspect us.”
I glanced back toward the lair and thought I saw a dark figure disappear around the alley. I wanted to go investigate but couldn’t make Officer Bouchard any more suspicious of us than he already was.
As a compromise, I ducked my head back into the car and spoke in a low hush. “Octo-Cat, I saw someone or something by the lair,” I whispered. “Can you go check it out?”
“On it,” he said, sneaking out through the open window that faced the street.
“Thank you for your time, Officer,” Nan cooed, shameless flirt that she was. “I know you’re very busy and important, and it always feels nice when you take a little extra time out from your day for us.”
“No more stakeouts,” the cop called after her as he walked away. “You hear me?”
Nan gave a salute, then sank into the driver’s seat.
I pressed the button to roll up the front windows and then whispered, “Stall for a few minutes. Octo-Cat is checking something out for us real quick.”
Nan made a great show of fumbling her keys and taking inventory of the various supplies and activities she’d brought for our big stakeout. When at last Octo-Cat climbed back through the window, she gave a friendly wave and then peeled off into the night.
“What was it?” I asked my cat.
“Nothing,” he said as if he still had a hard time believing it. “Absolutely nothing at all.”
How could we have missed everything when it had happened right before our eyes?
It seemed the only thing our stakeout had accomplished is making me even more afraid of the magical forces that had taken hold of my hometown.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning I woke up to Nan wearing a velour jogging suit with the word sassy written across the tush. A matching pink sweat
band pushed her gray curls out of her face, and she held a metallic purple water bottle clutched firmly in one hand.
“The stakeout continues?” I asked, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
She stretched her arms overhead and then bent to touch her toes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered with a wink while stretching both arms to one side and then the other. “I’m just headed into town to do a little exercise. Keeps me young and spry.”
“Well, don’t forget to take the cat with you,” I said, doing my best to hide the smirk that slithered its way across my face. “His harness is on one of the hooks in the laundry room.”
I finished getting ready for work, and Nan and I had a quick breakfast together before saying goodbye. Octo-Cat, however, flatly refused to speak to me—the harness being one of the few things in this world he hated more than dogs. His irritation aside, Nan really did need his help on her investigation. A leashed-up cat might make her a bit of an inconspicuous character, but her snooping would have been obvious even without the cranky feline partner. At least now she’d have a second set of eyes and ears to help her out.
As for me? I had to go all by myself to face Peter yet again.
Fortunately I, too, had an operative planned for that day. It definitely wasn’t like me to keep forgetting, so I grabbed the digital voice recorder Nan liked to use to record her monologues, popped in a pair of fresh batteries, and tucked the device into the corner of my bra. Once at work, I’d turn it on and record everything that happened that day. I mean, nobody could tamper with my evidence if they didn’t know it was there, right?
God bless my giant boobs. Usually they were just a pain in my back, but today they’d finally serve some kind of actual purpose. Maybe James Bond had more than one reason for keeping all those ample-bosomed sidekicks around, after all.
Whatever happened next, I was ready. We all were.
That morning, Peter arrived at the firm before I did, a fact that didn’t quite feel consistent with the rest of his personality, now that I thought about it. I said hello, then slipped into the bathroom to power on my recorder.
“Did you have a good night?” I asked Peter conversationally when I returned to settle into our shared desk.
He groaned and shifted abruptly in his chair to face me. “I know you saw me, so cut the BS. What part of drop it don’t you understand?”
“Drop what?” I asked casually. Meanwhile, my heart thrummed inside my chest. Was I close enough to the truth that he’d finally tell me what he knew?
Apparently not, because his expression grew venomous as he said, “Just back off, all right?”
I folded my arms across my chest in defiance and spun toward him in my twirly office chair. Our knees were less than an inch apart as I leaned even closer and captured Peter with my most determined glare.
“You’re the one who pushed me first. Why would you do that if you didn’t want to talk about…?” I paused for a brief moment before settling on, “Um, what we have in common.”
He curled both hands into fists, and for a second there, I truly thought he might punch me. But then he sighed, released some of the tension, and whispered, “This is not the place to have this conversation.”
I had him on edge. That had to count for something. Heck, maybe if I pushed a little harder, he’d teeter right over, yelling all his secrets on the way down.
I refused to let him intimidate me. Instead, I jabbed a finger in his chest and ground out, “Maybe not, but you stood me up last time we tried to meet somewhere else, and I’m done taking chances.”
“I didn’t stand you up,” he practically shouted, then took a deep breath and worked hard to compose himself once more. “I didn’t stand you up. You’re the one who broke the deal by showing up early and bringing the cat with you.”
The first crack in his composure had appeared—pry, pry, pry!
“Yeah, so what?” I said, keeping my eyes fierce, determined. “There’s nothing wrong with my cat.”
Peter laughed bitterly, then pulled his shirt aside to show the deep claw marks from Octo-Cat’s attack last week.
“Fine, okay.” I had to fight hard to keep my smirk at bay as I studied the still-red skin. “So, let’s start again.”
“No,” Peter said, turning his chair away from me and pretending to focus on the computer. I could still see him watching me from the corner of his eye, though.
I reached across and shut off his monitor with a humph. “Yes,” I insisted.
“If I’d have known you were this much trouble, I never would have—” He stopped abruptly, catching himself before he could get to the climax of that particular sentence.
“Never would have what?” I demanded, leaning even closer. His cloying cologne filled my nostrils, and we were now so close I could have kissed him if I wanted. Not that I’d ever want anything more from Peter than a few answers.
“Forget it,” he said, his voice shaking as his face began to turn the same shade of red as the claw marks on his chest.
I poked him again, showing him that I couldn’t simply be brushed aside with broken promises and non-answers. “Yeah, you tried to make me forget, didn’t you? But I’m not as pliable as you think I am.”
“Will you just shut up?” Peter squeaked, his eyes widening in obvious terror. After clearing his throat, he leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Stop prying into my secrets. Otherwise, I might just have to share yours with all of Blueberry Bay. You got me?”
I nodded slowly, not knowing whether he was bluffing or dead serious but also preferring not to find out. It didn’t matter, though, because he did that wavy finger thing under the desk and suddenly I just didn’t care anymore.
It wasn’t until I got home that evening that I remembered about the digital recorder I’d stashed in my bra. Thank goodness for my tendency to whip that thing off the moment I stepped through the door.
“Did you get some good scoop during your walkabout?” I asked Nan when I found her putting the finishing touches on lunch in the kitchen.
She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Nothing yet, but we’ll be back out there tomorrow.”
Octo-Cat huffed. “Maybe she will, but I’m done. Please tell me you got something out of Peter today.” He looked up at me with huge pleading eyes, and I wish I had a better answer for him than I don’t remember.
“I have this recording,” I said, holding up the small item I’d palmed after finding it in my bra.
“Oh, goodie!” Nan cried. “The perfect dinner theater.” She tilted her head to the side and let out a chuckle. “Only for lunch.”
I laughed, too, and flipped on the recorder, hoping I’d managed to catch something good. Thankfully, it was only a matter of minutes before Peter’s and my conversation from earlier that morning played back through the tiny speaker.
Some of the words were drowned out by the rustle of my shirt fabric, but the message still came through loud and clear. Peter knew that I knew something, and he was terrified of me finding out anything more.
“All right,” Octo-Cat said following Peter’s final whispered threat. “I’m taking the lead on this one.”
“Wait. What do you mean?” I sputtered. Octo-Cat had never taken the lead before, and the fact he wanted to now scared me worse than anything I’d seen yet. “What’s your plan?”
He sat before me on the table, flexing the claws on one of his front paws and staring at them with delight. “I’m sure you already know that cats are great at everything. And, lucky for you, I’m even greater than most cats. But do you know what I’m greatest at?”
I shook my head, hoping he would just get on with it. Octo-Cat considered himself the greatest genius and talent of our time, so he could literally be talking about anything right about now.
“Stalking my prey,” he answered with a sinister smile. “I smell a rat, and you better believe I’m going to make him my dinner.”
I continued to stare blankly at Octo-Cat, not sure w
hether he was done or what he’d even meant by the things he’d said so far.
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Peter. I’m talking about Peter.”
“You’re going to eat him?” I ground out, trying so hard not to laugh.
“No, it’s just…” The tabby groaned. “I was going for a poetic moment there and you kind of ruined it. Can you please get with the program already?”
“Yes, sorry,” I murmured, then waited as he went through his entire speech again. When he got to the part about smelling a rat and making it his dinner, I brought a hand to my chest and pretended to swoon.
“My hero,” I said overdramatically.
Octo-Cat smiled proudly. “And don’t you forget it.”
Oh, of all the things I’d forgotten lately, this was one thing I’d never be able to erase from my memory—no matter how much I might want to.
Whatever his plan, I just hoped that my cat—my hero—would be safe.
Chapter Twelve
That evening Octo-Cat sent me out for a bit of last-minute shopping. He’d requested an Apple Watch, of all things. Now, if you think people can be snobby about their preference for Macs, multiply that by one hundred and you’ll have a good sense of how devoted my tabby was to his particular electronics brand of choice.
Sometimes I regretted ever giving him that iPad.
Of course, I had to drive to the next town over to reach the closest big box electronics store, and I may have gotten laughed at by the employee who’d been assigned to help me.
“You want an Apple Watch for your cat?” he asked incredulously for the third time that conversation. Seemed he thought I was too stupid to understand the question.
I decided to offer a bit more of an explanation to help get us past the whole laughing and customer-shaming episode. “Yeah, I need to attach it to his collar so I can track where he goes when he’s outside.”
“And it has to be Apple?” he asked, gasping for air between laughs. “There are way cheaper options that are made specifically for pets.”