The Case of the Missing Cats

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The Case of the Missing Cats Page 5

by Gareth P. Jones


  ‘I’m so glad you’re OK,’ she said. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake up.’

  ‘Why? How long have I been out?’

  ‘Three days,’ replied Holly.

  Dirk crawled on all fours across the room and settled behind his desk. ‘What happened to me?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t you remember?’ replied Holly. ‘You rescued the cats then you passed out.’

  ‘The cats, yes, that’s right. I swam out, something was holding on to the crate. I bit into it then it all went black.’

  ‘What do you mean, something was holding on to it? Like what?’ asked Holly.

  ‘I don’t know, but whatever it was tasted pretty bad. Was your cat in the crate?’

  ‘Yes, you saved Willow. Thank you so much. She means more to me than anything. I can pay you. I’ve got some money saved.’

  ‘That’s great, kiddo, but right now I’m more interested in how I got myself across London unconscious? That sounds pretty impressive even for me.’

  ‘I got Mrs Klingerflim to come and pick us up.’

  ‘Mrs Klingerflim . . .’ started Dirk anxiously.

  ‘Don’t worry. She doesn’t know,’ interrupted Holly. ‘She really is blind. The scariest roller coaster in the world has nothing on a short road trip with that woman. I told her you were ill and she gave me this home-made medicine.’ Holly held up a bottle of distinctly dubious-looking brown liquid and handed it to Dirk.

  Dirk opened the bottle and sniffed cautiously.

  ‘Apparently it used to work wonders on her poor Ivor,’ said Holly.

  Dirk lifted it to his mouth and sipped. It tasted revolting, like boiled cabbage and sewage.

  ‘Eurgh!’ he said. ‘It’s no wonder the poor man died.’

  Holly laughed.

  ‘Well,’ he said, putting the bottle down. ‘I guess I owe you one. Thanks. But, if you’ve got your cat then the case is closed. Why are you still around?’

  ‘Closed? It’s far from closed. Look at these.’ She slammed the pile of the papers on the desk between them.

  Dirk reached out a paw, twisted the top paper round and read out loud, ‘“Allotment owners complain of stolen vegetables. ‘It’s a case of bean and gone,’ said allotment owner, Len Cooper”’

  ‘The story above that,’ said Holly impatiently. Dirk read:

  CAT-ASTROPHE

  Police flummoxed by the mass disappearance of pet cats in London.

  The second paper read:

  CAT BURGLARS STRIKE AGAIN

  Londoners board up their cat flaps as cat theft increases by 340%.

  And another:

  CAT-CH ME IF YOU CAN

  Cat thieves continue to evade the authorities as more moggies go missing.

  ‘We rescued those cats, but there’s loads more still missing. I heard those two crooks say it was their fourth time down to the river. What’s happened to the poor cats in the other three crates? What are they doing with them?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Dirk. ‘Have you gone to the police?’

  ‘The police? No way. This is our case,’ replied Holly. ‘Look, I’ll tell you what I’ve found out . . .’

  ‘No,’ interrupted Dirk, remembering the resolution he had made while swimming in the Thames. ‘This isn’t our case. It’s my case. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, kiddo, I really am . . .’

  ‘What? For saving your life?’

  ‘Yeah, for that,’ said Dirk. ‘But I can’t let you get involved. You’re only a kid and you’re only a human. I suggest you go home, board up your cat flap and hold on to Willow, but this isn’t your case any more.’

  Holly stared angrily at Dirk. ‘Not my case? If it wasn’t for me you’d still be lying by the Thames or possibly in it.’

  ‘It’s for your own good.’

  ‘How do you know anything about my own good?’ Holly stared intently into his large, yellow eyes.

  Dirk glanced around his office. There was something odd about it. It took him a moment to work out what. It was tidy. In fact, it was more than tidy. It was clean. All the empty baked-bean tins and bottles of orange squash had been thrown away, the newspapers piled neatly into a corner and the details of previous cases had been picked up and actually filed in the filing cabinet. The broken desk had been propped up on old phone directories. Tentatively he pulled open a desk drawer. The paperclips, pens and pencils had all been sorted into different colours. The drawer had even been lined with floral paper. He lowered his nose and sniffed. It was even worse than he had thought. It was scented paper.

  ‘How much time have you spent here?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve been here every day,’ replied Holly, ‘working on the case.’

  ‘And what about school? What about your parents?’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about them,’ said Holly casually.

  ‘And yet I find I am worried. Look, kiddo, I don’t want any trouble and if you keep sneaking off here instead of going to school that’s exactly what you’ll attract.’

  ‘My parents think I am going to school.’

  ‘And what about your school?’

  ‘They think I’m at home with the flu. I do an amazing impression of my dad’s wife, if I do say so myself.’

  ‘And they don’t suspect a thing?’

  ‘I’ve done it before. I’ve been to quite a few schools in my time. I know the systems.’

  ‘How many schools?’

  ‘One . . . two . . . three . . .’ Holly counted out on her fingers. ‘Four . . . five schools,’ she announced proudly.

  ‘Right,’ said Dirk. ‘And if you’re so good at this, why do you keep getting expelled?’

  ‘I wasn’t expelled from all of them. The first one I had to leave because we moved down to London. Dad was working here a lot. He’s a politician. He works in the Ministry of Defence, and his big-haired wife was worried that he might start playing up if left to his own devices. So we moved down to join him. That was the only school I liked.’

  ‘But you were expelled from the other four?’

  ‘Three. This is my fifth now. Anyway, they’re bound to find out some time, but I’ve only just started this one, so I reckon I’ve got a good few months before either of them figure it out. Honestly, my parents don’t really care what I do as long as I stay out of their way.’

  ‘Listen, I’m not a child counsellor and I’m not an educational psychologist and if you want to mess up your own education and never learn to read or write . . .’

  ‘I can read and write very well, thanks, and do maths and art and science and I’m teaching myself the trumpet. I just get my education from places other than school.’

  ‘Again, you’re confusing me with someone who gives a rat’s bandana. I really don’t care what you do with your life, but you’re not getting involved with this case.’

  Holly looked down and placed her head in her hands and began to wail, but Dirk instantly interrupted her. ‘And don’t think that’s going to work again,’ he said sternly.

  Holly stopped dead, looked up, her eyes dry and clear, and said, ‘I’ve got information.’

  ‘What information?’

  ‘Like who owns the warehouse.’

  ‘The warehouse? How did you . . .’

  ‘I told you, I get my education from places other than school. I heard those crooks talking about a Mr G. I did a little research and I think I know what the G stands for.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Are we partners, then?’ asked Holly pulling out a piece of paper.

  ‘Give me that,’ said Dirk, reaching out to grab it. Holly whipped it away quickly.

  ‘Partners?’ she said, maintaining eye contact.

  Dirk stared into the girl’s brown eyes. He could easily take the paper from her by force, but it just didn’t seem right. She had saved his life. She had been both brave and resourceful back at the river and now she had found a vital clue. And he was already too far behind with the case, having spent the last three days unconsc
ious. He bowed his head and muttered, ‘OK.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ smiled Holly. ‘I can’t hear you?’

  ‘OK,’ said Dirk louder, ‘but just this case. And you do what I say, all right?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Holly.

  ‘And you’re still the most annoying human I’ve ever met.’

  Holly stretched out her spare hand and Dirk met her with his paw. They shook and, with a triumphant look upon her face, Holly passed over the document.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dirk grabbed the piece of paper and read. The property was owned by a Mr V. Grandin. The name rang a bell, but it wasn’t a big bell like the one you heard before the news at ten. It was softer, like the sort of bell an old lady might have on a bicycle, quiet but persistent enough to nag at you.

  ‘The warehouse is registered under the company name of Gronkong Shinard Plc,’ said Holly. ‘I checked your previous cases while I was filing them. You haven’t got any record of a Gronkong Shinard. I called Company House, where they keep a record of all registered companies in the country, but they didn’t have any other information on it. Grandin is also a bit of a mystery. He’s not listed in the phone book. And there’s no mention of him on the Internet.’

  ‘Good research,’ said Dirk, trying not to sound too impressed, ‘But this case calls for some good old-fashioned groundwork.’ He grabbed a large coat and hat from the hat stand behind the door. ‘Sorry, kiddo, can’t take you on this one.’

  ‘But we’re partners,’ said Holly. ‘That means doing everything together.’

  ‘Sorry,’ replied Dirk. ‘There are some places I just can’t take you.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ said Holly, picking up a phone directory, opening it up and lifting the receiver.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Hiring a detective to follow you,’ she replied, dialling a number.

  Dirk whipped out his tail and knocked the phone off the table, yanking the receiver out of Holly’s hand. It landed heavily on the floor.

  Holly pulled out some change from her pocket. ‘I’ll just go and use the phone box,’ she said.

  Dirk scowled at her. He growled at her. Black smoke billowed from his nostrils but the brown-haired, brown-eyed girl just smiled back at him defiantly. He looked away in frustration then up in thought. The trail of smoke from his nose turned light grey and took shape, forming into a dragon’s head.

  ‘I guess as long as no one else sees her . . .’ Dirk muttered to himself. ‘The Shade-Hugger isn’t stupid enough to say anything . . . not with everything that I’ve got on him . . .’ The smoke dragon dissipated and Dirk said to Holly, ‘All right, but it’s at your own risk.’

  Holly put the phone back on the desk. ‘Great,’ she said, grinning.

  Dirk looked at the clock. The big hand was pointing to the right, the small hand, downwards. He scratched his head.

  ‘It’s a quarter past six,’ said Holly helpfully.

  ‘I knew that,’ he snapped. ‘Here,’ he said, throwing the hat and coat at Holly.

  ‘Why do I need these?’ she asked, catching them.

  ‘They’re not for you. Come on, let’s go.’

  ‘Hold on,’ said Holly and she opened a carton of milk and poured it into a bowl in the corner of the room. A cat miaowed and Willow appeared from under the table.

  ‘Why is there a cat in my office?’ asked Dirk coldly.

  ‘She’s safer here,’ replied Holly. ‘You wouldn’t want her to get stolen again, would you?’

  Dirk groaned. ‘As long as she doesn’t do anything,’ he said, eyeing the animal suspiciously.

  ‘What, like mess up the place?’ laughed Holly. ‘I don’t think you need any help with that.’

  Dirk pulled up the blind and checked the street. A grey Mercedes with a white stripe was parked illegally on the double-yellow lines. Next to it stood a man in a long raincoat and a wide-brimmed hat. He looked up and Dirk backed away from the window. One of the reasons he liked the spot was the fact that cars couldn’t park below. It lessened the chances of being seen jumping out of the window. Luckily the traffic wardens were a voracious lot and no one ever got away with it for long. Sure enough, after a moment Dirk saw two of them hurrying towards the car. The man in the long coat dived into the car and drove away, leaving the disappointed traffic wardens to head off in search of their next victim.

  ‘Come on, let’s go,’ said Dirk.

  ‘Are we going back to the warehouse?’ asked Holly.

  ‘No. Here, hold these.’ And he grabbed a couple of bags of assorted liquorice sweets and handed them to Holly. She stuffed them in her pockets and climbed on to his large, red back, carefully positioning the hat and coat between her and the dragon.

  Dirk pushed open the window, glanced down again and then leapt on to the neighbouring roof.

  Bathed in the reddish glow from the setting sun, the rooftops of London looked even more magical to Holly this evening. She was doing her best to think tough like a proper detective, but looking down at the yellow lamps and the people below going about their humdrum lives, unaware of the dragon leaping over their heads, she couldn’t help but feel excited and special.

  Dirk decided it was time to tell Holly about the catnapping dragons he had witnessed. As they travelled, he described how he had followed the Mountain Dragon to the warehouse and then narrowly avoided being seen by the Sea Dragon shortly afterwards.

  ‘Wow, so there are loads of dragons in London,’ said Holly. ‘What do you think they’re doing with the cats?’ she asked. ‘You don’t think they’re eating them, do you?’

  ‘Not likely,’ replied Dirk. ‘Unlike humans, dragons don’t eat other animals,’

  ‘Not all humans. I’m a vegetarian too,’ said Holly.

  ‘You choose not to eat meat. For us it’s death to consume the body of another living creature.’

  Holly looked around at their surroundings. She was lost. ‘Where are we?’ she asked.

  ‘We’re in Greenwich,’ replied Dirk.

  ‘What’s in Greenwich?’

  ‘Well, there’s a nice market, a naval college, a couple of good pubs and a lovely park,’ joked Dirk.

  ‘I mean, what’s in Greenwich for us?’

  ‘The underground.’

  ‘We’re getting the tube?’

  ‘Something like that,’ replied Dirk and he jumped on to a large clock tower and scampered up its side, gaining enough height to spread his wings and glide down on to a row of houses. He ran across the houses then sailed over a glass-topped market place. One more jump and he landed on a flat pub roof next to a concrete concourse beside the River Thames. Holly stopped herself from squealing with excitement like she was on the best roller-coaster ride in the world ever.

  She dismounted and looked down. In the middle of the concourse was an old tall ship that she remembered was called the Cutty Sark and by its side a cylindrical concrete structure with a green dome-like top.

  ‘That’s the entrance to the pedestrian tunnel under the Thames,’ said Dirk, pointing to the structure.

  ‘I know,’ replied Holly. ‘I came here on a school trip once.’

  ‘You went on a school trip?’ said Dirk disbelievingly.

  ‘It wasn’t my school. I’d had an argument with my dad’s wife, so I ran away and then I saw a coach and just jumped on it. It turned out to be a school trip, so I pretended I went to their school.’

  Dirk laughed, ‘You’re growing on me, kiddo. Now, give me the hat and coat.’

  Holly handed him the giant coat. Laughter rose up from the pub garden below. Someone dropped a glass. It smashed on the ground, receiving a round of applause and a drunken cheer.

  Dirk pulled the coat over his shoulders, covering his wings. He tucked his long nose under his chin and buttoned it up. Next he put the hat over his head and pulled it down. He swished his tail twice and then curled it up behind him, making the coat taut and strangely shaped. He took a step back and said in a muffled voice, ‘How do I
look?’

  Holly looked at him. Although he had succeeded in hiding his distinctive dragon features he still looked pretty bizarre. Even with his tail tucked in and his head bowed he was still taller than the average human adult. Then there were the large yellow eyes that glowed from under the wide-brimmed hat. Not to mention the bulges of his nose and tail, which made it look as though he suffered from terrible growths.

  ‘This normally works, does it?’ asked Holly doubtfully.

  ‘Well, tell me,’ muttered Dirk, ‘do I look like the sort of person you want to strike up a conversation with?’

  ‘No,’ said Holly honestly.

  ‘Then it works,’ said Dirk. ‘Come on.’ He looked over the edge of the building and, sure that no one was looking, grabbed Holly round her waist and jumped down, landing heavily on the concrete ground without the use of his wings to ease the impact.

  He put her down and they walked quickly to the tunnel entrance, moving with the shadows and avoiding eye contact with passing strangers. Dirk led them down a large spiral staircase that encircled the lift.

  At the bottom they headed down the long tunnel under the river. The lift opened behind them and a young couple got out.

  Dirk slowed his pace. ‘Let them overtake,’ he muttered.

  As the couple passed they glanced back at them and it occurred to Holly how strange they must look. She tried to act normally but it was difficult with the strange figure in the overcoat towering above her.

  Dirk kept a slow pace and it wasn’t long before the couple had disappeared round the corner. He stopped. ‘Through this door,’ he said.

  ‘What door?’ asked Holly.

  Dirk pulled an old rusty key from his jacket pocket and pushed it into a hole in the wall, where it looked like a couple of tiles had fallen away. He turned the key and pushed the wall with his shoulder, revealing a door. ‘In,’ he said.

 

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