Mr. and Mrs. Bunny—Detectives Extraordinaire! (11 page)

“Look at that hole he lives in,” said Mrs. Bunny scathingly.

“Shhh,” said Madeline. “That's not nice.”

“Not
nice
?” said Mr. Bunny. “It's just
accurate
. Marmots live in holes.”

“Mr. Bunny,” Madeline began. They were there begging favors. He needed to be tactful.

“Yes? For so I am called,” said Mr. Bunny.

“But there are holes and
holes
,” interrupted Mrs. Bunny, sniffing.

“They don't even plaster. They don't put floors down. They don't paint. Dirt floors, dirt walls, that's good enough for them,” said Mr. Bunny.

They got out, getting rather muddy in the process, for it had started to rain and marmots also don't keep proper lawns
or gardens, drives or walkways, so the Bunnys were up to their furry knees in mud.

“There's not even any place to knock,” said Mrs. Bunny.

“If it were me, I'd install a nice ground-level doorbell,” said Mr. Bunny speculatively.

“Hello, Mr. Marmot!” Madeline called down the hole.

“
Mr
. indeed,” said Mr. Bunny. “Hey, you big marmot head, answer your door, why don't you!”

“Be nice,” said Madeline. “Or he won't want to come out.”

Just then a furry face with teeth that protruded a bit too much to be attractive poked out.

“Well? What do
you
want?” asked The Marmot. “It's not often we get bunnies in these parts. Not visiting
us
. Not often. And humans? Humans who speak Marmot? Never.”

“You see,” whispered Mrs. Bunny to Madeline. “Can't even make intelligent conversation.”

“Mr. Marmot, I'm pleased to meet you,” said Madeline. Then she stopped. “Are we speaking Marmot or Bunny now?”

“A little bit of each, dear,” said Mrs. Bunny.

“I understand
both
?” said Madeline. An exciting thought was occurring to her. Was she one of the people scientists were
looking for who could speak all animal languages? She knew she was smart. She had, after all, read
Pride and Prejudice
. Twice.

But she didn't know she was
that
smart. No, smart wasn't really the word for it. It was a gift. Was she so gifted?

“She doesn't even know what languages she is speaking? What a dummy,” said The Marmot.

“Shut up,” said Mr. Bunny.

“This is Madeline,” interjected Mrs. Bunny hastily. “And she is certainly no dummy. You remember me and Mr. Bunny. We've come on an errand of grave importance.”

“You need help digging a grave, is that it?” asked The Marmot. “Someone told you marmots were good diggers, did they? Well, we are, we are, we are. Look at this lovely hole I've dug. Come to the right place, you have. Cost you a million dollars, but I'll take the job!”

“A million dollars! You idiot marmot!” roared Mr. Bunny, but Madeline put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“No, it's your superior intelligence we're after,” she said soothingly.

“Oh, that, oh, that, oh, that,” said The Marmot. He closed his eyes a minute to let the meaning of this come to him. Then
he said, “Okay, I don't know what you mean. Better come in and explain. Talk slowly and repeat things several times.”

The Marmot turned and went back into the hole. Mr. and Mrs. Bunny looked at Madeline and rolled their eyes.

“Mrs. Bunny and I can come in,” called Mr. Bunny down The Marmot's long echoey hole.

Come in come in come in echoed back.

“He must have a very long hallway leading down to his living room,” said Mrs. Bunny.

“But Madeline can't!” shouted Mr. Bunny. CAN'T CAN'T CAN'T echoed back up the hole. “Because she's got such a gigantic bottom!” GIGANTIC BOTTOM, GIGANTIC BOTTOM, GIGANTIC BOTTOM.

“Please don't,” whispered Madeline. It was one thing to have this said about you and another to have it echoing back from the earth like a fundamental truth.

“Yes, that's enough of that,” said Mrs. Bunny, pushing Mr. Bunny back from the hole's edge. “You're going to traumatize her. Now listen, Marmot, get back up here. We can't stand in the rain and we can't come down the hole, so we're going to have to find a tea shoppe or someplace Madeline can fit into to
have our chat. We don't want to go to a human one, though. We'd end up being on the menu.”

“Even if you weren't,” said Madeline, “I can't bring two rabbits and a marmot into a tea shoppe.”

“Well, then we'll have to go to Rabbitville and find a restaurant large enough to accommodate you,” said Mrs. Bunny.

“The Olde Spaghetti Factory!” said Mr. Bunny.

“Oh, Mr. Bunny, you are a smart rabbit!” said Mrs. Bunny.

“Oh, I love The Olde Spaghetti Factory,” said Madeline.

Once, on a mad gay vacation, her parents had taken her to a real motel and The Olde Spaghetti Factory. Everyone was having a marvelous time until Flo found out that the restaurant was using nonunion lettuce. They had to leave in the middle of their meal, but Madeline had never forgotten it. It was the only vacation they had ever been able to afford and it had been just wonderful until the salad course. “I didn't know that rabbits had one.”

“Rabbits have everything,” said Mr. Bunny.

“And everyone has The Olde Spaghetti Factory,” said Mrs. Bunny.

The Marmot poked his head out of the hole. “Did I hear someone say The Olde Spaghetti Factory?”

So Mr. Bunny hopped back into the driver's seat, Madeline put both The Marmot and Mrs. Bunny on her lap and they rode into town with Mrs. Bunny holding her nose the whole way.

“Why, your Olde Spaghetti Factory is exactly the same size as our human one!” said Madeline in surprise when they pulled into the parking lot.

“They're exactly the same all over the world. It is part of their charm,” said Mr. Bunny. “Now listen, Marmot, we're going to have to disguise you. We can't, obviously, bring a marmot in here. They might possibly tolerate a human, but no one is going to let in a marmot.”

“Meatballs, cannelloni, garlic bread,” said The Marmot, drooling and licking his lips.

“Right,” said Mr. Bunny, clamping his fedora on The Marmot's head. Mrs. Bunny found a spare pair of sunglasses in her purse, and Madeline took off the scarf she had around her neck. It was too big, of course, but they wound it six or seven times around The Marmot's neck until even his own mother wouldn't have known him.

“Mr. Bunny, you are a master of disguise,” said Mrs. Bunny admiringly.

“Yes, it is one of my many talents,” said Mr. Bunny with satisfaction. “Come!” And he led the way into The Olde Spaghetti Factory.

The Marmot tripped six or seven times due to his dark glasses and the restaurant's dim lighting.

“Stop calling attention to yourself,” said Mr. Bunny.

“I can't help it,” said The Marmot. “Get a booth. Oh! And get some crayons and menus to color with.”

“Can I have a children's menu and some crayons?” said Madeline when the waiter came. Madeline took up four chairs, but Mr. Bunny, with great self-restraint, didn't mention it.

The waiter placed a child's menu and crayons in front of Madeline. The Marmot nudged Mr. Bunny in the ribs.

“And another set for my marmot,” said Mr. Bunny, almost giving away the show.

But Madeline and Mrs. Bunny agreed that this remark had gone right over the waiter's head. After the waiter brought the crayons, The Marmot began scribbling away for all he was worth.

“Look, I can stay in the lines!” he said to the waiter.

“Shut up,” whispered Mr. Bunny.

Then The Marmot ordered the most expensive thing on the menu.

“What did I tell you?” said Mrs. Bunny to Madeline, raising her eyebrows.

“Let's get down to business,” said Madeline, clearing her throat.

She handed The Marmot the coded file card. At first, he put it on the table and picked up a crayon. He was about to use it when Mr. and Mrs. Bunny and Madeline all shouted “NO!”

“Just decode it, please,” said Mr. Bunny when they had all calmed down.

“Hmmmm,” said The Marmot, looking at the file card. “Very interesting. Very interesting indeed. I wonder what rabbit by-products are.” He looked pensive.

“Would you just decode, please?” said Mr. Bunny through clenched teeth.

The marmot sat and studied the code as they made their way through gigantic plates of pasta. The Marmot ate all the garlic bread in the basket and called for three refills.

“We're going to have to pay for that, you know,” said Mr. Bunny to Mrs. Bunny.

“It's for a good cause, dear,” said Mrs. Bunny.

“It doesn't even occur to him that
others
might like a little garlic bread,” said Mr. Bunny, sniffing.

“Well?” asked Madeline as the waiter took the plates away and brought them dessert menus.

The Marmot ordered the most expensive dessert, which was baked Alaska, and then he ordered Irish coffee too.

“You know Irish coffee
is
a dessert,” said Mr. Bunny. “So you've just ordered
two
desserts. And did you know there is whiskey in Irish coffee? And this is lunchtime. I'm just saying.”

“It helps me think,” said The Marmot, going back to studying the coded card, and no one said anything after that.

The Marmot grabbed all four after dinner mints that the waiter brought, and still no one said anything.

“WELL?” said Mr. Bunny finally, when he was paying the bill and The Marmot was loading his pockets with free toothpicks from the container by the cash register.

“I'll tell you what I think,” said The Marmot.

“YES?” they all cried.

“I think that this card is in
code
,” said The Marmot. “And … by the way, where's the restroom?”

Mrs. Bunny pointed down the hall to the doors with
restroom signs. One showed a bunny in trousers and the other showed a bunny in a skirt.

“Which one do I use?” asked The Marmot.

“
This
is who we have decoding for us?” said Mr. Bunny.

Mrs. Bunny pointed to the sign with the bunny in trousers and The Marmot scurried in.

The Bunnys and Madeline sat on a bench by the restaurant door and waited for The Marmot to return. They waited and waited. Finally Mr. Bunny hopped down the hall to the restroom to see what was keeping him. When Mr. Bunny returned he looked flummoxed.

“Well? Has he fallen into the toilet? This sometimes happens with marmots,” Mrs. Bunny said, turning to Madeline.

“No,” said Mr. Bunny. “Worse.”

 MADELINE HYPNOTIZES A MARMOT 

M
adeline and Mrs. Bunny stared at Mr. Bunny blankly. What could be worse than falling into a toilet? Madeline thought it would certainly be the low point of
her
day.

“He's disappeared,” Mr. Bunny said.

“Impossible,” said Madeline. “How could he? There's no back way out. You can see where the hallway ends.”