by A M Bostwick
The back screen door bumped open, and Lily came through, balancing a small paper plate filled with our lunch.
“Eat up! I had Meaty Beast earlier,” Lily said, serving us the goodies.
“You’re the best, Lily,” I said, mouth full of beef. Gosh, this was way better than Kuddly Kitty Krunchies.
After a few moments of silence and munching, Lily twitched and looked ready to burst.
“Alright, you two!” she said, irritated. “What are you up to? I know it’s something sensational.”
Lily loved gossip as much as she loved her corny romance books.
“Ruby the Russian,” Sloan spilled the beans. Or maybe the beef, dripping down his chin.
“Ruby? Is that so?” Lily asked with interest. “Her missing poster is on our front register and our front window. What a shame.” She clucked her tongue.
“We’re trying to find out not only where she is, but if she’s been stolen,” I added, knowing quite well it was no good keeping a secret from Lily.
“Stolen? Truly?” Lily meowed, wide-eyed. “She’s a super famous show cat.”
I pulled out a carrot dripping in beef juices.
“Yes. My journalistic tendencies tell me there’s more to this story than a simple cat gone missing,” I confessed. “The McMahon dog, Aero, has hired me to solve the mystery. Sloan is helping me.”
“You boys and your mysteries,” Lily drawled in mock shame. “But I must admit, you did a great job a few months ago. If anyone can bring Ruby home, it’s you.”
“What have you heard around the coffee shop about Ruby? Anything?” I asked, ignoring and feeling sheepish at Lily’s compliment. I never learned to properly accept praise, and I was still nervous about diving back into detective work.
“Oh, people are talking about it, but only a bit when they see the poster, nothing useful,” Lily said. “I see Ruby in the cat show magazines every so often. Gosh, she’s so pretty. What I wouldn’t give for a day at her groomer.”
“I don’t think it’s everything it’s cracked up to be,” I said. “Don’t you think it would be tough? Having to look perfect all the time?”
“Nope.”
Despite Lily’s unsympathetic attitude, I could tell she was thinking about it.
“Do you have any magazines around with articles about Ruby?” I questioned.
“Hmmm. Let me go look. Need some water?”
“Sure.”
Lily disappeared for a few moments while Sloan and I licked our paws, faces, and whiskers clean after the satisfying lunch. Lily came back outside, this time pulling a magazine with her teeth and rolling a bottle of water with her paws. Like Anne, Lily knew how to multitask. The screen door bumped shut behind her. While Sloan and I wrestled the bottle open to get a drink, Lily slowly pawed through the pages of the glossy magazine featuring every chic cat breed I could imagine.
“Here she is!” Lily spun the magazine around so I could get a better look, Sloan peering over my shoulder.
“Wow,” he breathed.
Wow indeed. A full two-page, color spread featured none other than Ruby the Russian of Lakeville, Wisconsin. Her perfect blue-gray hair sprinkled with silver was thick and glossy, her eyes clear and sparkling. The reporter had done a decent job explaining Ruby’s many accomplishments and awards, as well as detailed tips on keeping a cat looking as good as her. It sure was something, seeing a feature like this on a local feline.
“Well, private eye? Now what?” questioned Sloan.
“Now, we hurry up and wait.”
CHAPTER SIX
By the time I entered the newspaper office it was late afternoon, and the sun had disappeared to nap behind a few clouds. I was ready to do the same. Sloan had gone home, but not before I warned him about calling Dos and Tres for business reasons only. The last thing we needed was a cat turning disagreeable due to a bad date.
“I was wondering where you were, Ace,” Max said, happily typing away at his computer. I knew he was almost done for the day and looking forward to some late season fishing on this unusually warm Wisconsin October day. He polished off a can of microwave cheesy macaroni, tossing the empty container in the trash. Being a busy journalist with odd hours, Max rarely ate anything he couldn’t nuke in three minutes or less.
I leapt to my bed atop the filing cabinet and began to nest around for the perfect spot. My own microwave beef had my belly full and my eyelids heavy. While disappointed there was no news of a ransom note, I still felt confident one would arrive by the end of tonight.
I had been dozing for more than half an hour, softly lulled into sleep by the steady click-clack of computer keys when I was jarred awake by a knock at Max’s office door.
“Max? There’s a Madeline here who said you wanted to see her after we finished her ad,” Nicole, a graphic designer, said. Max smiled and stood to shake the hand of the woman who entered. I opened my eyes. She was tall, leggy, and blonde. She’d be beautiful if not for the pinched lines of worry around her mouth and her watery eyes, red-rimmed and exhausted.
“Hello, Madeline. I’m Max,” he introduced himself. “I’m sorry to hear about your missing cat, Ruby. Please, have a seat. This is my cat, Ace.”
I sat up and trilled in acknowledgement, hoping she wouldn’t notice my claws hadn’t been trimmed lately and my whiskers were askew. Flaws aside, Madeline smiled at me.
“He’s lovely; so black and shiny,” she observed. I purred in recognition, embarrassed by her compliments.
“Ace was a stray. The office lets me bring him in when I’m at work, which is a lot. Good thing Ace doesn’t seem to mind hanging out here at the newspaper,” Max said. “I think he prefers it to my stuffy apartment!”
Madeline tried to smile at his joke, but it was lost somewhere along a thin, wan line.
“Excuse me a moment, please,” Max said. Max darted into the break room, reappearing with two steaming Styrofoam cups of coffee. He offered one to Madeline, which she accepted.
“Don’t worry, many people drink my coffee and go on to lead fairly normal lives,” Max tried joking again. Sitting down, he took out his notebook and clicked his pen open. It hovered over the blank pages. “I’d like to help you find your cat. What can you tell me about her?”
Madeline sighed. “Ruby was a gift from my father. She was just a kitten,” she began. “My father showed cats as a hobby, and thought a Russian Blue would be just the right way to get my interest sparked. It did, and Ruby just loved the show circuits.”
Ruby’s companion smiled in memory. From her purse, she pulled a small photo album and handed it to Max to flip through as she spoke.
“It seemed like she belonged in the shows. Right away, as young as six months old, Ruby was winning ribbons and awards. Entire cat shows by the time she was nine months old. So docile and loving, she never minded the hectic pace; though she was always happy to come home and see the family dog, Aero, and spend time there.”
“She’s a real stunner,” marveled Max. Viewing the photos from my perch, I had to agree. “What happened the day she disappeared?”
“It was a day like any other. My husband, Horace, went to work. I left for a ladies’ society meeting, and Ruby was home with Aero, the housekeeper, and the gardener. I came home around noon, and Aero was terribly upset. Tess, our housekeeper, didn’t know what had gotten into him. But I knew right away.”
Max looked up expectantly.
“Ruby was gone,” Madeline choked on a fresh sob. She paused a moment, then continued after Max handed her a tissue box. “Thank you. I looked everywhere. Aero had his nose to the ground, running all over the house and grounds. It was no use. Ruby wasn’t there. I called all our neighbors, then went to houses throughout the neighborhood and beyond. My sister helped me search, but she was nowhere to be seen. Just gone.”
“Now, I’m sure she is safe and sound somewhere,” Max soothed as he jotted notes. “She obviously has a loving home she wants to get back to.”
Aero’s story fit perfectl
y with Madeline’s, like turkey on top of chicken.
“I’ve distributed fliers all over the city to businesses and homes. Now I’ve taken out a full page ad in your newspaper. I’m trying to reach everyone so that if they come across her, they know where to return her,” Madeline said, staring into her coffee as though it might tell her the answers she sought. “I checked the local animal shelters yesterday and today, a few times actually, and of course they know to call me if a cat with her description comes in.”
“Forgive me for asking, Madeline, but would anyone steal Ruby?”
Indeed. My fellow city editor and I did think alike.
Madeline sniffed. “Oh, I just can’t imagine anyone doing that to poor Ruby. Or to us. Everyone loves Ruby, sure, but I don’t think anyone would take her,” she said.
“Is she valuable? I don’t know much about purebred fancy cats,” Max laughed, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in my direction. “He’s a mixed breed and shy. If I ever tried to put him in a show, I think he’d claw my eyes out.”
That’s right, buddy.
“Well, sure. Russian Blues cost a bit. And I guess because she’s won so many titles, someone might see her as a commodity. Some of those cat breeders are terrible people...cat mills and puppy mills. I can’t stand the thought of it. I believe in adopting homeless animals, I truly do,” Madeline explained. “Aero came to us as a puppy from a pound, after all.”
Madeline took a breath. “You don’t think someone would steal Ruby to breed her, do you? She’s spayed after all. It’s not as though she could have a litter.”
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” replied Max. “You know us journalists, we always think the worst.”
“I never showed her for fame or fortune. I only wanted Ruby to be happy,” Madeline said, tucking the photos back inside her purse.
“Don’t worry. I’ll write up a story, and we’ll try to call as much attention to her as we can to find her,” Max promised.
Madeline nodded, but I could clearly see the thought of someone stealing Ruby lingered on her mind.
***
Still no ransom calls. No ransom note. No ransom anything.
I was beginning to think my detective abilities were as sharp as the x-bites in Kuddly Kitty Krunchies.
I paced the empty newspaper office, inhaling the fresh scent of newly printed black and white. Madeline’s ad would run the following day. Max’s story would be posted online tonight and ready for the next print issue; he had forgone fishing to make sure of it. There was no doubt in my mind that soon everyone in the city would know Ruby the Russian was missing. The only question was, what would the captor ask to return her safely? Coming face-to-face with Ruby’s companion today had instilled me with one notion: Ruby was deeply loved. I saw absolutely no reason for her to run away.
First on the agenda, there was still the not-quite-empty cheesy macaroni container calling my name. Pondering my stalled case as I licked it clean, I finished and pushed it aside. I then turned on the speakerphone, dialing Angel’s number from memory.
“Hello?” Claire answered. “Um, hello? Hellloooo?” She hung up. I waited another beat.
The white Persian with a diamond collar came on the extension with a purr.
“Hellllooo?”
“Hello, beautiful. This is your old pal, Ace.”
“Ace! How lovely to hear your voice. I was expecting a call from Claire’s new love interest. I do like to listen in. What do I owe the pleasure, dear?”
I laid down by the phone. “I’m investigating a story concerning Ruby the Russian. Might you know her?”
“Ruby? Sure. She and I visit the same groomer and pet spa. I don’t see her often, but we do run into one another on occasion. Why? What’s wrong with her?”
I told her an abbreviated version of events.
“Oh, Ace! That’s just terrible! Who would do such a thing?” she cried.
“Criminals, Angel, criminals. What can you tell me about Ruby?”
Angel paused. “Well, just that she’s one of the nicest cats I know. She isn’t stuck up or snobby or anything. With a coat like hers, she has the right to be—but she’s not. Sweet as fresh cat grass, that one.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“Ohhhhh, let’s see now. I suppose it was last month at the spa. She was having a deep conditioning treatment, and I was having a blow out,” Angel recited.
There was nothing in that for me. I pressed on. “Uh-huh. What kind of mood would you say Ruby was in?”
“Ruby was the same as any other day. Cheery and friendly. Always calm, never out of sorts or angry. For all the prodding, combing, and clipping they did to her before her shows, I can’t say I would ever be as patient as Ruby.”
“I see. Do you have any other spa friends who know Ruby? Anyone who might be able to lend a clue?” I tried.
“I don’t understand, Ace. How could they help? They wouldn’t steal her.”
“No, but I’m trying to establish Ruby’s contacts. Anyone who might have had a motive to cat-nap her.”
“I just shudder when you say cat-nap. It’s so scary!” Angel said, aghast.
“Are you sure no contacts come to mind?” I tried again.
“Well, if I had to choose someone who might have some fishy motives, it would be Ellin.”
My ears perked up, and I leaned closer to the speakerphone. “Ellin? Why do you say that?”
“She comes to the spa with her three cats sometimes when Ruby comes in. I don’t like those three cats, two of them I dislike for sure—” Angel gossiped.
“Back to Ellin—”I began.
“They think they’re so great, like their litter box doesn’t stink—”
“Right. About Ellin—” I tried again.
“—I think Ruby’s companion and Ellin are related.”
“Sisters,” I confirmed, glad her attention had returned.
“Well, that explains it. I knew they ran some of the cat show circuits together. You don’t have to take my word for it, Ace, but something about the way Ellin looked at Ruby just wasn’t nice.”
“In what way, Angel?” I asked, clicking my claws against the faux grain of the desk.
The Persian thought for a moment, trying to find the exact right word.
“Contempt, Ace. Pure contempt. It’s like she’s mad at her. I don’t see why. Her own three cats are lovely, even if they are a little snippy.”
I considered that. “How does Ellin treat Uno, Dos, and Tres?”
“The three cats? Oh, fine, I’d say. They are pampered quite well. Though I think they spend more time with the maid than with Ellin herself. They don’t seem to mind. I would.”
“From the little you know of Ellin, do you think she’s capable of theft?”
“Of Ruby? Oh, goodness gracious, I just don’t know. I hate to think anyone is capable of such a deed, much less a relative,” she said.
“I see. Angel, you’ve been a great help. Let’s catch up for lunch someday before the snow flies.”
“I’d like that, Ace.”
I exchanged goodbyes with Angel and shut off the speakerphone.
Online, I pulled up a search engine for public court records. I searched the gardener and groundskeeper, John Sweet. A seatbelt fine back in 2008; not exactly a hardened criminal. I tried the maid, Tess Vatter. Not a single hit.
I let out a huge sigh and looked at the clock. It was nearly 9 p.m, and still no ransom note. This troubled me more than a knot in a yarn ball. Furrowing my brow, I curled on Max’s chair and outlined my plan for tomorrow: check on Ellin’s alibi.
CHAPTER SEVEN
In the world of newspaper journalism, it’s all about timing.
Deadline after deadline, a reporter must be on top of every breaking story, every interesting lead, and every move that will happen next. Otherwise, BAM! You miss that deadline, and someone scoops you faster than an automated litter box. It’s not to say you can be a haphazard reporter, however. Meticulous
steps are necessary, recreating the entire scene if necessary, and ultimately finding sources who will give you all you need to know. Then, finding the truth.
Armed with that knowledge, I knew I had to recreate the disappearance of Ruby the Russian with careful precision. I had to investigate each of my suspects with the utmost care and configure who exactly had the motive, time, and place to cat-nap the valuable cat. My witnesses had run dry. It was time to check on the alibi of Ellin, the suspicious and jealous sister of Ruby’s companion, Madeline. Also, my only concrete suspect.
A cloudy fall day was slowly dawning, the sky beginning to glow an icy shade of orange. Sloan waited for me at Lily’s back door bright and early. Yawning, Lily motioned for us to come inside for a cup of milk. It was 5 a.m., and the shop opened for customers in an hour. Anne was busy out front brewing coffee, pulling chairs from tables and setting up the menu next to the register for the day.
“Here’s some milk with extra cream and sugar, boys,” Lily said, stifling another yawn.
“You’re the best, Lily,” Sloan replied.
“What would we do without you?” I purred, lapping the sugary treat.
“Any news of a ransom yet, Ace?” she asked, pleased at my praise.
I shook my head.
“What does it mean, Ace?” Sloan asked.
“Maybe the captor wants to make the family sweat a bit more. You know, let them miss Ruby before he asks for all the goods.”
Sloan nodded.
“So you’re checking on Ellin’s alibi today?” Lily questioned.
“That’s right. Say, Lily, do you know any animals nearby who might be able to verify it? I was planning to visit Farfel again, but I’m not actually sure if he’ll know anything useful. He lives too far from downtown.”
“Pfft. Farfel only knows rumors. Dogs are such gossips,” Lily said. “But if you wait until at least six, Birdie might be able to tell you something. She’s a longhair elderly cat who lives just above Ellin’s Cozy Quilting and Supplies. She’s in Apartment 2A. Sometimes, I bring her deliveries. She doesn’t get out much at her age. Birdie watches out her window all day and all night long. Never goes out, nothing gets by her.”