The Curious Cat Spy Club

by Linda Joy Singleton

  Leo frowns. “It’s a crime how people are careless with their pets.”

  “Yeah, a crime.” An idea takes shape in my head and demands attention. “But maybe they aren’t being careless.”

  “I don’t get your meaning,” Leo says.

  I shrug. “Something just feels weird.”

  “What kind of weird?” Becca asks.

  “Weird suspicious.” I stare up at the ceiling collage of photos and art, trying to piece together my thoughts. “Too many animals have gone missing in Sun Flower—most of them in the same week. What if they weren’t lost?”

  Becca’s eyes widen. “You don’t mean …?”

  I nod solemnly. “They were pet-napped.”

  - Chapter 14 -

  Lost and Found

  There I said it—the ugly suspicion gnawing at me.

  Digging my fingers into the comforter, I wait to hear what Leo and Becca think of my suspicion.

  Leo taps his chin like he’s considering the idea but Becca is frowning.

  “I don’t believe it.” Becca shakes her head. “Only a few were pedigreed and worth a lot. So why would anyone steal all those pets?”

  “I didn’t say all of them were stolen,” I argue. “Just a lot.”

  “No one needs to steal a pet—our kennel is full of animals no one wants. Most of the missing pets are mixed breeds, not purebreds worth lots of money.” Becca taps her finger on a flyer with a photo of a scruffy mixed-breed terrier. “Why would anyone steal a dog that is half-blind and sixteen years old.”

  “That’s 112 years old in dog years,” Leo says.

  “Not even the dumbest pet thief in the world would steal an old, blind dog,” Becca points out. “Besides, the flyer says that dog wandered off because a gate was left open. Kelsey, I know you like mysteries, but animals get lost all the time. This is not a mystery.”

  I want to argue but she sounds so logical that I doubt myself.

  It’s a surprise when Leo takes my side. “According to my calculations,” he says, “factoring in the estimated population of Sun Flower with the ratio of missing reports, the percentage of lost pets is high.”

  I glance at Becca to see if this convinces her but she just looks confused.

  “Let’s just focus on helping animals,” Becca says with a sigh. “Whether they’re lost or stolen, they need to be found.”

  “By the CCSC,” Leo adds.

  “Want to go out riding tomorrow?” I ask. But they both shake their heads. Leo has flute practice and Becca doesn’t say what she’s doing, just that she can’t make it. We agree to go pet-hunting the day after.

  We aren’t in a hurry to leave, so we pass around the papers and talk about missing pets. Becca scans and prints each flyer so we all have our own copies.

  Leo perches himself on a high step of the ladder, his loafers dangling in the air while he reads through the papers. I lean over Becca’s shoulder, reading along with her. The terriers are curled on the bed too and the smallest climbs into my lap. I scratch beneath his chin as I memorize each photo so the next time I spot a missing animal like the gray cat, I’ll be ready.

  We’re all so quiet, the loudest noise coming from the snoring goat, when Leo suddenly shouts. “A map!” He jumps down from the ladder with a thump, scattering Becca’s flyers over the floor. “I need a map.”

  “Why?” Becca asks as she picks up her papers.

  “To map out the locations where pets have gone missing,” Leo explains. “May I use your computer?”

  “Sure,” Becca says, gesturing toward her desk.

  As he prints out a map of Sun Flower, he tells Becca, “I need pushpins, multicolored.”

  Becca opens a desk drawer, fumbles around, and then drops pins into Leo’s waiting hand. He tacks the map onto Becca’s bulletin board and sticks a colored pushpin onto the map for each missing pet: red for dogs, blue for cats, and green for other animals. When Leo’s finished, pushpins trail a rainbow of lost pets across Sun Flower—even in the exclusive communities with security gates, where pets should have been protected.

  “Nine dogs, five cats, a goat, and a pig,” Leo says, tapping each location to match the missing pet. “I’m looking for a pattern, but animals have been lost all over Sun Flower.”

  “The pig disappeared downtown.” I walk over to the map and point to a green pushpin. “Wouldn’t someone notice a pig wandering around businesses?”

  “I would,” Leo says.

  “The pig could be back home by now,” Becca says. “Just because we have a flyer doesn’t mean the pet is still lost.”

  “Let’s find out by calling the owners,” I suggest.

  Becca reaches for her cell phone but Leo shakes his head and offers his phone. “It’s programmed to record and auto-transcribe.”

  “You record conversations?” I ask, wondering if that’s even legal.

  “I’ve never had a reason to—before now.” His blue eyes shine eagerly. “As Covert Technology Strategist, I have the latest hi-tech.”

  “Coolness.” Becca smiles as she takes his phone. “I’m the CCSC Social Contact Operative so I’ll make the calls.”

  “And my role as Spy Tactics Specialist is to analyze info,” I add, proud to sound official. “I’ll take notes. Let’s call about the pig first.”

  I read the flyer while Becca calls.

  Two-year-old male potbellied pig, dark-brown, friendly, $50 reward.

  “Hi, I’m calling about your pig,” Becca begins and then nods as she listens.

  I perch on the edge of the bed beside Becca, straining my ears. But all I can hear is Becca saying, “Oh … uh-huh … really?”

  When she finally clicks off, I jump at her. “What did you find out?”

  “Good and weird news.”

  “Weird news first,” I say.

  Leo shrugs. “The order of news has little bearing on the information.”

  “Well, the pig was returned—that’s the good news.” Becca reaches to pet the two dogs curled on the floor by her feet. “Then it gets weird because guess who returned the pig?”

  I arch my brows curiously. “Who?”

  Becca grins. “Santa Claus.”

  “An early Christmas gift,” I play along with her joke. “I wouldn’t want to gift wrap a pig.”

  “The hooves would rip the paper.” Becca taps the pointy hooves on her snoring goat.

  “Santa did not return a pig,” Leo insists. “That’s impossible.”

  “I’m only repeating what I was told,” Becca says in a serious tone, but I catch the twinkle in her eyes. “I guess the guy looked just like Santa, from snowy beard to black boots. She called him Santa, and I wasn’t going to argue with her. So what’s the next phone number?”

  I read off the number for a female dachshund.

  This call takes less than a minute. When Becca clicks the phone off, she reports the dog was found. “He was returned the same day,” she adds.

  “Wow.” I whistle softly. “That was quick.”

  “A mechanic found him rooting in the garbage behind an auto repair shop.” Becca looks over my shoulder as I cross off the dachshund from my list.

  “What did the mechanic look like?” I ask because a good spy gathers all the information.

  “She didn’t say his age or anything, just that he had spider tattoos on his arms.”

  I write down mechanic and spider tattoos then close my file.

  When I glance at a tiger-shaped wall clock, I’m surprised it’s already after five. I have to leave soon, so we hurry through the rest of the calls. Five don’t answer. Of the eleven we do reach, four pets are still missing but eight were returned—three by a guy with spider tattoos.

  “The same guy returned three pets?” I say, reading my notes to make I hadn’t made a mistake.

  “He must
be really good at finding pets,” Becca says.

  “Or it’s a coincidence,” I say.

  “There are no coincidences, only patterns.” Leo taps his fingers on the print-outs. “The dog was only lost for a few hours and the cat was returned the next day. And didn’t that girl, Emma, say her friend’s dog was returned by a tattooed guy?”

  “Could it be the same guy?” I wonder, skimming through my notes. “Three—maybe four—pets returned within a few days. Spider Tattoo works fast.”

  “He’s not the only one.” Leo reads through the flyers, a crease deepening in his forehead. “Two of the dogs were returned by an old guy with a white beard. Who does that sound like?”

  “Santa,” Becca and I answer.

  “And when I called about Jasper, he was returned by an old woman with a cane.” I check my notes. “And the Chihuahua was also found by an old woman.”

  “A pattern emerges,” Leo says as he skims through his flyers. “All owners offering a reward had their pets returned within twenty-four hours. But the four owners who didn’t offer rewards are still missing their pets.”

  “Someone is stealing pets for the rewards!” Becca cries out in outrage.

  “Not someone,” I say with a grim check of my notes. “Spider Tattoo, Santa, and an old woman. It’s a whole crime ring of pet-nappers.”

  - Chapter 15 -

  Secrets and Lies

  That night, I toss and turn and punch my pillow. I always wanted to spy to uncover secrets but what started as a search for a cat-dumper just exploded into a crime spree.

  Stealing innocent animals to con people out of money is cruel. Losing a pet is heartbreaking—even for a few hours. I feel terrible for the four non-reward pets that are still missing. There could be more too, but we won’t know until we can talk to all the owners.

  As I read through the flyers, I’m more certain than ever that the three dogs and cat that are still missing won’t be returned unless their owners offer a reward. But what if the owners can’t afford it? Will their pets ever come home?

  I think of my own dog. I miss Handsome sooo much. I’ve been so busy with the CCSC I haven’t visited Gran Nola in over a week. I plan to visit tomorrow since there’s no club meeting. Leo has flute practice and Becca has plans too—though she said she’d find time to feed the kittens.

  Plans with who? I wonder. Her parents, the Sparklers, or Skeet?

  I ball up my pillow and try to sleep on my side but that doesn’t feel right so I roll onto my back. Moonlight slices through my blinds, casting silvery stripes across my ceiling. The stripes make me think of Becca’s animal print outfits. I think about how exciting it was to rescue the zorse and then find out Becca knew my name. I thought we’ve been getting close—but she lied to me about Skeet.

  Why didn’t she trust me with the truth? I don’t care if she’s going out with him; it’s the lying that hurts.

  Club members—and future best friends—should trust each other.

  Since I can’t sleep, I toss off my blankets and cross the room to the carved wooden chest beneath my window. The decorative molding on the bottom of the chest hides a camouflaged drawer that’s the perfect place to keep my deepest secrets.

  I pull out my notebook of secrets.

  I started the list in fifth grade after a sleepover at Ann Marie’s house when I accidentally overheard her mother tell her aunt that she was getting a divorce. I was shocked and worried about Ann Marie. She thought her parents were happy together. Only I knew they were protecting her and waiting for a trip to Disneyland to break the news.

  So I knew this huge secret but I couldn’t tell anyone. If I told Ann Marie, she’d hate me for finding out before her. And if I told anyone else, it would be a betrayal to Ann Marie. But this secret was like an alien trapped inside my head screaming to get out.

  So I tucked the secret safely between the pages of a plain blue notebook, burying it in my hidden drawer, planning never to look at it again.

  But something unexpected happened—I discovered more secrets. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop at first. Curiosity took over and I started snooping on purpose. Now, I have over a dozen pages of secrets.

  I flip to a new page and write:

  BECCA MORALES: She’s gone out with Skeet but says she doesn’t like him. Why did she lie to me? Does she actually like him or is he blackmailing her into dating him? Can I trust her? More research needed.

  Becca isn’t at school the next day. I ask about her in the office, and a student assistant says she called in sick. How sick? I want to contact her to see if she’s okay, but I don’t have a phone. Leo does though, and I know he’d let me use it. Only we agreed to keep our friendship a secret at school. But it can’t hurt to talk to him just for a minute, right?

  Leo is sitting in his usual spot at lunch, drawing on his tablet with an intent look, totally lost in his thoughts. I stare at the back of his blond hair and mentally command him to look at me. But he doesn’t stop drawing. A tornado could whip the roof off over his head and he still wouldn’t look up.

  Frustrated, I head over to my usual table with Ann Marie and Tori.

  As I pass Becca’s table, I glance at her chair, expecting it to be empty.

  But it isn’t—and I cannot believe who’s sitting in her place.

  What is that Red-Ponytail-Means-Trouble jerk doing with the Sparklers? Not just sitting with them, but flirting! Laughing, he leans close to Sophia and puts his arm around her. Seriously, does Skeet have no loyalty? How can he write a love poem to Becca then hit on her friends?

  If Becca really likes him, she’s going to be hurt.

  But only if someone tells her. And I can’t hurt her like that.

  Add another secret to add to my list, I think with a sigh.

  After school, I bike home instead of going to the Skunk Shack, which feels strange. Mom doesn’t even notice when I enter the living room. She’s focused on the computer, frowning as she scrolls through an official-looking website. Before she knows I’m there, I peer over her shoulder because I’m naturally snoopy.

  “You’re looking for a job!” I say, which startles her so much she whirls around and bumps her shoulder into my elbow.

  “Ow!” I cry, holding my elbow.

  “Kelsey!” Mom rubs her shoulder. “I’ve told you not to sneak up on me.”

  “I wasn’t sneaking. I was reading over your shoulder. So what’s with the job listings? I thought you liked working at the florist shop.”

  “Well, since you must know everything,” Mom says sternly but with a smile, “I do like my job but it’s time for a change.”

  “And a job working for the county would pay more,” I say.

  “That too.”

  “Only you won’t be as happy. You love working with flowers.”

  “You’re too smart for my own good.” Mom reaches out to muss my hair. “So what are you doing home anyway? I thought you were glued to your new friends.”

  “They’re busy.”

  “And you’re feeling left out?” Mom guesses with a raised brow.

  “Now who’s the one who’s too smart?” I retort.

  “Friendships aren’t easy—no matter what age you are,” Mom says, squeezing my hand gently. “Sometimes I worry you’re too quiet. Be open and honest with your friends.”

  Honest? I think about Becca. How can I be honest with a liar?

  Still, Mom has a point. It’s easier for me to listen than talk. I’m so used to spying on people who seem more interesting than me. But since joining CCSC, I’m doing interesting stuff too. And I’ve gained two great friends.

  I realize I shouldn’t judge Becca. Who she dates is not up to me, and I’ll try not to care if she likes a boy I dislike. I’ll tell her she’s the nicest girl I’ve ever met and admit I’m tired of pretending not to like her at school. And I’ll ask her if we c
an be best friends.

  After dinner, while I’m rinsing off dirty dishes, my parents call a family meeting. I shut off the tap and hurry into the living room.

  My stomach knots because the last time we had a family meeting, my parents broke the bad news of losing our house.

  I’m tense when I enter the living room—until I see who’s there.

  “Gran Nola!” I rush over and fall into a soft hug. Gran Nola, my mother’s mom, is short like me but athletic from cycling in competitions and teaching yoga.

  Gran has Handsome with her. My gorgeous golden whip barks excitedly and wags his tail so fast that when I bend down to hug him he almost knocks over a lamp. Dad catches it before it hits the floor. My sisters and brother crowd around Handsome, and we’re all hugging our dog.

  Not a family meeting—a family party!

  We celebrate with a game of Monopoly.

  “I’m going to break the bank,” Dad says, rubbing his hands together like a villain threatening to take over the world.

  “Not if I send you to jail first,” Gran threatens.

  And the game is on!

  We roll dice and laugh and argue—until Kyle buys up the last property and bankrupts everyone.

  When Dad brings out red velvet cupcakes for dessert, we’re all winners.

  Saying good-bye to Gran and Handsome is hard, but I’m still smiling as I go to bed. And I sleep great.

  The next day at school, Becca is back and she’s looks gorgeous in a striped skirt, leather ankle boots, and a scalloped leather jacket over a white blouse. I admire the golden tiger necklace shining around her neck. She’s straightened her dark hair so it falls smoothly down her back.

  Although we’re still keeping our friendship a secret at school, in homeroom she turns around to whisper, “See you at the shack.”

  After school, I reach the Skunk Shack a few minutes before Becca joins me. Leo isn’t there yet—he texted Becca to say he’d be late.

  “I was worried about you yesterday,” I tell Becca as I reach for a can of cat food. There are only three cans left.

  “Worried?” She looks over at me curiously as she fills a water bowl.