Molly Fitz: Raccoon Racketeer

Octo-Cat exploded upon hearing this claim. “I don’t believe this. Does he reall—”

As much as I hated to do it, I pushed my best feline friend through the pet door and then blocked it with my leg. “You’re in business?” I asked peaceably.

He nodded animatedly; his chest puffed with pride. “Yes, indeed. You’re looking at the proud owner and key talent behind Pringle Whisperer, P.I. I’ll have you know that it’s the very best investigation firm in the area.”

I pinched the skin on the inside of my wrist to stop myself from saying something snarky. I had no idea this masked thief stole ideas and business models in addition to papers and trinkets. I also hugely resented the implication that his P.I. outfit was superior to the one I ran with Octo-Cat. But, ugh, I still needed his help.

“Congratulations,” I managed, thinking it was a good thing I had pushed Octo-Cat in through the cat door, otherwise there would be a definite brawl right about now. “So can I hire you to help me out here?”

He smiled wide, revealing two rows of gleaming, pointed teeth. “Of course you can, princess. But it’ll come at a price.”

“You’re going to charge me?” I balked, remembering the stack of pretty green bills he planned to use for origami. He didn’t even know what cash was, let alone its value, considering he had a tendency to just take anything he wanted. “What do you even need money for?”

He rubbed his thumb and index finger together. “Not money. Favors.”

I took a moment to soak this in. When I’d promised Octo-Cat a favor in exchange for his cooperation, I’d ended up with the giant manor house that had once belonged to his late owner. I’d grown to love our new house, but it was still a steep price to pay for getting him to agree to wear a cheap pet harness one time.

“Well,” Pringle prompted me, reminding me that I still hadn’t responded to his heinous offer. “Are you in or out?”

Oh, I knew I would come to regret this, but I also knew I needed him and that the longer I went without untangling Nan’s secrets, the more desperate I would become.

“Fine.” I squatted down and offered him my index finger, which he promptly accepted and shook in agreement.

“Excellent. Then it seems we’ve got ourselves a deal,” Pringle said, steepling his fingers in true villain fashion.

Well, at least he was on my side this time. Um, right?

Chapter Twelve

My deal with the sometimes downright devilish raccoon made, I opened the front door wide and invited him to join us inside.

“I’ve never been so insulted in all my life,” Octo-Cat grumbled, apparently having overhead our entire conversation from the other side of the blocked pet door. “And don’t you know better than to make an open-ended bargain with a crook?”

Pringle bared his teeth. “You know, I used to like you,” he spat at the cat. “Idolize you, even. Pffft. Pathetic.”

“Oh, and now you don’t? I’m so hurt,” my cat snarked right back. These two were pretty well-matched when it came to conversational gymnastics. It was a shame the only thing they wanted to do was fight each other rather than work together.

I had to do something to get everyone back on track. Perhaps asking nicely would do the trick?

“Guys, that’s enough,” I said with a stern look. “Like it or not, we need to work together on this one. I need you to put your differences aside and recognize that we’re all on the same team here.”

“At least one of you has a bit of sense,” Pringle said, shooting a dirty look toward Octo-Cat. Sigh.

Much to my surprise and delight, the tabby stayed quiet. His wildly flicking tail belied his true feelings, though.

I offered him an appreciative smile before moving forward with the plan. “Let’s get started in the attic. Pringle, can you show me the hiding place you mentioned the other night? The one in the baseboards?”

He nodded and gave me the thumbs up sign. I swear he was becoming more human by the day. “Sure. I’ll meet you up there,” he said.

“Um, can’t we just go up together?” I stood and pointed toward the stairs. “I mean, it’s just up there.”

He raised both eyebrows and shot me a goofy grin. “We could, but I prefer to use my private entrance. Remember, I’m VIP, honey. Very Important Pringle.”

“Gag me on my own hairball,” Octo-Cat grumbled. I wouldn’t just owe Pringle after this. I was starting to think my cat would deserve a medal for his restraint in dealing with the obnoxious forest animal.

“Fine,” I said even though I was already beyond irritated. I opened the front door for the raccoon so that he could sashay his way outside, then grabbed a folding chair from the storage closet and marched upstairs to the guest room where I’d found Nan Marie Kondo-ing the other day.

“Let me help you,” I told the tabby in light of the nasty spill he’d taken last time we were up here.

“Don’t insult me.” He jumped onto the chair, wiggled his butt, and leaped through the hatch flawlessly.

I followed shortly after, also using the chair to help me gain an adequate amount of leverage before pulling myself up by my throbbing arms.

Once I was seated securely on the attic floor, I glanced around the space, surprised by the high ceilings—although I probably shouldn’t have been given the general grandeur of the estate. Even in the rarely visited space, the floors were made of elegant hardwood, and the walls had been decorated in a pretty green, textured wallpaper. One hexagonal window sat within the far wall, casting a steady beam of light into the space.

Pringle was already there waiting for us. “Took you long enough.”

“Show us the hiding place,” I commanded, no longer worried about being courteous with the sarcastic, self-important under-porch dweller. We just needed to get on with business.

He nodded and walked around the edge of the room before stopping in the corner farthest from the window. “Here,” he said, pointing.

I dropped to my knees and pulled at the edge of the wood trim, but it remained firmly wedged in place.

“It’s push, champ. Not pull,” Pringle explained, giving it a swift karate kick. Sure enough, the mahogany trim collapsed to reveal a dark hole.

I gulped down my nerves and reached my hand into the mysterious space.

Nothing.

“I already cleaned it out,” the raccoon revealed. “Nothing left. Not in there at least.”

“Then what are we even doing up here?” Octo-Cat demanded with a huff. It was only then I realized he was pacing the length of the room.

“Look.” Pringle pointed toward a stack of cardboard boxes nearby. “There are some new things here since I last searched.”

“Nan’s Marie Kondo-ing,” I whispered. “She wasn’t just throwing things out. She was hiding them here, too.”

Pringle rubbed his hands together in excitement. “Oooh, fun. Let’s go see what new secrets we can find.”

I opened each of the three boxes and set them side by side on the floor. Pringle immediately dove into the biggest one while I decided to start with the smallest.

“It’s times like this I think it might be nice to have fingers, even though they look so… yuck.” Octo-Cat shuddered at the thought, then stalked over to lie in the sunbeam coming from the window, leaving us to do all the snooping.

The first box I tried held a delicate collection of Christmas ornaments, all lovingly kept. Not one thing even remotely suspicious.

I moved to the next box and found Nan’s favorite summer looks tucked away for safe keeping now that it was getting cold. Also nothing that helped with our search into the hidden past.

“What have you found?” I asked Pringle when I realized he still hadn’t emerged from the giant box.