by Nic Saint
“It’s murder, and whoever put this poor person in there managed to get away with it for all this time.”
“Oh, don’t tell me you think we should…” Alec began.
“Investigate who killed him or her? Of course. It doesn’t matter if it happened yesterday or fifty years ago, we need to get to the bottom of this.”
“But—”
“There’s people out there who lost a brother, a sister or a mother or a father. And who never had closure. People who want to know what happened, and who deserve answers, and to see justice done. And the murderer is probably still out there, happy they got away with it. Well, I would like you to promise me you’re not going to let that happen. That you’re going to do whatever it takes to bring this person to justice.”
Chapter 3
“I’m getting very hot, Dooley,” I said.
As you may or may not know, cats don’t sweat, unless it’s through the soles of their paws. But since the available acreage for sweating is so limited we usually seek other ways of cooling our overheated bodies down, like placing ourselves on top of a cold surface, seeking shade, or drinking cooling liquids. But since none of those avenues were available to me, I was suffering.
“That means it’s working, Max,” said Dooley. “Just hang in there.”
I was frankly melting, so if that’s what Dooley meant when he said it was working he was probably right. But I was still stuck in that door, and if anything I had the feeling I was expanding, not shrinking.
“I think you’ve got this all wrong, Dooley,” I said. “I shouldn’t be heating up, I should be cooling down. Physical objects exposed to heat expand, and when exposed to cold, they contract. So you should be turning down the heat and turning up the AC full blast.”
He thought about this. “There’s something in that,” he admitted. “So what are you saying, Max? That we should turn this house into a freezer?”
“I think what I’m saying is that I’m about to expire,” I said, puffing some more. “And if you don’t turn off the heat you won’t even have to bother getting me out of this door. The county coroner will do it for you before arresting you for murder by central heating.”
“Just hang in there a little bit longer,” he encouraged me. “I’m sure it’s working. Have you tried to move again?”
“Yes, Dooley. What do you think I’ve been doing? I’m completely stuck!”
“Let me give it another try,” he said, and put his paws on my nose and pushed.
“Owowowow!” I said.
“What?” he asked, pausing to listen to my complaint.
“Retract your claws already, will you?!”
“Oops, sorry. Force of habit.” So he tried again, only this time without claws.
“It’s not working!” I cried as I wriggled to get some traction.
“Uncle Alec should have made that door a lot bigger,” said Dooley, giving up.
“Uncle Alec, Tex and Chase,” I said.
For a moment, we both lay there, staring at each other, then he said, “I’ve got it. Repeat after me, Max. ‘Every day, in every way, I’m getting thinner and thinner and thinner.’”
“Every day, in every way, I’m getting thinner and thinner and thinner,” I said.
“Now say it like you believe it!” he said, like a regular new age guru. “And try to visualize yourself getter thinner, too. The power of the mind, Max. It’s all about the power of the mind. I saw it on the Discovery Channel. This is what Olympic athletes do. Before they start their routine they visualize success. Picture it in their minds.”
“Every day, in every way…” I muttered. Just then, the door started moving. My eyes popped open. “It’s working!” I cried. “I’m not doing anything and my body is moving!”
Unfortunately it wasn’t me popping out of that door as if nudged by the invisible hand of Louise Hay, but someone actually opening the door. And since the door swung inwards, any moment now I could be squashed between door and kitchen wall.
Lucky for me Dooley had the presence of mind to yell, “Stop! You’re squishing Max!”
My progress towards the wall halted, and I heaved a sigh of extreme relief.
“Max!” said Odelia, for it was she. “What are you doing down there?”
“I’m making a study of the floor,” I said. “What do you think I’m doing? Your uncle, dad and boyfriend made this door much too small.”
“He got stuck again,” said Dooley.
“I knew it,” said Odelia, crouching down and placing her hands underneath my armpits. “I should never have fed you all of that soft food. I knew it would make you balloon up in size again.”
“I’m not a balloon!” I cried. “The door has shrunk since the last time I passed through.”
With expert hands she pulled, and finally the flap released its hold on me.
“You did it!” cried Dooley. “You saved him!”
“I don’t know about that,” said Odelia, “but at least he’s not stuck in the door anymore. How long have you been down there?”
“Oh, just a couple of minutes,” I said.
“Over an hour,” said Dooley.
“And why is it so hot in here?”
“That was my idea,” said Dooley. “I turned up to heat so Max would lose weight.”
“Dehydration, huh? Clever pussy,” said Odelia as she gave Dooley a pat on the head.
He looked like a million bucks while I merely gave him a dirty look. I was the one who’d practically sweat his entire body weight out through his paws and was now leaving soggy paw prints all across the kitchen floor. I made a beeline for my water bowl and began to drink with big, greedy gulps.
“We found a dead body, you guys,” said Odelia.
“A dead body?” I asked. “Where? Who? Why?”
“Well, a dead skeleton, to be more precise. And I want you to sniff around and try to figure out whose skeleton it might be, and how long it’s been stuck there.” She was rooting through a kitchen drawer in search of something. “So ask around, will you? I know the house next door used to belong to the Bakers, but I doubt they were the first owners. Besides, I don’t think the Bakers were capable of murder, or burying a body in their basement. My family have known the Bakers for a long time and they’re not killers.”
“Is this a new case, Odelia?” asked Dooley.
“Yes, a cold case,” she said.
I was in desperate need of a cold spot to sit, but I refrained from mentioning this.
“A cold case?” asked Dooley. “Because the body is cold, you mean?”
“No, because the case has probably been dropped by the police a long time ago, if it was ever a case at all. It could be that no one ever bothered to report this person missing, in which case we don’t even know who they might be.”
“Sounds very complicated,” I grumbled. I was in no mood to take on a case, cold or otherwise, having just suffered through such a harrowing and embarrassing ordeal.
“Well, you’re going to have to help me,” she said. “Ah, I’ve found it.” She picked what looked like an old diary from the kitchen drawer.
“What’s that, Odelia?” asked Dooley.
“My old diary. I remember once wanting to write a story about the history of this neighborhood, and doing some preliminary research, before Dan told me to drop the story.” She opened the old diary and sat down at the kitchen table. “Can you turn down that thermostat, Dooley? It’s like an oven in here.”
Dooley did as he was told, and Odelia frowned as she studied her notes.
“This entire block of houses was built in the early fifties,” she said. “One of the first neighborhoods of its kind ever to be built in this part of Hampton Cove, in fact.”
“Maybe Dan remembers who lived here in the fifties?” I suggested.
“Or Gran,” said Dooley. “She’s probably as old as the house. Or older.”
Odelia smiled. “Don’t let her hear you say that. Gran is very sensitive about her age. But you’r
e right. Gran may know something we don’t, and so may Dan.” She got up. “I’m going next door again. I want to be there when the coroner shows up to take that skeleton out of the wall. Meanwhile, I want you guys to go out there and find out anything you can about that house and its occupants. Anything that might help us figure out what happened.” And as she moved to the door, she added, “Oh, and Max? Please don’t try to fit through the pet door again. I’ll open the window. You can come and go that way.”
“But isn’t that dangerous?” said Dooley, wide-eyed. “A burglar could get in.”
She laughed. “Oh, Dooley. I think I can take that chance. After all, there hasn’t been a burglary in this neighborhood in years. Besides, I’ll come and close the window before I leave for work.”
And with these words she let me and Dooley out, and then closed the door, but not before opening the glass sliding door to the living room a crack.
And then Dooley and I were on our way, a new investigation to sink our teeth into, and a reprieve from our old assignment, which Odelia seemed to have forgotten about.
“No more mice to get rid of, Max,” said Dooley happily, having reached the same conclusion.
“And a good thing, too,” I said.
We bumped paws, and then we were off, ready to tackle this newest assignment.
Chapter 4
“I’m not so sure about this, Jerry,” said Johnny Carew, leaning across the steering wheel of the van and looking out at the house they were currently staking out.
“You don’t have to be sure, you moron,” said his friend and partner in crime Jerry Vale. “As long as I’m sure that’s what matters.”
“Uh-huh,” said Johnny. He was a bear of a man, while Jerry looked more like a scrawny chicken. They’d been friends and colleagues for a very long time.
“Can you explain the plan to me again?” asked Johnny. “I think I missed something.”
“You didn’t miss something,” growled Jerry, who was in a foul mood. “You probably missed everything. Look, if we’re gonna do this, we need to know what the cops are like in this godforsaken town, all right?”
“Uh-huh,” said Johnny, taking this information and storing it in his brain, such as it was.
“So we pull off a minor B&E and see how fast the local fuzz gets here, see?”
“Yup,” said Johnny. “But what if they get here real fast, Jer? What if they get here so fast they catch us and throw our ass in jail? I don’t wanna go back to jail, Jer. Nuh-uh.”
“They won’t throw our ass in jail. Not for a minor little thing like this. And even if we get caught, which is unlikely, because nobody cares about some shitty little house in a shitty little neighborhood like this with so many multi-million-dollar mansions to protect, we can always tell ‘em we thought it was our own place and we made a mistake.”
“You think they’ll buy that?”
“If the local fuzz are as dumb as I think they are? Sure.”
“I still wish Chazz hadn’t kicked us out, Jer.”
“Yeah, well, that can’t be helped, Johnny. The big guy did what he thought was right, and I’m sure he’s already sorry he acted so rash.”
“You really think so, Jer? You think he’s sorry he canned us?”
“Sure! We were the best he got! And even more than that, we shared a bond.”
“We did. We really did.”
Chazz Falcone, the man they used to work for, was one of the richest men in the country, known for his real estate deals and the empire he built in his home town of New York. Johnny and Jerry had worked for the guy for so long they considered Chazz family. At first they’d been hired muscle to put the squeeze on stubborn tenants who needed to get muscled out of the buildings Chazz bought for a bargain so he could tear them down and build one of his high-rise monoliths. They’d graduated to important positions on Chazz’s staff when the latter had decided to run for president, and when that hadn’t worked out, Johnny had become Chazz’s dog handler, and Jerry the man’s dietician.
Unfortunately Johnny and Jerry were old crooks who had a hard time keeping to the straight and narrow, so when the opportunity presented itself to dip their hands into the company till, they hadn’t held back and had dipped with abandon and obvious glee.
Chazz hadn’t been happy when he found out and had immediately terminated their employment. And since they’d been forced to pay back every penny they pinched, they now found themselves on a road they thought they’d left behind: graciously allowing other, more law-abiding citizens, to pay for their way of life. And because the Hamptons were a place they knew well, and where a lot of money was located on an area the size of a postage stamp, they now found themselves back on their old stomping ground.
They watched as a car drew up to the house next to the one they were targeting, and when a fat man stepped out carrying a small suitcase, Jerry said, “Looks like a doctor.”
“Yeah, has to be a doctor,” Johnny agreed.
“Weird, though, right? People have been coming and going in the place next door, but ours hasn’t seen any sign of life yet. At least if you don’t count the two cats that came hotfooting it out from behind it.”
“I like cats,” said Johnny. “I think cats are a good sign, Jer. A good omen.”
Jerry muttered something about what he thought of omens and where Johnny could stick them. He hunkered down in his seat and watched the house with eyes half-closed.
“So when do we strike, Jer?” asked Johnny, rubbing his hands. Now that he’d decided this was a pretty solid plan, he couldn’t wait to get started.
“Tonight,” said Jerry as he closed his eyes. “Tonight’s the night, Johnny. So keep your eyes peeled, will you?”
And as Johnny did as he was told, Jerry’s chin dropped to his chest and soon he was snoring like a chainsaw.
From behind Johnny a little dog came snuffling, then climbed onto Johnny’s lap. It was Spot, one of the dogs Johnny had dog-watched for Chazz. As a parting gift, and proving that he had his heart in the right place, in spite of being betrayed by his two associates, Chazz had gifted Johnny the dog he loved so much.
“Hey, little buddy,” said Johnny. “So do you like cats, too?”
Spot barked a curt bark of agreement.
“Oh, I thought you would. You love those funny-looking creatures, do you? Do you, buddy? Huh?”
Spot barked happily. He did, he did!
“Will you shut that dog up already,” Jerry growled without opening his eyes.
“Shush, Spot,” said Johnny, placing a sausage-sized index finger to Spot’s lips. “Daddy is napping, so we must be very quiet now, you hear?”
Spot seemed to smile, but didn’t bark, showing what a clever little doggie he was.
And then Johnny gave himself up to silent surveillance, something he was very good at. So good, in fact, that five minutes later he was fast asleep, his deep and regular snores competing with Jerry’s for volume and pitch.
Chapter 5
“Come out of there, mouse,” said Harriet. “And if you don’t come out I will…” She hesitated. Brutus gave her a questioning look. What would she do if the mouse refused to leave its hiding place in the walls of Odelia’s basement? She couldn’t very well crawl in there and bodily drag it out. She was too big for that, and the mouse entirely too small.
“We’ll smoke you out,” said Brutus, having a bright idea.
She rolled her eyes. “How are we going to smoke it out?”
“Well, with smoke,” he suggested.
“And how do we do that? Do you have something to create smoke?”
“No, but Odelia has, and she’ll only be too happy to give us credit for the idea.”
“Humans don’t like it when you set their house on fire, Brutus,” she said, with a little less than her usual warmth and affection, “on account of the fact that when their house burns down they don’t have a place to stay. Which means we don’t have a place to stay.”
“But we get rid of the mouse,�
� he said with a grin.
She gave him the kind of look that quickly made him lose the grin.
“If you don’t come out right this instance,” she said as inspiration finally struck, “I’m going to lock the door of the basement and you’ll be trapped down here, without food or water until you agree to leave.”
A laugh suddenly sounded from nearby. She immediately leaped to its source and saw that it had come from a tiny little hole in the wall right behind the big furnace.
“Who cranked up the heat like that?” said Brutus as he puffed a little. “That furnace has been blasting away non-stop since we came down those stairs.”
He was right. For some reason the furnace was working overtime, emitting a dry heat that was searing Harriet’s sensitive features.
“You don’t get it, do you, cat?” said a voice from within the wall. “We don’t need doors. We move around this house and never use any of those passageways humans like to use, or cats.”
“He’s right,” said Brutus. “Mice are notoriously clever little creatures. They can probably move through the walls and reach any part of the house without being seen.”
“So how do we fight the annoying critters?!”
“You can’t!” said the mouse from within the safety of the wall. “Just accept it, cat. We’re here to stay. Now beat it. I’m trying to take a nap and you’re bothering me.”
In response, Harriet moved fast as lightning and jammed her paw into the tiny hole. “Come here, you annoying little beast!” she cried. For a moment she thought she could feel something soft and squishy being impaled by her sharp claws. But when she retracted her paw she saw it was just a piece of old styrofoam.
“Beat it, you stupid cat!” said the mouse. “You’ll never catch me. Never, you hear? Never, never, never!”
And with these words, suddenly a piece of cheese was projected from the tiny hole. It wasn’t so much a piece of cheese as a rind, though, neatly nibbled down to the plastic. It hit Harriet right on the nose.
“Oh, you horrible little…” she growled.