Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Advice. Purrfect Passion. A Purrfect Gnomeful

“But, Tex!”

But Tex held up his hand in a silencing gesture. “No, this is not a joke, Dolores. Ted Trapper is a gnome thief. He stole my gnomes and he stole Kinnard Daym’s gnomes, too. No, I’m not trying to be funny, Dolores.”

“Tex, please,” said Ted piteously.

“What’s going on here?” asked Marcie, now also joining the piquant scene.

I could have told them that Ted was innocent, but no one was going to give me the time of day, or understand what I was saying. Only Gran could, or Marge or Odelia, and of those three there was no trace.

“Tex is calling the police!” Ted cried, bringing his hands to his head and helplessly pulling at his hair.

“Where did those gnomes come from?” asked Marcie, suddenly spotting the abundance of gnomes.

“Someone chucked them over the fence. Just now. I would have caught them but I got distracted by Tex.”

“Yes, Dolores, I know today is not April Fools.”

“You didn’t put those gnomes there?” asked Marcie, planting her hands on her hips and giving her husband a look that could kill—or at least maim.

“No! I’m telling you, someone threw them there.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. They were on the other side of the fence.”

Marcie now stalked over to where her husband was pointing and looked. “No one there,” she announced.

“Of course not! They ran away.”

“Mh,” said Marcie.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Mh,” Marcie repeated, looking highly skeptical.

“Gnomes, Dolores. Not hobbits, gnomes.”

In the meantime Marge had come walking out of the house, drawn by all the noise. “What’s going on?” she asked.

Happy that finally a sane person had entered the fray, I said, “Someone was chucking gnomes over the fence into the Trappers’ backyard, and now Tex thinks Ted is a thief and he’s calling the police.”

Marge stared from me to the gnomes and then to her husband. Taking decisive action, she simply grabbed her husband’s phone away and tapped Disconnect.

“Hey! “said Tex. “I think I was finally getting through to Dolores!”

“Ted didn’t steal those gnomes,” she said. “So stop making a fool of yourself, Tex.”

“Thank you, Marge!” said Ted, over the moon by this unexpected vote of confidence.

“How do you know Ted didn’t steal them?” asked Marcie with a frown.

“Because… I saw the thieves,” said Marge. “From… the kitchen window.”

Marcie directed a curious look in the direction of said kitchen windows, then to the fence. “Impossible,” she determined. “Unless you’re superwoman and you have X-ray vision.”

“Oh, all right. I happened to be hanging up my laundry just now, and I heard a strange noise so I glanced over and saw them at it. I should have said something, but I don’t like to stick my nose in other people’s business.”

“See!” said Ted triumphantly “What did I tell you?”

“So you saw them and you said nothing?” asked Marcie, still continuing suspicious.

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

“You saw the thieves and you didn’t tell me?” asked Tex, sounding disappointed. Whether he was disappointed because Ted wasn’t a thief, or because his wife hadn’t confided in him was hard to tell at this point.

“Look, you’re all wasting time,” said Marge, gesturing to the pile of gnomes. “You should be going after those thieves instead of standing around here arguing.”

“She’s right,” said Ted. And to show his neighbor that he wasn’t one for holding a grudge, he added, “Let’s go get them, Tex.”

And before our very eyes, the mild-mannered accountant jumped the fence!

Or at least he would have, if he was a lissome deer and not a pudgy accountant. As it was, he got stuck halfway and was dangling, the fence painfully poking his midsection.

“Marcie?” he said in a strangled voice. “Please help.”

Chapter 30

It was clear to me that things were hotting up in Hampton Cove. Odelia had given us an update on where she stood with the investigation, and there had been a couple of startling developments, one of which was Jacqueline Goossens coming forward and revealing that Dan had told her he was soon coming into the possession of an object that would blow Jack Warner and his Society out of the water once and for all.

It pretty much sealed the deal, as far as I was concerned: as everyone knows, collectors are often unhinged, and will go to any means to lay their sweaty little paws on the object that will complete their collection. And Dan was just such a collector when it came to all things Maria Power.

And then of course there was the mysterious affair of the gnome thieves, who’d almost been caught by Ted Trapper, if only the latter had been a little lighter on his feet, and a little slimmer around the tummy.

But the most important development, as far as I was concerned, was of course the arrival of our very own secret weapon in the form of Elsa.

So it was with a sense of breathless anticipation that I explained to Harriet and Brutus that a solution to the mouse problem might finally be at paw, and as we all gazed with awe at the tiny mouse, who’d hitherto belonged to Maria Power, I don’t think there had ever been, in the whole history of felinity, four cats filled with more abject admiration for a single mouse than we were right now.

“Do you want some more cheese?” asked Harriet with a reverence I’d never thought her capable.

“Are you quite comfortable on that cushion?” asked Brutus. “Do you want me to fluff it up for you?”

“No, I’m fine,” said Elsa, nibbling her piece of cheese daintily, while stretched out on my favorite pillow, which I’d gratefully offered her.

“Do you want to watch some television?” asked Dooley. “An episode of Tom and Jerry, maybe?” He turned to me, and explained, “Just to get her in the right frame of mind.”

I nodded seriously. “Good thinking, Dooley. Mindset is everything.”

“I’m fine, you guys,” said Elsa with a laugh. “Stop fussing.”

I’d more or less hoped that she would simply sweep into the place, talk to the mice like a Dutch uncle—or, as in this case, a murine aunt—and we could wrap the whole thing up before sunset. But Elsa was obviously one of those mice who liked to do things properly. With forethought and careful planning.

And she was right, of course. No general goes into battle without a good meal and a good night’s rest, and Elsa was no different.

“If you want I can give you a foot massage,” Harriet offered now.

“Or a back rub?” Brutus suggested.

“I’m fine!” Elsa said, and munched down the final remaining piece of cheese with visible relish. She wiped her mouth and looked around. “Nice place you got here. I really like what you’ve done with it.”

“Yeah, Odelia has great taste,” I said. “She’s the decorator in our family. Chase hasn’t really made his mark yet since he moved in.” Except for the gym equipment he’d lugged upstairs, of course, but that was more of an eyesore than an improvement, to be honest.

“So… do you have a strategy in mind?” asked Harriet.

“Nah, I think I’ll just wing it,” said Elsa, licking her paws.

“What do you want us to do?” asked Brutus. “Or do you prefer to go in alone?”

“Actually I do think I’ll go it alone. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Oh, no, by all means,” I said, happy that I wasn’t going to have to face that hostile pack of mice again.

“One very important thing, though,” said Elsa, stifling a yawn.

“Anything,” I said eagerly.

“I’m going to need your written authorization to deal with the matter of the mice.” When we merely stared at her, she added, more slowly, “Power of attorney? I am going in there as your official representative after all, so this needs to be official all the way.”