Misty Hollow Cat Detective (Darcy Sweet Mystery) (A Smudge the Cat Mystery Book 1) (6 page)

I walked with her for a little bit, rubbing up against her legs as I did.  I had to go, but I needed to let her know I was there for her.  I gave her what encouragement I could.  I understood what she was doing.  Sticking up for your friends means doing everything you can, even if you have to break into a police station to do it.

"That's easy for you to say," she told me, as if she had read my mind.

When I knew she'd be okay I turned off in the direction of Rolo's neighborhood.  I had my own friend to help out. 

This needed to end. 
Tonight.

***

I didn't go to
Rolo's house.  I needed to see someone else.  Someone who lived across the street.

It was still deep in the night, which for Misty Hollow meant most people were home asleep in their beds.  It was one of the great things about a small town like ours.

At the house across the street from Rolo's there was a little fenced in yard that was full of brown grass.  A sign that read "Beware of the Dog" hung from one nail on the gate.

Ordinarily I don't voluntarily walk into yards where dogs live.  They're territorial animals, and they like to bite you first and ask questions later.  This time, I didn't have a lot of choice. 

Boster had given me the name of who hired him to scare off Rolo.  It was the Rottweiler I had seen earlier at this very house, watching me at Rolo's window.  Ranger was his name, according to his hired rat.  It was the tough kind of name people liked to give their dogs, but it was better than finding out his name was Killer or Brutus.

What the little rat didn't tell me before Darcy had interrupted us was why Ranger wanted
Rolo gone.

Jumping up over the fence easily, I landed on the other side in the yard, and waited.  I didn't have to wait long.

"Most cats would be dead, sitting where you're sitting," a sharp and gravelly voice said to me.  "But then, you aren't most cats, are you Smudge?"

"So you know who I am?"  That's not surprising.  Most of the civilized animals in town know me, either personally or by reputation.  That's what happens when you stick your nose into things whether you're asked to or not.  "Good. Then you know I'm not here for a social call."

Ranger snorted as he stepped out into the gray circle of the porch light.  "I don't socialize with cats."  He was even bigger now that I was up close to him, all dark brown and black, his pointed ears held stiffly forward as his eyes bored into me. 

"You socialize with rats, though, don't you?"  I kept my tail from flicking, even though I was ready to jump at any second if Ranger tried anything.  "I spoke to the rat you hired to make
Rolo leave.  That wasn't very nice of you."

Ranger stood very still for several seconds.  Then he smiled in a way that managed to bare all of his teeth.  "I could have just killed him, you know. 
Rolo's not much of a fighter."

I shook my head.  "You weren't going to risk that.  If you killed him, that would have brought a lot of attention on you. 
You, or whatever dog on this street did the murder for you."

Ranger chuffed, a short little laugh.  "Murder is for people, Smudge.  Dogs don’t commit murder.  We just kill."  Saliva dripped off his muzzle, and I watched it go plop, plop to the ground.  "Dogs don't get arrested, and we don’t go to jail.  Maybe you should have let
Boster scare him off.  Killing poor Rolo is sounding better and better to me."

He snapped his jaws shut for emphasis.

"Well, you're partly right."  I waited a moment for my heart beat to calm down before I said anything else.  No wonder Ranger was the lead dog around here.  I doubted any other dog would dare go against him.  "Murder might be a human concept, but killing is killing, and they do arrest killer dogs.  The animal control officer puts them away.  And then puts them down."

I put as much emphasis into that last part as I could.  Then I waited for my point to sink home.

For the most part, cats go unnoticed by animal control.  We keep to ourselves, keep out of people's sight, and when we get hungry we kill mice.  Dogs, on the other hand, are their own worst enemy.  They get into garbage, dig up people's lawns, and when they go bad, people get hurt.  Cats aren't afraid of animal control officers.

Dogs are.

Ranger, to his credit, was smart enough to know that.  Even though his expression never changed, he took a single step backward from me.  "Now, Smudge, there's no reason to get the authorities involved in this."

"I think there is."  I pressed my advantage while I had it.  "I'm looking out for my friend.  If you don't stay away from him, then I'll make sure the animal control officer takes a ride out this way.  When he does, I'll also be sure it's on a day when you and your friends are running around out on th
e street.  I don't see a collar around your neck, Ranger.  When was the last time your owner registered you or got your rabies shots?"

Now Ranger looked down right nervous.  His one front paw kept lifting and setting back down like he didn't know whether to walk away or charge at me or dig his own grave.

"Have you ever had your rabies shots?" I asked.

He didn't say anything, but his smile faded away completely.  It was enough of an answer for me.

I think I'd made my point.  Just in case Ranger missed it, though, I decided to spell it out for him.  In small words.  The kind a dog can understand.

"Here's the deal.  You and your friends are going to leave
Rolo alone from now on.  I don't know why you wanted him gone so bad and I really don't care.  If anyone hurts him, or tries to scare him away again, they'll answer to me.  You know what that answer will be, Ranger?"

He nodded his head. 
"The animal control officer."

"Good boy."

He curled his lips angrily.  I held his gaze for a moment longer before turning away, letting my tongue loll out between my teeth when I did.  That had been a big gamble just now.  If Ranger had decided to take the hard line and use me for a chew toy…

"Smudge?" he called to me as I was about to jump the fence out of his yard.

I didn't turn around, but I couldn't keep my ear from twitching, or my heart from pounding.  "Yes?"

"Don't ever come into my yard again.  If you do, I'll kill you and bury your body where no animal control officer will ever find it."

I heard his steps going back up onto the porch, into the shadows, away from the light.  I jumped the fence then and walked away.  There wasn't anything left to be said.

I'd drawn a line in the sandbox today.  Ranger and I were now enemies.  I didn't know how that would play out, but I wouldn't have done anything different.  No matter what might happen later on.

Like I said, I was doing this for a friend.  I'll risk anything for a friend.

***

"So it's over?"
Rolo asked me.

It was the next day.  I'd caught an hour or two of sleep out in the park in the center of town, and now I was back here.  Ranger had been watching me as I came down the street.  True to his word, he left me alone.  He didn't even give
Rolo a passing glance.

"It's over for now," I assured
Rolo.  "No one's going to be bothering you.  If they do, you tell me right away."

"But what do these dogs want?" 
Rolo was as nervous as ever, licking the puffy white fur around his shoulders over and over even though he'd already worked all the knots out already.

"I honestly don't know what they wanted," I had to admit.  "Just don't worry about it, okay?  I'll keep investigating.  If I find something out I'll let you know first."

Rolo seemed to relax at last.  "Thanks Smudge.  That makes me feel a lot better.  I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You won't ever have to find out," I tell him.  "Maybe I'll see you in town later?"

He looked around the living room with its ugly carpet and its old and worn furniture, and a smile wiggled his whiskers.  "I don't think so.  I like it here."

I had to smile with him. 
Rolo would always be Rolo.  Nothing would ever change that.

Out the window I went again, leaping down to the yard and heading up the sidewalk without minding the dogs staring at me from up and down the street.  As long as they stayed on their side of the fence, so to speak, I could
n’t care less if they stare at me.

I was heading back to check on Darcy when a familiar shape jumped out from behind a bush to walk with me.

"Pretty proud of yourself, aren't you?" Twistypaws said.  "The way you helped Rolo out and all?"

"Actually, yes I am," I answered honestly.  Hey, I'm as modest as the next cat, but when I've done something right I don't mind preening over it.  "There is one thing I'm not proud of, though."

"Oh?" she asked.  "What's that?"

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and she stopped with me.  It was a bright, sunny morning, and her gray fur practically sparkled.  "What I regret," I said, "is that I had to break a date with you to help him."

"Is that so?"

Her eyes smiled at me.  A little ripple went through her fur.  Tentatively I reached out with the tip of my nose and touched hers.

Electric.

Twist leaned forward to whisper to me.  "I'll let you make it up to me. 
Tonight.  If you can fit me into your schedule."

I wasn't about to pass that chance up.  "Just you and me," I told her.  "My friends can fend for themselves for one night."

As Twist rubbed her face against mine, I really, really hoped I was right about that.

Even a cat needs a night off.

—End—

I love Sunday mornings.

Darcy Sweet, the human that I live with, usually sleeps in way past when the sun comes up.  So of course I sleep too, curled up on the bedspread at her feet. 

Hey, a cat's life is rough.

Don't believe me?  Walk a mile in my paws sometime.  The life of a good looking black and white tomcat isn't all squeaky toys and naptime.

It used to be a lot more comfortable to sleep on the bed with Darcy before she brought this other guy into our house.  Jon Tinker.  Her boyfriend or something like that.  He's here with us now, and I have to keep moving as he spreads out on his side of the bed then turns over then tosses again.  I mean, seriously.  I could teach this guy a few things about the proper way to sleep.  Curl up, tuck your face into your paws, relax.  Nobody should put as much effort into sleeping as this guy does.

Here he goes again, sweeping his leg across the mattress and pushing me to the edge. 
Terrific.

With a little mewling growl to let them know what I think of the current sleeping arrangements, I jump down to the carpeted floor and stalk out of the room.  I shouldn't have bothered.  Neither of them heard me.

So much for sleeping in on a quiet Sunday morning.  Might as well go see what the day will bring.  Maybe some tuna.  I like tuna.

But I mean, seriously, who doesn't like tuna?

The dry food in my dish isn't tuna, but Darcy makes sure to give me the kind I like.  It's just one of the ways she lets me know she loves me.  I always have food in my dish and a place to lay my paws in between my busy schedule.

Darcy and I
go back a long way.  Cats don't exactly keep track of time, not like humans do, but she and I have been together for years.  That's like, half of my lifetime.  I think.  There's this thing about one cat year equaling four years of a person's life, but I've never understood that.  Maybe it has something to do with how lights that burn brighter burn twice as fast.

Maybe I'll figure it out someday.

Okay.  I'm full, I'm rested—sort of—and I'm ready.  Watch out world, here I come.

I always have a way in and out of the house.  Sometimes an open window, but usually it's my secret entrance at the back.  A gap made by a loose board in the cellar wall where it meets the support beams.  I wish Darcy would install a cat door, but I don't really need one.

It's a beautiful day outside.  I take a few moments to sit on the grass and blink at the bright sunlight.  Nice.  Since it's springtime, the world is becoming green and full of the smells that cats love.  Warm dirt.  Insects.  Birds.

I love birds.  They're so much fun to chase.  No, I've never eaten one.  Not that I wouldn't if I had to.  I just prefer the taste of fish.  And dry cat food.  And milk. 
And catnip.

Love the catnip.

My day is interrupted pretty rudely at that point by Corvin the crow, cawing loud enough to wake the dead.  Loud enough to make me jump a foot in the air, anyway.  He lands next to where I had been sitting, all fidgeting feathers and bobbing head.  His black feathers shimmer in the sun creating false highlights of blue and violet.  He caws again, loudly, his wings fluttering and jittery.

"
Corvin!" I yell at him, annoyed and trying to hide how my heart is thudding a mile a minute in my chest.  "What are you doing?!  Where did you come from?"