by Molly Fitz
Pringle shook his head and eyed me warily. “Not quite.”
I waited, refusing to add fuel to his flaming theatrics. I got enough of this from Octo-Cat, and frankly I liked him far more than this nuisance raccoon who’d become a frenemy at best.
Pringle sighed. “I’m keeping the pretty papers.”
“Why do you even need them?” I asked with a groan.
“I’m taking up origami, and these will do very nicely.” Pringle turned his nose up so high I could only see chin, then he marched straight back to his under-porch apartment.
How did he even know origami was a thing?
And how did he know enough to want to attempt it himself?
What an odd animal.
“See, Mommy! I scared him away!” Paisley sat proudly on the edge of the porch, shaking so hard with excitement that I hadn’t the heart to tell her that Pringle had played us rather than other way around.
“That guy…” Octo-Cat plopped himself down beside the Chihuahua. “He’s getting way too big for his britches.”
I couldn’t agree more, but for the moment I was done discussing the masked menace. We had too much else we could be doing with our day.
“C’mon, you two,” I said with a sigh. “It looks like we need to come up with a new advertising plan.”
As the three of us filed back indoors, a new determination overtook me. My P.I. business would succeed or fail based on its own merits. I would not let an egotistical raccoon with delusions of grandeur stand between me and the role I just knew I was meant to play in this world—or at least in my small corner of it.
“I know that look,” Octo-Cat said with an open-mouthed smile that showed off his pointy teeth. “Nobody puts Angie in a corner.”
I snorted at that one, picturing myself in the classic 80s romance opposite Patrick Swayze. Even though he used to watch only Law & Order, he’d greatly expanded his viewing habits in recent months. Largely, thanks to my nan.
And while I appreciated my cat’s support, I definitely needed to start limiting his television time.
Chapter Three
As it turned out, my cat wasn’t the only one watching too much television these days. Normally, Nan would spend most of her mornings in the kitchen as she did the food prep for the day and whipped up treat after delectable treat for us to enjoy with our daily tea. Today, however, the kitchen sat empty, pristinely clean, and completely abandoned.
“Nan?” My voice felt disturbingly loud as it echoed through the empty manor.
When no response came, I raced to the garage to check if her little red sports car was still parked snugly inside. She often left after lunchtime to volunteer or take a community class, but she generally informed me before heading off. Besides, if she’d left the house early today, I should have seen her from my place on the front porch.
Well, her car sat waiting in the garage, right where it belonged.
So then where was my nan?
Paisley stood on her hindlegs and padded my leg with her tiny clawed feet. “I can still smell her close by. Want me to show you where she is?”
As soon as I nodded, the little dog bolted up the stairs and began scratching at the door to one of the bedrooms we didn’t use.
“Nan?” I called cautiously before pushing it wide open.
Paisley raced in before me, and Octo-Cat slinked in after.
Nan, however, was still nowhere to be seen.
“Paisley, are you sure she’s here?” I asked, seriously beginning to worry now.
“Oh, yes! Up there!” She ran over to the closet and began to jump and do clumsy side flips, not stopping until I looked up and noticed the open attic hatch.
I craned my neck to try to see inside. “Nan?”
She appeared in a cloud of dust. The bright silk scarf on her head featured an emoji print, and she wore cat-eye sunglasses, presumably to protect her eyes from all the floating dust motes. “Oh, hello, dear.”
“What are you doing up there?” I demanded, not any less worried now that I’d found her in a potentially dangerous situation. “How did you even get up there?”
“Just sorting through some things. I started with my bedroom but wasn’t quite ready to call the whole thing quits for the day just yet.” She turned away and crawled out of view.
“Call what quits?” I shouted after her.
“I didn’t know we had a higher place,” Octo-Cat remarked, then dropped low and wiggled his butt, making an impressive leap toward the hatch.
His front paws grazed the entrance but couldn’t get a grip.
“Ouch,” he moaned after he fell clumsily back to the ground.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, attempting to stroke and soothe him.
He flinched and slinked away from my hand. “My poor pride,” he whined. “What kind of a cat can’t stick the landing? Ouch.”
“Oh, Octo-friend. Can I kiss your ouchies?” the dog offered, licking her lips in anticipation.
“Insult to injury,” my cat muttered.
Both animals ran out of the room, leaving me on the ground and Nan somewhere above.
“Nan?” I called again. “What are you doing up there?”
She popped into view again, laughed, and shook her head as if this should have all been obvious. “Why, Mission Marie Kondo, of course!”
“Marie Kon—Wait… Is this from that book everyone’s talking about?” If memory served, there were also memes aplenty.
Nan scrunched her face up. “A book? Hmm, well, I don’t know about that. It’s a show on Netflix. I binged the full first season the other day. I do hope there will be a new season soon.”
I knew for a fact it had been a book first but kept mum.
Her eyes lit up as she explained, “It’s the new Feng Shui. Everyone’s doing it. If something doesn’t spark joy, then it doesn’t belong in your home. Fun, right?”
“Yeah… Fun,” I muttered. Already we had far more house than possessions to put in it. Sometimes I felt like we lived in a museum with all the antiques we’d inherited as part of the estate. We could do with more personal items to fill it out, not fewer.
“Well, are you coming up or am I coming down?” My grandmother tilted her head to the side in a gesture that reminded me very much of her Chihuahua sidekick. “You know what? I’ll come down.”
A moment later she’d scurried out of the crawl space and dropped the rest of the distance to the carpeted floor below. Her knees bent a little on impact, and I worried she’d broken something.
Racing to her side, I gently pulled her back into a standing position. “Oh my gosh! Nan! Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay. What do you take me for? Some kind of invalid?” Both her knees and her voice shook, but shockingly she wasn’t any worse for the wear. Not like Octo-Cat and his poor, damaged pride.
What do I take you for? A seventy-something woman, that’s what! But I didn’t push it since she appeared to be perfectly okay. Maybe one day I’d be in as good of shape as my grandmother, but somehow I doubted it—not when she was part Betty Crocker, part ninja.
“Do me a favor, because you know I worry,” I begged. “Next time you want to go in the attic, grab me first—or at least grab a chair.”
She waved my concerns away. “No need to worry. I’m done for now.”
“Did you get rid of lots of stuff?” I asked, only now noticing the two large trash bags that sat to the side of the closet.
“A good chunk of it. What have you been up to this morning?”
I filled her in on the reappearing flyers and the confrontation with Pringle, ending with the most unbelievable part. “And get this? He says he needs them so he can do origami!” I exploded.
“Oh, good,” Nan said with a pert nod. “I was worried he wouldn’t be able to find any craft supplies.”
“Wait. Are you the one who turned him on to the Japanese art of paper-folding?” Why was I even surprised?
She shrugged. “I had an old book. It wasn’t sparking j
oy for me, but it seemed to spark joy for our raccoon friend, so I handed it right over.”
“But a book? Does he know how to read?” How could he read if Octo-Cat, who’d lived much more closely with humans, couldn’t?
Nan chuckled. “Well, that’s a question for him, dear. Not me.”
I rolled my eyes hard and let out a long, extra breathy sigh.
“No need to get snippy now,” Nan scolded as she charged toward the door.
I followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. It’s just I’m trying so hard to find clients for Octo-Cat’s and my business, but nothing seems to be working.”
“Oh, you need clients?” Nan raised an eyebrow my way while filling our tea kettle at the sink.
“Of course we do. It’s been two months, and still we have zero clientele to show for our efforts.” Talk about depressing.
My grandmother set the kettle on the stovetop and turned back to me with a giant grin. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I happen to know someone who is in desperate need of your services.”
“What?” I gasped. “And you didn’t tell me?”
Nan hit me gently with a hand towel. “Calm down, you. I just found out yesterday, and I was quite busy at the time.”
With her Marie Kondo-ing, right. I rearranged my features into a placating smile. Even though I loved my nan more than anyone else in this entire world, sometimes her roundabout methods could be a bit infuriating.
“Well,” I said when she still hadn’t said anything after a full minute. “Who is it?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her face away. “Apologize first. That’s twice you’ve snapped at me in the space of five minutes.”
“I’m sorry.” And I was. I loved Nan’s quirkiness and wouldn’t change her for the world. For all her faults, my grandmother was still my best friend and my idol.
As soon as that final syllable left my mouth, she whipped back toward me to make her big reveal. “I prefer to let you be surprised, but I’ll ask your new client over for dinner tonight so she can give you all the details. I feel quite sure she’ll hire you on to help her out.”
“Thank you, Nan!” I sang, wrapping her in a solid hug. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter that she was playing coy with the details. Nan had found a client, a real, honest-to-goodness client!
Finally, things were looking up for Octo-Cat’s and my P.I. business.
Chapter Four
When the doorbell chimed a spirited rendition of the Village People’s YMCA, I knew two things. My first client was on the other side of that door, and Nan had obviously been having some fun at my expense.
Nan, of course, had refused to divulge any details pertaining to the case or the client, preferring not to shade my judgment, or so she said. I personally believe she just thought it was more fun that way—well, at least for her.
So when I pulled open the door to reveal our mail lady Julie, I was completely taken by surprise. “Julie, hello! How are you today?” I asked cautiously, not quite sure whether she was the client or simply here on urgent US Postal Service business.
“I’ve been better, that’s for sure.” The normally smiling woman stood uncertainly on the porch, a giant frown marring her cherubic features. She wrung her hands and let out an enormous sigh.
“Well, invite our guest in already!” Nan called from the bottom of the staircase. I hadn’t even heard her approach. I’m telling you, she’s part ninja.
“Thank you, Dorothy.” Julie nodded and moved to stand awkwardly in our foyer. She was one of the few people around town who knew and used Nan’s God-given name rather than her preferred nickname.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to discuss business in private.” Nan swept away, hips swinging as she made her way toward the kitchen.
“Oh!” she cried as she twisted back to face us from across the room. “Be a dear and take the cat with you. He has a horrible habit of getting in my way lately.” She paused, opened her mouth, and then shot me a giant, exaggerated wink that Julie surely couldn’t have missed.
Octo-Cat growled as he hopped onto the lowest step. “Just because she can’t understand me doesn’t mean I don’t understand her, and that was hurtful.”
I wanted to comfort him but simply couldn’t with Julie watching us both so closely. “Let’s head up to my office,” I said instead.
What had been a mere guest room when we’d moved in was now my favorite room in the entire manor. Brock Calhoun—who now went by Cal for short—had done a fantastic job converting the space into a luxury library and office, but the crowning feature was the six-foot-long window seat that overlooked the estate’s back gardens. The huge vaulted ceilings and antique crystal chandelier weren’t so bad either, nor were the built-in bookshelves that took up two entire walls from floor to ceiling.
“Wow,” Julie whispered in reverence as she took it all in. “I bet you hardly ever leave this room.”
“Not if I can help it,” I said amicably, even though that wasn’t entirely true. While I definitely spent a few hours reading in my library each week, the fact I hadn’t managed to book any clients to fulfill the office function of the space depressed me. Most days I found it easier to read in my bedroom rather than face my own inadequacy as a private investigator.
Well, that all changed right here, right now, and all thanks to the blessed woman before me.
“Nan says you have a case,” I started once Julie had settled onto the leather fainting couch opposite my large walnut desk and swivel chair. “Catch me up.”
Octo-Cat paced the perimeter of the room, trying—and failing—to act naturally. We’d have to talk about that later.
“I do.” Julie glanced toward the tabby, then turned back to me and cleared her throat. “For the past couple of weeks, mailboxes on my route have been getting vandalized. And mail I know I delivered is also getting reported as never having reached its destination. I know I’m not making any mistakes, but I’m on thin ice at work. The office is blaming me and threatening to put me on administrative leave or even dock my pay to cover the cost of replacing the mailboxes.”
I reached forward and touched her knee sympathetically. “That’s horrible.”
If I wanted to be a good investigator, I needed a good rapport with my clients just as much as I needed my sleuthing skills. Luckily, I’d always adored Julie and considered her—if not quite a friend—a well-liked acquaintance.
Even Octo-Cat appeared moved by her story. He stopped patrolling and jumped up beside her on the couch, then rubbed his head against her hand asking for pets.
“What a sweet kitty,” Julie remarked, which was enough to send him skittering away just as quickly as he’d come. Nobody called him kitty and got away with it. Our guest was just lucky he wasn’t in a swiping mood.
We both watched Octo-Cat settle himself in the window seat and scowl at us from across the room.
“So, you need us to find out who’s taking the mail and damaging the mailboxes so that you won’t keep getting blamed for it,” I summarized.
Julie nodded vigorously, then frowned. “Yes, that would be fantastic. But if you don’t want to help me, I’ll understand.”
“Why wouldn’t we want to help?” My breathing hitched as I waited for her response. The case seemed pretty open and shut, so what could be the problem?
Julie hung her head and let a lone tear fall to her lap. “I can’t pay anything for your help. Ever since the kiddos started college, I’ve had to live paycheck to paycheck, and I’m still drowning in debt. I can’t afford to lose this job, but I also can’t afford to pay you to help me keep it.”
“She expects us to work for free?” Octo-Cat hissed in agitation. “Thank you, next! Move along, sis.”
I glared at him before turning back to Julie with a grin. “We’d be happy to help. No payment required.”
Julie raised her eyes to meet mine, the hint of a smile playing at the edges of her lips. “A
re you sure? I know it’s asking a lot. I wouldn’t have even thought to ask, but Dorothy insisted and—”
I raised my hand to cut her off. “Totally sure.”
“No, no, no,” Octo-Cat pouted. “What kind of hobbyist works for free? I thought we were running a legitimate operation here?”
I shook my head. Sometimes it was so hard not to talk back to him in the presence of those who didn’t know about our secret connection.
“Totally sure,” I said again, keeping my eyes glued to the irate tabby the whole time.
And now less than fifteen minutes after it started, my meeting with Julie came to an end. “I have to go,” she said, rising to her feet and offering me her hand to shake. “Thank you so much for agreeing to help. I promise I’ll find a way to repay you someday soon.”
“You better!” Octo-Cat spat.
“It’s no problem,” I said with a smile to balance out his obvious agitation. “Our P.I. practice is just that, a practice. We’re happy for the opportunity to keep our skills top-notch.”
Julie sighed wistfully. “It’s really sweet, you and Dorothy doing this together. I hope one day when my girls are a little further away from their teen phase, they’ll want to hang out with me even half as much as you do with your nan.”
I laughed. “Nan’s not really a part of the firm, but we do love spending time together. I’m sure your daughters will come around soon enough.”
“She’s not? Then what’s with all the we and us talk?”
“Oh, um, it’s more like the royal we. I’m the sleuth, but I do bring in outside experts as needed.” I hoped she didn’t notice the way I stumbled over my words and practically tripped coming down the stairs from the shock of my mishap.
I really needed to stop including Octo-Cat when speaking with others. Even the casual we could eventually expose my secret. And as someone who uncovered secrets for a living—you know, theoretically—you’d think I’d be better at hiding them.
