Molly Fitz: The Cat Caper (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 5)

“No more ledges for you,” he said with a laugh. “You hear me?”

I knew he was just joking, but still I couldn’t promise anything. If Octo-Cat needed me to walk a tightrope a hundred feet off the ground, I would jump at the chance to do it.

Anything to bring my number one guy home safe and sound…

Chapter Five

Nan was nowhere to be found when I returned home from Charles’s place. Her little red sports coupe was missing, too, which led me to assume she was out widening our search radius.

Now that the twilight hour had set in, the animals who normally scampered and flittered around my yard had all tucked in for the night. Some of the forest creatures were most definitely nocturnal, but I felt uneasy going into the dark woods without backup. Instead, as much as it pained me, I decided to head to bed early so that I could also wake up early to resume my search.

“Wherever you are,” I whispered, hoping somehow, some way Octo-Cat would hear or would at least know I was thinking of him, “I hope you’re okay.”

The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed at the first sign of dawn. The animals were up, and I needed to be as well. Nan’s little red sports coupe was back in front of the house, but she herself wasn’t up yet. She had, however, left a long and very detailed note for me on the kitchen counter:

My dearest dear,

I know you are eager to find our missing buddy, but make sure you grab a bite to eat first. Scones are in the ceramic container on the opposite side of the fridge. I also brought home some of those cold coffees that taste like chalk in case I’m not up early enough to make the brew.

As for the search, here are all the places I checked last night…

What followed was a lengthy list of almost every place in Glendale. No wonder Nan was still in bed. She must have been out all night. Yet still, she hadn’t managed to find “our missing buddy.” More and more it was looking like foul play had been involved, and that made finding him all the more urgent. I grabbed one of Nan’s scones and a chilled coffee shot from the fridge, planning to eat while I searched the woods.

Or rather interrogated the local woodland creatures.

The outside sun was bright and warm like a reassuring hug. Hopefully, the animals would be every bit as accommodating as the weather.

Then we might really get somewhere.

A little chickadee sat on the porch railing, tilting its head to the side as it studied me.

I stopped in my tracks and plastered on my best smile. “Hello, there,” I said around a very full mouth of scone.

The short, fat bird quickly became a tall, thin bird as it rose on its tiptoes and stretched its neck high in alarm. “It speaks!” he cried.

I nodded and swallowed down my food before speaking again. “My name’s Angie, and I was wondering if you could help me with—” My words fell away once the chickadee flapped its wings furiously and darted away without so much as a backward glance in my direction.

Well, then. It seemed clear I would need to find something a little less skittish than a bird. I already knew from my limited experience that almost everything seemed to set them off and send them flying away. Definitely not the most useful as far as witnesses went.

Leaving the porch behind, I made my way toward the edge of the forest that edged my property on three sides. Once there, I stood stock-still and listened to the morning chorus all around me. Much of it belonged to a cacophony of various birds singing in the trees, but I’d already decided that I’d only be questioning them as an absolute last resort.

A chittering sound came from above, and sure enough a hyper brown squirrel jumped from one branch to the next, singing a peppy little tune that seemed to be about all his favorite kinds of nuts.

“Oh, what a beautiful day for eating an acorn,” he belted out, then hummed a few beats before continuing his song. “Hey, it’s always a great day to enjoy a walnut!”

“Hey!” I called in his general direction. I didn’t know much about squirrels, but they definitely didn’t seem to be the shyest of creatures. Perhaps I could use that to my advantage now.

The squirrel immediately stopped singing, stopped moving, stopped everything as he took me in with his shiny, black eyes.

“I heard you like nuts,” I said, formulating my plan right there on the spot. “But do you like peanut butter?”

He sniffed the air with giant, exaggerated motions. It practically looked as if his nose could fly straight off his face. A second later, he zagged to the side and scampered down to the base of the tree. “Do-do-do you have peanut butter?”

“That depends.” I crossed my arms and appeared to look both bored and non-threatening.

Luckily, Mr. Squirrel wasn’t up on the latest human bribery techniques, because my hesitation to answer his question only made his eagerness grow. “You dooooo have peanut butter. Don’t you?” He closed about half the distance between us and sniffed at the air again.

“My name’s Angie. I live in that house back there,” I informed him, hooking a thumb over my shoulder in the general direction of the manor house.

The fuzzy rodent before me nodded vigorously. “I’m Maple. I live about three trees back and five to the right.” Now that part of the squirrel’s energy was being used to nod, its voice came out squeakier but also less hurried. Different. This was the point that I realized Maple was most likely actually a girl.

I didn’t know how to politely ask, so I just did my best to avoid any gendered language as our conversation proceeded. “I’m trying to find my friend,” I explained. “If you can help me with that, then there’s a whole jar of peanut butter in it for you.”

Maple’s eyes grew even wider as she scrambled straight up to me and put both of her furry little hands on the toe of my shoe. “Really? A whole jar?” she asked almost reverently, unwilling to take her eyes off me for even a second.

“Yup,” I confirmed with an earnest smile. “But I need help figuring out where my friend’s gone first.”

“Do you mean the other human? Or maybe the cat?” Maple reached one small hand up and scratched at her head. “I don’t think there’s anyone else in your drey is there?”

“The cat,” I said with a nod. “And how do you know so much about my… drey?” I stumbled over the unfamiliar word, assuming this must be what a squirrel called its family.

“I like to watch you sometimes from my tree,” Maple answered unabashedly. “Sometimes I even climb up onto the roof to get a closer look. You’re a funny trio, you three are.”

I couldn’t tell whether that was meant as an insult or some kind of strange compliment, so I just said, “Um, thank you?” It was a bit creepy that Maple had made a habit of peeping in on us, but I tried to let that go—especially if it led to information we could use to recover Octo-Cat.

“You are very welcome,” the squirrel said, sniffing at the air yet again. “Peanut butter?”

“First cat, then peanut butter,” I reminded her.

“Oh, I’m so hungry, just thinking about all that gooey, melty nut butter, but I promise I will try my very best to help!”

Clearly, it was going to be difficult to keep my new squirrel friend on task, so I’d need to be quick and to the point with my questions. First, I needed to give her a little background on the situation.

“Octo-Cat went missing yesterday during the late morning or very early afternoon,” I explained. “We’ve been looking everywhere but haven’t been able to find him. We’re wondering if maybe someone took him. Did you see anything unusual happening around here at that time?”