Misty Hollow Cat Detective (Darcy Sweet Mystery) (A Smudge the Cat Mystery Book 1) (12 page)

When items started disappearing from the house, Eva knew exactly who was doing it, and why.  Zane was taking the things that were important to Heidi.  Then he was going to take her.  Eva was terrified of him.  She was afraid if she went to the police, Zane would get violent.  She hadn't ever asked anyone for help. 
Until now.

Sometimes, I really don't understand people.

I had raced off to Twistypaws as soon as I knew what was going on.  When I told her everything, she had her own idea of how to help.  I told her it as a bad idea.  I argued until my voice was hoarse but she can be very stubborn when she wants to be.  In the end, I didn't have any choice.  Gritting my teeth, closing my eyes and sighing, I told her to go get her plan ready.

I just know I'm going to regret it.

It was getting dark now, the sun falling slowly toward the horizon.  This was beginning to look like one more night of nothing happening.  I hope not.  Jon and Darcy are still trying to figure out a mystery of their own, about a woman who died in a fire.  I don't know how much time they'll be able to give to this problem on top of the other.  There's only so many hours in a day.  Even for a cat.

Shadows move across the backyard.  Aha. 
Looks like we weren't wrong after all.

The same hulking man with the big hands slips through the backyard. 
Zane.  I can see him easily enough.  I hope Jon and Darcy can see him, too.

Racing around to the back, I see him throwing his shoulder against the door to break it in.  He's not trying to be stealthy anymore.  Desperate men will do desperate things.  Worse, I sense the same anger from him now that I did before.  I have to stop him.  Hissing, jumping, snarling, I sink my claws into his leg.

I am absolutely insane.

Screaming loudly, Zane spins and almost loses his balance.  My sanity returns in a rush and I jump away from him.  Cowering back—ahem, I mean, taking a defensive position—I wait to see what Zane will do next.  He rubs his leg and mumbles something about how annoying pets are, and then he positions himself to ram his upper body into the door one more time.

"Don't move!  Police!"

I've never been so happy to hear Jon's voice. 
Ever.  I swear to you.

Jon and Darcy are coming around the same side of the house.  Zane doesn't waste any time in running the opposite way.  It looks like he's going to make the fence
line again.  If he does, he'll escape one more time.

A brown mastiff dog, the same one who had nearly snapped me in two for taking the neighbor kid's toy away from him, suddenly bursts into view.  Snarling and barking loud enough to hurt my ears the dog blocks Zane's path.

Zane stopped so quickly that his feet went out from under him, landing him on his backside.  I don't blame him, really.  The mastiff was half as tall as the man, with nasty pointed teeth and an obvious intent to kill.

Except that I knew he wasn't here to kill anyone.  Butch is just here to scare Zane.  Thanks to the cute cat at his heels.

Twistypaws.  She winks at me now, very proud of herself.  This was her idea, the one I was so completely against.  Now that I see Butch standing over Zane, lips peeled back from his teeth, slobbering all over Zane's chest, I have to admit.  This was genius. 

I still don't like this dog.  But he's maybe not
so bad as I thought he was.

As Jon inches closer to Zane, carefully ey
eing big dog Butch, Twist whispers something to the mastiff.  He nods once, then snorts out a spray of snot across Zane's face before turning and bounding away.

Jon stares after him, obviously not believing what he had just seen.  Whatever he's thinking it doesn't keep him from putting handcuffs around Zane's wrists and pinning his arms behind his back.  He monologues Zane's rights and tells him he's under arrest and I suddenly don't dislike the man as much as I used to.

Hey.  I'm trying.  For Darcy's sake.

Twist saunters up to me, watching me from under lidded eyes.  "Not all dogs are bad," she says.

"Yes, they are," I insist.  "But maybe some of them aren't as bad as others."

I look over at Jon as I say that.  Yeah.  Sometimes you can't tell who the good ones are until you need their help.  Twist knew she could trust Butch.  Darcy knows she can trust Jon.

Maybe I just need to listen to the women in my life more.

***

It was a few days later when I was with Darcy in the kitchen of our house, winding between her legs, hoping she could maybe spare a few scraps of whatever she was making. 
Or, maybe some tuna fish.

Love the tuna.

When I heard the sound of the car horn from the driveway, I knew who it was going to be.  Jon Tinker.  I sigh, knowing I'm about to lose Darcy's attention again.  Jon and I have come to an understanding, of sorts.  I still wish he wasn't around quite so often, but I'm learning to share Darcy with him.

Darcy goes out to meet him.  I sniff around on the floor hoping maybe a piece of turkey or cheese might have fallen somewhere, until I hear Darcy squeal.  Now what?  Running over to the front door, which she left open, I see Jon swinging Darcy around in the air, his hands holding her up by her waist.

“I have a surprise for you,” Jon says as he puts Darcy back down.  “How about we go back to the cabin this weekend to celebrate?”

“Celebrate?
" she asks him.  "Celebrate what?”

Oh, come on.  He just waltzes into her life and starts taking her away from me for days at a time?  This just isn't fair.

Darcy laughs, obviously happy. “That sounds amazing. When are we leaving?”

“Friday," Jon tells her.  "
I took the day off, we can leave in the morning and get a head start on the weekend.”

They come back inside the house, already making plans, and I know it's useless to argue.  When I catch Darcy's eye, I let out a little sneeze as I shake my head.  Darcy is in love with this man, and I'm just going to have to accept that.  I want her to be happy, after all.

If I have to share her with someone, I'm glad it's someone who loves her as much as Jon does.

—End—

You know how cats have nine lives?  No, really.  We do.  Well.  Most of us do.  Me, I only have eight lives.

My name is Smudge, and I'm a cat.  A black and white cat.  Or a white cat with black fur.  Maybe a black cat with white fur. I'm not really sure.  Anyway, that's where I come by the name Smudge.  My owner gave it to me.  I kind of like it.

I live i
n Misty Hollow, a small town with not-so-small problems.  You might say it's bigger than it seems.  I've got a good life here, for the most part, and I have everything a cat could want.  Except a full nine lives.  Wish I had that ninth one back.

This is the story of
how I lost it.

I
remember it was a gorgeous summer day.  One of those days in the middle of July that make a cat want to either curl up and take a nap, or go exploring.  Ordinarily, I would have gone with the nap. 

Today,
I chose to go exploring instead.  Biggest mistake of my life.

I hadn't lived in Misty Hollow for very
long at that point so there were lots of things left to explore.  My owner, Darcy Sweet, was working at the book store her Great Aunt Millie had used to own, so I had the whole day to myself.  I kind of wish that I had known Millie when she was alive.  Humans are humans, and some of them are better than others, but Millie is so much fun to talk to now that she's dead.  I just know she would have been a great friend when she was alive.  She haunts the book store now, a poltergeist making mischief to make the time pass, even though she could have moved on to the other side already.  We've talked about her reasons for sticking around.  I think the old lady is pretty smart, if you ask me.

We talk
about a lot of things, Millie and me.  But that's a story for another time.

Today, I wanted to explore the trees around the south side of town.  Misty Hollow is
a rural place.  Even though there are lots of people living here, there's also lots of nature.  Trees and bushes and other neat places for cats to check out.  The trees here, thick and shady, could almost be called a forest.  At least, I think they could.  I've never been in an actual forest.  Only in my dreams.

Trees have this
amazing smell to them.  They smell like freedom and wild things.  It makes me want to run around them, and jump, and climb this tree with my claws, and jump back down to the ground, and run some more.

Being a cat rules.

The problem was that I got totally twisted around out there.  Left was right and east was west—even though I'm not really sure which way is east and which is west anyway—until I lost all sense of where I had come from.  I could almost imagine I wasn't anywhere near civilization.  No town nearby, no traffic sounds, no people.  Just tall trees and wild things and me.  It was like I was a big cat on the prowl in the jungles of—

The
screech that came out of my mouth at that exact moment sounded less like a lion's roar and more like a cat being scared to death.  Which, basically, is what I was.

That?  No.  That's not where I lost my life.  That comes later.

A crow had fluttered up in my face, right in front of me, rummaging through the dead leaves and flapping his wings.  He was probably looking for worms or other insects to fill his big, fat belly.  I hate crows.  They're like rats with wings, or short ugly chickens, or…or…something else that's just as ugly that I can't think of right now.  Ugly rat chickens.  Yeah.  That's what they are.

This one cawed at me again and then flew off, into the higher branches up above until I lost sight of it. 
I stopped to get my breath and shake my head a few times.  Dumb crow broke my rhythm. 

That's when I heard the voices.

"I told you not to take it," a girl's voice said.  I jumped up in the air again, not screeching this time thank you very much.  My heart was racing, though, and I got to wondering if maybe I might get scared to death out here after all.

Nope.  That's not where I lost my one life either.

I could see two people through the trees.  Standing and talking.  The girl was young, with long blonde hair held back in a ponytail, wearing a long blue dress without sleeves.  There was a man with her, a little older than she was, I guessed, with hair buzzed closed to his scalp and eyes that were hidden behind dark sunglasses. 

The
guy gave me the creeps.

"I took it for us,"
he was saying to the girl.  "It's for our future."

"It doesn't belong to us," the girl insisted.  "You have to take it back."

I could see she had something shiny in her hand that sparkled in the sun.  A ring, by the look of it, with little stones set in place on a gold band.  I think people called those little stones diamonds.  I never understood why people have so much interest in stones.  They're just little pieces of rock.  I could find rocks anywhere.  Look, I'm stepping on some right now.

Those ones on the ring sure were
sparkly, though.

The guy and the girl were still arguing, and the girl tried her best to push the ring into the guy's hand.  He wouldn't take it.  "I stole it for us. 
That ring is worth a lot of money, and it's ours now."

Stole it?  I know enough about humans and how they think to know that stealing is wrong. 
Cats don't steal from each other.  We might take stuff from people's garbage, but that isn't stealing.  If people didn't want that stuff taken, they wouldn't throw it out.

My ears perk up. 
If these two stole a ring from somewhere in town, this could be even more interesting than running through the woods.  I watched them intently to see what they would do next.

The girl shifted her weight from one foot to another, looking nervous, but finally
she put the ring on her finger.  "Fine.  I'll keep it, but I don't like stealing, Pat.  If we're going to be together we need to show everyone we can make it on our own.  So.  Um.  When do you think we can sell it?"

"Tomorrow.
  My cousin lives over in Meadowood."  The guy, Pat, rubbed his hands together.  "He knows a guy runs a pawn shop.  We can get at least two hundred dollars for that.  Plenty for us to run away with.  Enough for a start, anyway."

The girl didn't look as certain.  "My mom's going to be really worried, Pat.  I don't know if I can do this."

Pat, reached out and pulled the girl closer.  "Ginny, we don't have to tell your parents anything.  With that ring we can start a new life far away from here.  I'm glad I stole it."

I waited, and listened, until the picture came clear in my head.  Pat here was trying to convince this girl to run away with him.  He needed money to make that happen, and he was going to sell this diamond ring to get that money.

Only the ring wasn't his.

Most cats I know would have turned and walked away at that point, or kept watching out of plain curiosity.  I'm just not most cats.  This guy had committed a crime against someone. 
That just didn't seem right to me.  Which meant I was going to have to do something about it.