by Elle Rush
He started the search as soon as the mall opened the next morning. Nothing impressed clients like fast results.
His first stop was equally inoffensive and unmemorable. Fins and Things was a small store specializing in terrariums and aquariums, and in the fish, lizards, and snakes to fill them. It only had a small bin of toys for other animals. Their biweekly supply order arrived while Decker was in the store, and when they checked the box in front of him, they came up empty. They were definitely off his list.
He hesitated outside Kitten Caboodle, another store on the mall’s main level. Decker peered through the window and was impressed with what he saw. A private animal shelter and adoption center took up half the space; the rest was a fully stocked pet store. This was a place pets and owners would appreciate. Bright, clean, well laid out. He spotted a full aisle of toys running the length of the store, and that didn’t include the stuffed animals tucked among the other merchandise.
Kitten Caboodle was a contender.
Chapter Two
Joy
“Oh, thank you, delivery fairies!” Joy McCall clapped her hands together at the sight of the man wheeling a trolley through the front doors of Kitten Caboodle. She refrained from jumping in deference to the orange kitten on her shoulder. Its little claws were dug in tightly to her navy knit cardigan, but the little thing wasn’t strong enough to withstand that level of shaking.
Joy plucked the cat from her top and set it in the glass-sided display box which acted like a playpen. “In you go, Pumpkin.” The kitten toddled toward the pile of napping fluff balls in the corner. He immediately snuggled with the three nearly identical black brothers who were even tinier than he was. Spooky, Midnight, and Stinky Spice, like Pumpkin, had two speeds: espresso high and asleep. Joy was grateful for the temporary break. It had been kitten-palooza lately.
A pair of teenagers had found Pumpkin near an apartment complex by the mall. Joy offered to hand-feed him until he was fully weaned. A few days later, a pregnant black cat had been left in a box at the shelter’s back door. The poor thing had been in bad shape but still managed to deliver three healthy kittens before she passed away, and Joy volunteered for more foster kitten duty.
It was a twenty-four-hour-a-day job, and had taken a month, but Joy and the cats had survived all the late-night feedings. Fortunately, working in a shelter meant Joy could keep them in the store during her shifts and bundle them up in a carrier for the trips back and forth to her apartment.
After making sure the kittens were settled for the moment, Joy helped unload the boxes full of goodies. Once she signed for them, she was left with four cases of the newest Funsters from North Pole Unlimited’s online catalogue. “Okay, listen up,” she said. The store was empty except for the animals in it. “These toys are for paying customers. No knocking them off shelves. No chewing on the packaging. No playing with them. Paws off.”
Mitzi, the miniature schnauzer Kitten Caboodle had temporarily taken in while her owner was hospitalized, lifted her head from her doggie bed and yawned in Joy’s direction. “Excellent. Good job paying attention, everybody. I should have prefaced that with T-R-E…” All heads in the shop were turned in her direction by the second letter of the word treats. “That’s all I am to you, isn’t it? Your personal chef. Fine. I’ll remember this,” Joy muttered as she began pulling the boxes behind the counter. “You’d miss me if I left.”
The store went silent, and Joy wished she could take it back. But it was true. After years of applying for local veterinary assistant positions, she’d taken the plunge and registered with an employment agency. They hadn’t got back to her yet, but Joy was ever-hopeful that she would find a job in the area.
Something that would give her a bump in pay so she could get a bigger place. Maybe even a house someday. Until a few weeks ago, she hadn’t considered the possibility of owning cats, not where she was currently living. It was next to impossible to find an apartment that would take one pet, let alone four. She needed to find her boys forever homes, but for the moment, Joy was burying her head in the sand.
She wouldn’t give up the ungrateful beasts to just anyone, which was why Kitten Caboodle ran background checks on their customers before they left the shelter with an animal. Every soul in the store went home with an award-winning human. Joy couldn’t keep all their rescue animals, no matter how much she wanted to, so she did her best to make sure they got the best of everything.
That included toys, and NPU products were top notch. The company’s stuffed animals were tear-resistant, and their iron-hide chew toys lasted forever. “Oh, you guys should see the new stuff,” she told them. Joy quickly sorted and shelved the contents of the first two crates, taking a moment to cuddle the fluffy lions and tigers. Another indicator of NPU’s quality was that they didn’t mess around when they shipped things. There was a hole torn in the bottom of the third container, but it looked to have been resealed with packing tape. None the contents listed on the invoice were missing. North Pole Unlimited was a quality outfit all the way around.
Joy was transferring the last of the catnip-stuffed mice into the bin with the latching, pet-proof lid when the dark-haired man who had been staring through the window for the last five minutes finally made his move.
He was cute. Clean-cut. Well-dressed for a casual outfit. His khakis and forest green shirt were nearly new. He didn’t have a jacket, but he didn’t need one for the unseasonably mild late-October weather. Joy didn’t realize how tall he was until he got closer. Her eyes were level with the dimple he had at the side of his mouth. “Hi,” she said.
He stared at her for a second and squinted at the nametag on her chest. “Hello, Joy. I’m Decker.”
“Hi, Decker. Can I help you today?”
“I truly hope so. Do you have any Funsters? It’s a line of pet toys.”
It was an odd request; customers never asked for toys by brand. “Absolutely. Almost a whole aisle full, in fact. Are you looking for anything in particular? Who for? Cat? Small dog? Big dog?” He looked like the big dog type. Not a Rottweiler or pit bull. Maybe a husky.
“I’m looking for a doll. About this big.” He held his hands a foot apart. “It has dark clothes and it moves. Kind of like an army action figure.”
“I didn’t know Funsters came as dolls. I can tell you we don’t have any.” Human-shaped animal toys were never a big seller.
He shook his head insistently. “I happen to know NPU accidentally sent one to a store in the area. Kitten Caboodle was on their list. I really need to find that doll. Can you please double-check your stock?” Decker asked. He took off his Senators cap, as if it would make him appear more earnest.
It worked. The poor fellow looked as disappointed as he sounded. At the rate he was wringing his cap brim, it was going to be a perfect circle by the end of the day. “I think there might be a little left to sort through in this last box,” she relented.
Decker leaned over her shoulder as she emptied the last carton. He smelled like—she inhaled again—sugar cookies. An unusual scent for a man, but it worked for him.
“Lions and tigers and bears. Nothing else,” she said. “Sorry, no doll. I can keep my eyes open if you’d like.”
His frown didn’t last long, but Joy knew she saw it. “That’s okay. Thanks for looking. Maybe I’ll check out your store for a bit,” he said.
“Let me know if you need help.”
She kept an eye on him as he perused everything. Everything. He didn’t seem to have a preference for either cat or dog items. And the man was not afraid to get dirty. Although he had to be six feet tall, he went up on his toes to search the back of the top shelves. Then he knelt to see everything she had on the floor, which was bags of dog food and kitty litter.
“Are you looking for anything in particular? Aside from the doll?” Joy asked as he moved to the last row.
“No.”
As he bent to check the bottom shelf, Joy noticed Pumpkin had abandoned his nap in favor of the new plaything in fro
nt of him. She wasn’t sure how the cat had managed to get up to the top of the playpen’s glass wall, but the kitten was wobbling on the narrow wooden edge.
Then he launched.
Pumpkin’s little legs splayed out. The fur ball didn’t get much lift or distance from his pathetic jump. He just fell. Luckily for him, Decker’s back made the drop only a foot.
Unluckily for Decker, the fleece he was wearing looked thicker than it apparently was.
“Yeow!”
Joy wasn’t sure if the scream came from the man or the cat.
Chapter Three
Decker
Is that what a bed of nails felt like? Decker had been examining the store’s merchandise, looking to see if E.L.V.I.S. was misplaced behind any of the massive bags of dog food, when an unknown assailant jammed a dozen knives into his back. He was ex-police and a private detective; nobody should have gotten the drop on him. He’d scanned the store when he entered. He was the only person in it, aside from Joy. She was unnervingly pretty with her auburn hair and brown eyes, but she hadn’t registered as a cold-blooded killer.
The razors trying to sever his spine moved. Decker tensed his thighs, preparing to spring backward and crush the attacker against one of the metal shelving racks, when a warm hand fell on the back of his neck. He stilled instantly.
“Don’t move,” Joy whispered.
Decker felt a slight pressure, and then the needles were extracted from his skin, one by one. He slowly stood and wondered if he’d get to the emergency room before he bled to death. One of the blades may have hit an artery.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Joy asked.
“I’m not sure.” He wasn’t light-headed, and he was moving okay. There was surprisingly little pain. He might make it.
“I was talking to the cat.”
Cat? Decker turned and found Joy cuddling an orange kitten as she examined its feet. “Pumpkin, what were you thinking? You could have been hurt jumping like that.” The beast in her arms meeped. “Okay, you look fine. No more pouncing on innocent customers, Pumpkin. Say you’re sorry.”
The kitten yawned at him.
“Your cat almost mauled me to death,” Decker said. Cats were vicious, which was why he didn’t have one. Give him a friendly, loyal mutt any day. “You should have it declawed.”
Joy gently hooked one of the kitten’s paws and lifted it. “Pumpkin isn’t a thing. He’s a baby. He has baby claws. See?”
No, he couldn’t. Decker couldn’t see any kind of claw at all. He reached for the offered paw and ran his finger over the pad. Finally, a glimpse of white nail poked the fleshy part of his fingertip before it disappeared again. How had something so tiny caused so much agony?
“Again, I’m sorry. He’s usually such a sweetie. Unlike the terrible trio,” Joy said.
“Terrible trio?”
She cuddled the little cat in her arms and nodded toward the glass case behind him where three black kittens were stretching. They looked utterly harmless. Decker reached into the bin to pet them.
“Do they have names?”
“I call them the Spice Boys. Midnight, Spooky, and Stinky.”
“With big brother Pumpkin Spice?” Decker asked.
Joy smiled and shrugged.
“Spooky and Midnight I get, but why Stinky?”
The little guy rolled over to allow Decker to rub his belly, then let out an eye-watering fart a saber-toothed tiger would have been proud of. “Never mind,” he said.
“Are you okay?” Joy asked.
Decker didn’t have time to process the soft tone in Joy’s words or the spark that flared when she touched his hand because the heat-seeking missile in her arms jumped at him again.
This time the kitten used its claws to scramble up his shirt until it perched on his shoulder. A tickle under his chin built, then disappeared, as the short tail fanned back and forth across his face. “Meep meep,” the kitten chirped before it stuck its nose in Decker’s neck. Two tiny little legs wrapped themselves around his throat. It was a hug.
He wasn’t completely heartless. The little fuzz ball was obviously sorry. “Okay, Punk, enough.”
The cat meeped one more time, then let go and balanced on his shoulder. Decker held perfectly still while Joy lifted the cat off him and replaced it in the glass case. He caught a whiff of something floral and green when a lock of Joy’s hair came untucked from behind her ear and brushed his nose. She was really very pretty. Not that he hadn’t had a chance to notice before, but now she was too close to ignore.
Pretty, kind, funny. It was the ideal cover for somebody who’d steal something from a shipment. Nobody was as perfect as Joy looked.
“Did you find it?” she asked.
“Find what?”
“Whatever you were looking for on the bottom shelf before Pumpkin decided to say hello.”
“I thought somebody else might have put the doll out on a shelf without you knowing about it. Can I leave my number in case you come across the Funster I’m looking for?” He pulled out one of his business cards. Joy slipped it into her shirt pocket, promising to keep an eye out for it. Then he left to hit the final stop on his list.
He found Pure Brewed & Pure Bred on the second floor at the far end of the mall. It was a pet-friendly coffee shop attached to what the sign called a “non-human boutique.” Decker stopped before he crossed the threshold. He’d heard about places like this, but he’d never been forced to enter one before. If he were a dog that had to wear one of the overpriced sweaters he saw in the store’s window, he’d pull a Cujo before his owners knew what was happening. He entered through the coffee shop, figuring he’d ease into his investigation.
The barista gave him a severe once-over before frowning and waving him to the counter. “What can I get you? Drip coffee, black?”
He was going to choke on every mouthful, but it would be worth it. “No, a triple shot grande caramel macchiato with double whip and half and half, and sprinkles, but chocolate only, not the colored ones. Please.” He’d rather have had the French roast drip, black, but he refused to give the judgmental coffee-slinger the satisfaction.
The barista’s pierced eyebrow went up and she nodded slightly, as if he’d somewhat redeemed himself with his answer. “Anything else?”
He glanced at the thin slices of sugar-covered cake in the pastry case but they didn’t appeal to him. He shook his head, and she turned her back to him while she made his order.
Tiny dogs in sweaters. Cats in harnesses and leashes. Decker was pretty sure he saw a ferret in a purse. Those weren’t pets. What was wrong with dogs? Real dogs. Give him a husky or a German shepherd any day, not something he’d kill if he didn’t watch his step. He sipped and saw the barista staring at him expectantly. He pressed his lips together, like he was tasting something unsavory, and walked into the store. The “harrumph” he heard behind him made the sugary swill worth it.
More people, and animals dressed like people, clogged the aisles of Pure Bred. Decker slowly made his way through the store. He had no idea pet owners paid such outrageous amounts for such unnecessary accessories. Did they need to have both hemp and bamboo collar options? And the toys. Two rows of them. “Excuse me, do you have any Funsters?” Decker asked an employee who was restocking a swivel rack displaying birthday cards for birds.
He was met with a sneer. “Funsters? We don’t like to stock a lesser quality brand like that, but we have to since they are so popular with low-end pet owners. They’re in the next aisle over,” the young man with the “Liam” name tag said.
“I’m looking for a special item. Unique. It won’t have been listed on any shipping manifest.”
Liam’s eyes opened wide. “Oh. Oh! I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realize you were one of our unique customers.”
Decker heard the emphasis, despite the fact the shelf stocker’s voice dropped to a whisper on the last two words. What was a unique customer? Did Pure Bred have a secret underground Funster black market operating out of their st
ore? Had other prototypes been sent here accidentally? Or, worse for NPU, on purpose? “Yes, I am a unique customer,” Decker lied.
“We don’t currently have any of the Bombay cats we advertised on our private boards, but our exclusive breeders promised we’ll be receiving a shipment in the next week or so. Since you’re here in person today, we can put you on the waiting list for our first kindle.”
"I don’t want an e-reader. I want a cat." Decker didn’t want a cat either, but he did want access to the suspicious-sounding private boards. If E.L.V.I.S. had been sent to Pure Bred, that seemed like the place he’d find out about it.
"Exactly. We’ll get you set up."
"For what?"
"The first kindle."
Rather than repeat himself, Decker leveled a stare that had made hardened suspects quiver.
His current nemesis teared up. “I wasn’t talking about e-readers. A kindle is a group of kittens,” Liam said.
“Technically, yes, but it’s generally called a litter. Unless you want to sound pretentious. Who do I talk to about a Bombay?” Decker asked. He might not be a cop anymore, but something had his crime-sense tingling. The fact the college-aged retail worker still hadn’t answered his question about whether or not E.L.V.I.S. had been shipped to the store hadn’t gone unnoticed either.
Liam led him past the checkout counter to the manager’s office in the back. “Miss Drummond, this customer is interested in a unique item,” he told his boss.
“Two items,” Decker corrected. “I’m looking for one particular Funster which may have been shipped to your store. A moveable figurine, twelve inches tall, dressed somewhere between a G.I. Joe and a Ken doll. I want it. Also, tell me about the cats.”