“I dunno.” The thug sounded like he was sulking. “I didn’t bring ‘em.”
One-Eared Whitey walked up to him, raising a paw and placing it possessively on the man’s knee. The thug looked down at him for a second, then shrugged and shook the cat off. “Come on, then,” he said to his friend. “Let’s get home.”
My human stepped into the room. “Wait a minute.” He’d been hanging back in the hallway, assessing the situation with his eagle eyes, like he always does. A thoughtful man, my human. It disappointed me to find out he was mixed up with this situation.
“None of this is right,” my human said, and I could have snuggled up to him in gratitude. “I’m not going to alter your operation, so you can pay protection money to this man.”
My human gestured at the boss man, and expression of mixed disappointment and disgust on his face. “It’s illegal, and I’ve no desire to end up in prison just so you can support an organized crime organization. As for you two.” He turned to the thugs readying themselves to leave. “The police already know who you are. I’m happy to give them a call to let them know you’re on your way home.”
“Hey, now.” The boss man stepped forward, holding his arm out. “Nobody’s making any calls to the police, do you hear me? We can sort all this out in a few minutes. You don’t want to do his books, get out.” The boss man jerked his thumb at the front door. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Even I could hear the edge of menace in the man’s voice. I trotted over to stand beside my human, offering him the only protection that I could.
“Thor! What are you doing here?”
“Is that your cat?” The boss man pointed a forefinger at me. “I could’ve sworn he was the same one mucking about with my distributor.”
My human picked me up and nuzzled his face into my side. I leaned my head against him, letting his warmth comfort me.
“Are all of these your cats?” the well-dressed man asked. “You need to get them the hell out of my house.”
“Peter,” his wife said, catching his hand in hers and pulling him closer. “These animals rescued me from those two thugs.” Her lips curled as she looked at the two men, still standing by the door, prepared to leave. “They can stay here as long as they like and if you have a problem with that, you can leave.”
The boss man turned to look at her husband. “How about you send everyone and everything out of the room, so we can have a chat about your organization. I’m prepared to let your factory stay closed for as long as it takes to get it through your thick head, that I’m the one running things here.”
Beamer growled at the man, taking a few steps forward but wisely staying out of the reach of the man’s stubby legs. The old soldier cat moved to the dog’s side, standing staunchly, shoulder to shoulder.
“Get away,” the boss man said, flicking his hand at the two of them. He turned to my human with narrowed eyes. “Call off your animals.”
“They’re not mine,” my human said. “Except for this one.”
The thugs stood in the doorway. Agnes sat in her chair—one hand gripping hold of her husband who stood beside her. The boss man was opposite, and my human was to the side.
The cats and Beamer were standing all around, watching the power play with interest. No sides taken, except what would get the cat food factory open the quickest.
We all stared at each other, until the bell downstairs peeled out again, piercing the tense air. “Police! Open up!”
The two thugs took off, running. Their feet thundered down the stairs and out the back of the house. A few seconds later, just before the doorbell cried out again, the men yelled in pain. “It’s electrified,” one of them called out as I saw Agnes give a satisfied smile.
“Go and answer the door,” the boss man said to the homeowner. “But be careful what you say.”
As the man tried to pull away from Agnes, she held his arm back. “No, you don’t. Not unless I come down with you and I’m happy to tell the police everything.”
“I suppose you called them, you grass.” The boss man spat at the feet of my human.
Even I knew better than that, so it was no surprise to me when he shook his head. “I didn’t have time to call anybody,” my human said, confusion suffusing every word. “Maybe a neighbor did when they heard Agnes scream.”
At the words, Agnes’s face turned pale, and she clutched her husband’s hand harder. “Stay with me,” she whispered, and the arm he placed around her shoulder showed that the man intended to do precisely that.
“Well, someone’s got to go downstairs and answer them.” The boss man glared. “We left the gate open when we came through, so the cops’ll know somebody’s at home.”
“I’ll go.” Before anyone could stop him, my human strode out of the room and downstairs. His confidence faltered as he peered through the side glass of the main door and he clutched me a little tighter.
“Hello, officers,” my human said with a bright smile as he opened the door. “Can I help you with something?”
“My cat.” The girl from the animal shelter held her hands out, squeezing her fingers opened and closed with excitement. “I told you that they’d stolen my cat.”
The policeman looked down at her with a patient smile before turning to my human. “Is this your cat, sir?”
“It is,” my human responded, making my fur warm with the tone of possessive love in his voice. He started to say something else, then the girl shot past him, running full-tilt into the house.
“No. Come back!”
My human ran after her, the surprise catching him off-guard as the child streaked ahead. I saw Fat Bobby peering around the landing of the staircase. The girl had seen him, too.
“Don’t worry, sir,” the policeman said, stepping inside. “I’m sure that the child won’t do too much damage.”
He was responding to the fear in my human’s voice but did nothing to dissuade it.
“Upstairs,” my human said after a shocked pause. “There’s a mobster upstairs trying to extort money out of my boss and two men out the back who just tortured his wife, Agnes.”
The policeman stared in open-mouthed horror for a second, then called for backup as he ran after the little girl.
Chapter Ten
I struggled out of my human’s arms and quickly caught up to the action, fleeing upstairs. The poor policeman stopped dead in his tracks at the door to Agnes’s bedroom.
I felt vindicated for a second. It was evident to me the man was freaked out by all the cats. Just like I said.
The officer recovered quickly and sized up the situation. With only one pair of cuffs at his disposal, he chose the boss man for the privilege. After making sure he was safely secured, he then joined the arriving backup policeman and ran out the back to deal with the thugs.
True to form, they’d screwed up their attempted escape. Instead of learning after the first jolt of electricity, the men had taken turns throwing themselves at the wall, hoping that by increasing their speed and ferocity, they’d somehow overtake the scientific principles.
The first responder laughed about it all the way back to the station. My human accompanied him without protest, the second ferry-load of people making that journey.
The little girl was safe and well. Although she’d run full-tilt into an organized crime syndicate meeting, her eyes were solely on Fat Bobby. For his part, the cat sat happily on her lap, not making a move to leave her at all.
Over the following days, my owner would read at length every article from the paper that touched on the crime. He’d agreed to give evidence, along with the factory owner, Agnes one and Agnes two, and of course, Old Man Jack.
My human explained over and over to the flood of people who called, that he didn’t feel in any danger doing so. “If his henchman can be outwitted by my cat, I don’t think I need to worry too much about my safety.”
Once, when curled up on his lap at night with a gloriously full belly, he whispered into my ear in a rare momen
t of doubt, “You’d come and rescue me, wouldn’t you, buddy?”
My answer was quick and firm. “Of course, you know I would.”
The factory owner was implicated in the criminal proceedings, of course, but the court took a lenient view of his involvement. Paying someone protection money wasn’t a crime, but the creative accounting to hide it could be placed squarely at his door.
Free of his old boss, my human found a new boss, and there was a lot less muttering on the end of phone calls. All I cared about was the cans that he sourced from the factory, something that my human managed to sort out in record time.
After my accomplishments, I strode around the township of Hanmer Springs with a jaunty step. Every cat on the streets knew my name, and they certainly didn’t recall it was Wilber.
When Fat Bobby got sick on occasion of the home life with his little girl, he would join me in the town center. After settling down in a warm patch of sun, we’d take turns to tell the urchin street cats our tall tales. As their eyes grew wide with wonder at the feats that we’d accomplished, my heart filled with pride. There was enough glory to share it with Fat Bobby, the old soldier, Beamer, and all the cats who came to the rescue, no matter how late.
On days when I was feeling generous, I’d even point to One-Eared Whitey—more at home back on the streets than he’d ever seemed with his humans. I told them how he commanded his humans to back off their plan of action and how they meekly obeyed.
It had always been a good life, living with my human, knowing that all my needs would be taken care of. Now that I knew I could sort things out myself if they traveled off the rails, it became even better.
Who knew, one day, I might embark on another adventure, filled with danger, but with high stakes as the reward. For the time being, I was comfortable with my life, just so long as I had the right food in my cat bowl.
Thanks for reading!
I hope you enjoyed the last outing of Thor and his mates (and enemies) in the beautiful township of Hanmer Springs.
If you’d like to try another cozy mystery story set in Hanmer Springs, then please check out the Sweet Baked Mystery Series by clicking on the cover below. You can also follow me on Amazon and they’ll let you know whenever a new cozy mystery is available in store. I promise it won’t be too long :)
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About the Author - Katherine Hayton
Katherine Hayton is a middle-aged woman who works in insurance, doesn't have children or pets, can't drive, has lived in Christchurch her entire life, and resides a two-minute walk from where she was born.
For some reason, she's developed a rich fantasy life.
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Food Bowl Mysteries Books 1-3 Page 14