Katz Pajamas Series Boxset

by Jack Lugar

  She smiled at me, which I usually took as a positive sign that I would be able to get the answers I needed. “I hope there’s not a matching boot in my future anytime soon,” she replied playfully. “Having to watch my team perform without me is almost unbearable.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what happen?

  I could see it was painful to recount the event as her bottom lip quivered. “I was on the wire practicing my show when one of the guide wires that steadies the poles at each end snapped causing the wire to sag and wobble.” She paused for a moment. I could see in her eyes that she was reliving the moment. “I started to fall but was able to catch hold of the wire. I hung from the wire briefly and called for help, but no one responded.”

  “No one?” I questioned. “Is that typical that you practice by yourself?”

  Caterina shook her head no and continued. “My grip on the wire started to slip so I was unable to pull myself up. Eventually, after a few moments, I lost my grip and fell to the ground.”

  Silently, I let her gather her composure, and after a moment her eyes brightened as her disposition changed back the lively presence she had when I approached. Clearing her throat, she said, “and that’s how I acquired this ‘designer boot’.”

  “Sounds terrifying,” I said with awe. “I’m glad it wasn’t any worse.”

  “Have you ever been in a life threatening situation like that?” she asked.

  I replied, “Yes,” before remembering that I had only experienced life threatening events as a detective and not forty feet above the ground. As a cat, I’m not afraid of heights, but I prefer to keep my feet on the ground. My line of work is risky enough.

  “You must be new around her,” Caterina commented. “What’s your act?”

  I realized that I wasn’t wearing an outfit that matched Caterina’s. Noticing some of the other acrocats swinging above, I blurted out, “trapeze.”

  “Are you a catcher or a flyer?” she questioned, however, before I could answer she continued, “you must be a catcher considering your size.”

  I wasn’t very familiar with the aspects of being a trapeze artist, but I figured a flyer was the cat that swung on the bar and then flew through the air to another cat swinging from another bar. That must have been the catcher. Neither position sounded appealing, but catcher made more sense, so I agreed with Caterina’s conclusion.

  “Are you filling in or a permanent replacement?”

  Her question pointed out to me that I’d agreed to investigate in a manner I wasn’t quite used to and really hadn’t put much thought into. If I were to go around the carnival and blend in, I needed to know my backstory for each disguise I put on. At the moment, I was in the middle of an incognito interrogation, so the best I could do was make it up as I went along. So that’s what I did. “Just filling in.” I replied. “It will only be for a couple days though. I’m on loan from Crazy Cal’s Flying Cat Fair.”

  “Oh, really? I used to be there too,” she exclaimed. “Do you know Petunia Sweetpickle? She’s a clown.”

  I could have left well enough alone and just said I was a fill in, but instead I chose to embellish my story. I should have known Caterina would have an acquaintance at Crazy Cal’s. The world of acrocatic performers is probably pretty small. I covered my tracks by saying, “I’m pretty new there, but I think I’ve met a girl named Sweetpickle.”

  Here I was giving answers, when what I needed to do was get answers. I needed to get the upper hand on this conversation, so I took the opportunity to redirect the topic back to the situation that led to her injury. “You said that one of the bracing wires broke while you were on the high wire?” I asked.

  “Yes, it was the wire over there,” she said as she pointed to the far side of the ring.

  “And it just snapped?”

  She shook her head as she said, “I don’t really know. I was facing the other direction.”

  “Did you hear anything?” I inquired.

  “I was so focused on my work,” she answered, “all I heard was the pop as the wire snapped.”

  At that moment, I wasn’t sure what else I might gain from asking Caterina more questions. If it were true that she didn’t see or hear anything right before she fell, then there wasn’t really much more I could glean from her at the moment. What I did want to do was look at the wire that had broken. However, before I could excuse myself, Caterina had one more question for me.

  “Why are you so curious about the accident?” Caterina asked.

  I smiled and let out a slight laugh to buy myself a little time to think of what excuse I would give her this time. Fortunately, I didn’t need much time as I responded, “I’m very concerned about safety. Mine and my partners.”

  She nodded and said, “I can appreciate that.”

  I started to excuse myself and said, “It was nice to meet you,” when she stopped me one last time.

  “You never told me your name,” she stated.

  This time I didn’t need to buy any time because while I didn’t normally utilize disguises, I quite often relied upon aliases. This time I used my standard go to name, “Miles. Miles Milktooth.”

  She smiled at me and said, “Hi, Miles. I’m Caterina.”

  Of course, I knew who she was, but I nodded my head and responded, “Nice to meet you, Caterina.” I started to walk to the other side of the ring when I turned and said, “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  Leaving Caterina, I first looked at the spot where the wire had broken, but it appeared that the wire had not only been repaired, but the wire had been completely replaced. There were no frayed marks or indications that it had snapped. This meant that the broken wire had to be someplace else at the carnival if it hadn’t been thrown out.

  While this was an answer I’d be able to get from Mr. Barncat or one of his assistants, I figured it might be close by; either under the bleachers or set behind the performance tent. I decided to first look under the seating section since it was closest.

  After searching through curtains of cobwebs and staying crouched over to keep from hitting my head on the metal structure holding up the stands, I concluded that the broken wire had not been tossed under the bleachers. What I did find were some curious clues of abnormal activity along the back wall of the tent. Despite the profuse number of cobwebs, there appeared to be some sort of regular movement going on under the bleachers indicated by rubbing marks on the wall. While the marks were not an indicator of current activity because they could have happened at any location along the carnival’s tour, I noted the rubbing marks running all along the tent’s wall led to a freshly dug hole in the dirt floor.

  I wondered if the hole had been dug just to go under the tent wall to the outside, but as I got closer to inspect with my smartphone flashlight, I saw that it went down much deeper into darkness. It was a pitch that my flashlight could only partially fill before the tunnel took a turn. Looking at the dirt around the hole, I noted a thin line that wiggled back and forth as it came closer to the hole and then disappearing inside. A trail that I would say looked like snake tracks. In addition, there was that familiar smell again. Pouring from the hole was that same unpleasantly pungent odor I’d smelled as I entered the carnival grounds.

  I still couldn’t put a claw on where I’d encountered that smell before. I was pretty sure it was from a past case I’d worked, but I was unable to remember whether it was when I was on the Cat Cop force or as a private detective. The best answer to that question may come from my archive of notes I keep on every case. When you’ve worked as many as I have, sometimes the only way to remember specific details is to write them down, or in my case, type them up. For this reason, I’m very diligent about logging the facts of all my cases right after they are solved; no matter how tired I am. I hoped I wouldn’t have to return to my office and go through my files, but I knew they were there if I needed an answer.

  For the time being, I decided to make a visit to the strongcat for some more answers.

&
nbsp; I decided to go with a clown outfit for my next disguise. Mr. Barncat had told me that it was a clown injured by one of the strongcat’s weights, so it would be interesting to see if the strongcat had any sort of reaction to a clown in his midst. I figured his reaction might tell me whether it truly was an accident or if he had caused the clown’s injury on purpose.

  On my way to make my costume change, I checked outside the performance tent to see if the broken wire was anywhere around, but it wasn’t. Surely they didn’t throw it away. This was one of those moments when normally I would pull out my notepad and write myself a reminder to inquire later about the broken wire’s location with Mr. Barncat or his two assistants. Unfortunately, my snug fitting costume left no room for my notebook, so I would have to rely on my memory for this one.

  After changing out of the trapeze artist costume, I slipped into a bright-colored clown suit and big shoes, threw on a wig, painted my face, and finished the look with a big red nose.

  For some reason I felt a little more confident pretending to be a clown than a trapeze artist. Maybe it was the make-up that made me feel like I was wearing a mask. Or maybe it was the costume all together making me feel powerful knowing that some cats are afraid of clowns. It could have been the fact that I knew how to juggle, and unlike desperately needing to avoid swinging on a trapeze, I thought I could pull off acting like a clown for a little while.

  I exited my changing tent and ventured into the midway of the carnival on my way to the sideshow performers’ venue. This was a space that housed not only the strongcat but performers such as the bearded lady, two-headed goat, world’s smallest cat, fire-eater, sword-swallower, and others.

  Walking with a bit of a goofy gate thanks to my oversized shoes, I felt pretty confident I fit right in at the carnival. Having never worn clown shoes before, I would have never known that it would be much like walking in a pair of water skis. I had to pick up my feet a little higher off the ground to avoid tripping.

  I could see my destination in the background when a voice called to me. “Hey, buddy!” the voice said from between two game booths. I looked over and saw another clown. He had a similarly painted white face and red nose like mine, but his costume resembled a police officer. “What are you doing out there?” he asked.

  I hesitated for a moment and looked around me hoping he was calling so to someone else. “Me?” I asked.

  “Yeah, you. What are doing out there?” he asked as he motioned for me to join him. “We’ve got a show in five minutes.”

  I didn’t move, frozen by the thought that I was on the verge of making my debut performance as a clown. Because of my hesitation, he ran out towards me and grabbed my arm, dragging me back behind the scenes.

  As he pulled me off the midway and behind the scenes, I noticed the sign in front of the tent I’d been walking past. It read, “Clown Show.”

  “C’mon, we’ve got to get in our places,” he said as he continued to drag me.

  Not sure how to react, I willingly let him pull me off the midway. This cat was a bit funny looking, but he was dressed as a clown, so I figured he was supposed to be funny looking. He was a lot shorter than me and his belly protruded such that his feet couldn’t come together, which meant he waddled as he walked. His nose seemed a little pointier than most cats I know, but it might have just been accentuated by the red rubber nose at the end.

  Before I knew it, I was at the back entrance of the Clown Show tent and surrounded by at least ten other clowns of all shapes and sizes. It seemed odd that not one of the clowns looked at me and wondered why I was there. Apparently, I fit right in. Maybe my costume and make up was too perfect. Every direction I looked was like I was looking in a mirror. I was surrounded by clowns.

  After a brief moment of huddling outside the back entrance, one of the clowns yelled, “Let’s give ‘em a great show!” With that the huddle began moving through the entrance to the tent, and the spotlight hit us like an endless flash of lightening. I’m sure my new colleagues were used to being blinded by the spotlight and not seeing where they were going as they entered the stage area, but I was completely lost. I staggered around like a blind cat begging.

  Actually, there was a big roar of laughter from the crowd as I was trying to get my bearings and fell on my face. There was a lot going on with so many clowns, but I think the laughter might have been directed at me. I was a pretty good clown without really trying. And then I realized that the beauty of being a clown is that you can do something well and get applause or you can mess it all up and receive the same applause, which told me that when you’re a clown you really can’t fail. That’s a pretty good job, I thought.

  While I was only bumbling around for a few seconds, it felt a lot longer, but as I regained my sight, I located the other clowns and started to make my way in their direction. Joining the others in the center of the stage area, I spotted some juggling balls and grabbed them. I knew how to juggle and that seemed like a good clown thing to do since I couldn’t ride a unicycle. I started tossing the balls in the air in succession like my dad had taught me when I was just a kitten. At the time I thought it was fun, but I never imagined that I’d be using the skill to entertain others. I also never imagined that I’d use it in my work as a detective.

  Of course, I had to remind myself that I wasn’t there to be an entertainer and I was on my way to get more answers. At some point, I needed to find a way to excuse myself even though I didn’t want to. Being a clown was a lot of fun.

  I decided to participate in one more stunt before ducking out, which may not have been my best decision. Having watched another clown run around with what looked like a bucket of water and then throw it all over the front row of the audience only to reveal it was just blue confetti, I engaged the police clown who dragged me into the show in what I thought was the same gag.

  I let him chase me around the bleachers and stage area acting like he was going to throw the bucket full of water all over me. Finally, we came to a spot on stage where I pretended he had me cornered. Confident the bucket was full of more confetti, as he reared back with the bucket ready to throw, I didn’t bother to duck. What I discovered at that moment was the gag was on me. This bucket wasn’t loaded with confetti, but real water. All it took was one quick thrust of the bucket at me, and suddenly, I was drenched.

  My surprise was immediately evident on my clown painted face, but I didn’t really have time to feel any other emotion except elation because the audience roared with approval. They loved the gag, and why wouldn’t they? We had already set it up for the audience to think the water was fake, so when it was revealed that it was real, not only was I surprised, but so was the audience.

  That was my moment to make an exit. As the show continued, I was more than happy to slip out the back entrance. While I loved the crowd’s applause, I wanted to get dried off and back to work. I found a hand towel on a hook just outside the tent (apparently, they were ready for clowns making messes), which I was able to use to pat the water off my face. Of course, I was careful not to wipe too hard and smear my clown face.

  Walking to the sideshow tent, I made it a point to stay off the midway to make sure I avoided being dragged into another show. I loved acting like a clown for my fifteen minutes of fame, but I wanted to avoid being drenched again, and I wanted to make progress on this case. Dancing around, juggling, and goofing off like a clown, literally, wasn’t getting me closer to solving this case.

  Only a minute later I was at my destination and in search of the strongcat. I figured he’d be pretty easy to find. All I had to do was look for a hulking cat probably dressed in a leopard skin singlet. What I found surprised me because the strongcat was nothing like I expected.

  Entering the sideshow tent, I almost stepped on the littlest cat I’d ever seen. He couldn’t have been more than five inches tall and that measurement would have been to the top of his large ears which accounted for almost half his height. He was dressed in a well-tailored black suit and tie with a dia
mond accented cane and top hat. I wondered if he might have been a munchkin breed, but even munchkins were typically much taller than this cat.

  In my effort to avoid squishing the little fellow, I fell bottom first into a nearby hole in the dirt floor. It was a bit of an awkward moment as I sat half submerged in the ground with my feet next to my head.

  The little cat ran to me and in the squeakiest of voices said, “Oh, my! Are you all right?”

  Remembering that I was dressed as a clown, I replied, “Don’t worry, I’m a professional,” which made the little guy laugh the cutest shrill, fluttering laugh.

  “Let me see if I can help you out.” He took his diamond accented cane and stuck it between the edge of the hole and my backside and started to pry me out. He appeared to have done this before because in under a minute I was freed from the hole with a “Pop!” like the sound of a sealed jar being opened.

  “Thank you,” I said as I got back on my feet.

  “No problem. You’ve gotta watch these holes,” he said. Then he leaned in closer to me and whispered, “I think we’ve got moles.”

  Nodding, I dusted off my hind quarters and took a closer look at the hole. It looked much like the one I’d seen under the bleachers. It was clue to be sure, so I made a mental note not having access to my notebook in my current attire.

  I gathered myself and leaned over toward him to get closer to eye-to-eye. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”.

  “It’s no problem,” he assured me. “Happens all the time.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “You must be lost,” the little cat observed. “I’m Teeny Tiny Tom,” he said, extending a paw to me.

  Obviously, he was part of the sideshow and featured as the world’s smallest cat. And I could attest to the fact that he was the smallest cat I’d ever seen. I shook his paw and replied, “nice to meet you.”